February 18 and 19, 2019: Day 145 and 144: Monday! Then Tuesday!

The forecast is telling us that winter is in evidence for two more days, so, I am writing away the last of the winter season by this blog post. By this time, it is winter FU; we are all done with it.

Monday is a national holiday of which there at least a couple Mondays a year the idea being it is Family day. This is a very good day for people with families to just get out and do something that every age can relate to. The breadwinners are thankful for a long weekend. The gardeners in our zone might have used the final days of snow that’s now disappearing fast to clear up the last of the trash, to clear space around the now well sprouted snowdrops, violet carpets of crocus in profusion, the pointy daffodils not yellow yet and the nudging tulips just poking up from the ground at least a month away from revealing their colors. At good deal of commerce was closed down and so there was a focus on people not stuff. Restaurants often open these kinds of days to attract the grateful mums and the brood to have a special meal served up without the sink full of dishes at the end.

I’m home again which is really quite all right as I am catching up on my homework. My personal health has been an issue since mid November and so there has been a lot of stumbling around the Raven while I am relating solo to getting well. And now I have downloaded the instructions to setting up Mail Chimp to send notifications. Dear readers, thank you for your patience. The work is coming along, and we should look more like a well oiled machine soon. That is the goal.

And so now it’s onward: this evening to a noisy rash of police and ambulance sirens that followed after an afternoon attendance on a dying young man lying on the sidewalk at Main Street across the street from Carnegie. There are ladies I know who sell cigarettes on the street there: we hold hands and simply look deeply into each other with prayers in our hearts. Later when I was rolling very carefully home on a flat tire, I encountered an older nun: I stopped her, told her of our younger brother and we held hands to offer a prayer: in Jesus name. No matter what kind of belief we hold, the children need our prayers as so do we.

Of course, that was not the end of it. With so many here homeless and a certain number of down and out addicted people who are actively using heavy drugs openly, it can be safely said I live in a particularly vulnerable neighborhood. Along with that mix, there are approximately 20,000 people everyday commuting from other neighborhoods to work here. There is some quite well contained tension on the streets.

A knot of people standing around on a major corner, a couple of police cars with their red lights flashing, non-stop traffic on its way through the major corridor and a young man in a coma on the sidewalk surrounded by police and ambulance people doing their level best to bring this young person back to his world here: it is noticeable. Our whole neighborhood notices. The word travels and in an hour most of the people within about a three block radius know what was going on.

I don’t have any official information but from my Grandmother’s eye, he had left his body; those of us right there knew without being told. It wasn’t the first time. I am not a habitué of the streets: I am a resident and I have a place to live; but our people know each other by sight, and I am even more noticeable being the old lady trolling in a wheel chair talking and joking with everyone. There is a circle of compassion because we all know what it takes to hang in the ‘hood!

The cops know what it’s about: those three men working on the body (all of them my children’s age) would book off shift and go home to their families, spouses and children. This is a very big burden to carry around: they carry a huge burden, folks. I experienced not just the happening itself but also what that happening was causing in the minds of those who were simple onlookers. All of us there had already formed a circle of our own feeling for what was happening to all of us.

This is our town; this is our neighborhood. Should it be permitted in any respect (not just in law) that there be others who profit from these events, these killings? Any comment after this must consider the many witnesses to this most violent atrocity not just to our unfortunate younger brother but to ourselves. Blessed Be.

What will it take? Not every question has an answer.

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