Wednesday, May 24, 2023


Yesterday morning my caregiver came back from my van; she had intended to run an errand for me. Did you know your window was broken, she asked? We went out to look: one of the side windows had been smashed. A giant hourglass shape was missing from the center, and when the door was opened the rest tumbled into the car and onto the ground as tiny glass cubes. Nothing was taken. There being no coarse gravel or high-speed travel (barring an improbable thriller-movie event) in that spot, it seems most likely that somebody hit the window as hard as they could with something solid. It's a crazy feeling, knowing that someone did that, might have done that again last night, or might do it at any time. And why? There was some vandalism right before we moved in. We assumed that was because the former owners had stiffed some contractors. We've had no trouble since, and it's been well over a year. We'd settled into a peaceful groove. So if there is no reason, what? The comforting thought that it might have been random violence isn't all that comforting, is it? This thought is more disturbing than the time and trouble of getting all of the glass up from the sliding door's track, from the carpet, from the grass, and from under the van, plus the cost of replacing the window, not to mention that I have errands today across town. What is our neighborhood really like? Well, there seem to be crazy folks anywhere these days. The fabric of society is stressed, and the future isn't looking any better than today.So I went out to enjoy the flowers and admire the vegetables. That helped.

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