Friday, April 2, 2010

AVERAGE HAS ITS PERILS TOO



I like to think that I am a fairly average person living in a fairly average place and living a fairly average life. But after a major gunbattle erupted earlier this week less than a half-mile from where we live, I'm beginning to think that maybe I'm not!

The apartment complex where we live is in a somewhat rural area. Along the west side of the complex, fairly close to our particular building, is a flood control channel rimmed by a chain-link fence, and on the other side of the channel is a very large industrial complex comprised mainly of big warehouses that serve as distribution points for various businesses. We are less than 1/2 mile as the crow flies from that particular development.

About 11 pm on Monday night I was awakened by gunfire that sounded as if a string of firecrackers had been set off. But there was no mistaking it for what it was -- it was a shootout of major proportions. It wasn't close enough for me to worry about, but I certainly figured I would hear about it on the news the next morning.

None of the Los Angeles TV stations had it on their news in the morning, and of course it was really too soon to expect the local newspapers to have anything in print. But Jerry did finally get a call from one of his buddies explaining that the shootout was from a drug deal gone bad over on one of the streets in the industrial development. One young man was killed, two were seriously injured and found at a nearby fast food restaurant. As far as we have heard, there were no arrests made.

I suspect that in the scheme of things, this event just wasn't all that important to report on, or else it was considered of not much consequence. Drug deals gone bad and consequent shootings apparently have become commonplace.

There was a time, back in 1993 when we had just returned from Istanbul and had rented a house in Santa Ana -- a lovely old house in the older part of town which was moving from benign neglect to new gentrification -- that we experienced some shootings that were a whole lot closer than half a mile. It was summer time. We had all our windows open and were in the den watching TV. Suddenly from out front in the street an exchange of gunshots rang out, close enough that Jer and I both threw ourselves flat out on the floor. We crawled back into the kitchen where we would have a little more protection from stray gunfire - and heard a knock on the back door. Our young neighbor announced herself and asked to come in. She was very young, with a husband off serving in the Navy and she was scared spitless. We let her in and we all remained on the floor until we heard sirens.

A few days later a neighborhood acquaintance who had lived there for years advised us that in light of the recent gunshooting incident, the police were going to focus on getting the drug dealers out of this neighborhood. They did.

I just wonder how many of my friends have had such experiences. None have ever mentioned to me of being close to a gunfight. But of course living where these things happen is nothing to brag about, either, so maybe people just keep their mouths closed. Regardless, it is a little scary! I wonder if I really am just average?

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