Elena 
Living in the inner city is certainly a much different experience than the one I grew up with. Our original plan was to live here a few years and then sell the house at a profit. We never ever intended to raise a family here!! But then Mr. Pete decided to start his own business. He thought we would need to be here a few more years. A few has turned into about 20 and we are definitely a fixture in the neighborhood.
We are actually one of three Caucasian families on the street, but my kids are very well liked and get along well with the other kids. The lack of grass in my backhard and part of my front is witness to how popular we have become over the years. But I am raising children, not a great lawn, obviously.
Two funny things happend that I want to share on the blog.
Preston, an 8th grade friend of Sam’s, had to move to another part of the city where his mom bought a house. Ironically, now he is the only black kid in his white neighborhood and he has had troublg getting along with his new neighbors. He frequently takes the city bus across town to come over here and visit. Late in the spring he took the bus to come over to see Sam. He was sad in his new school and didn’t like his new neighbor kids.
Preston talking to Sam: “Man I just can’t get along over there. Everybody’s white.”
Sam with a quirky smile back to Preston: “I’m white.”
Preston to Sam: “Sam, you aren’t really white. You know what I mean.”
Yes Preston, he knew what you meant.
I thought actually that was quite a profound conversation. To Preston, Sam is just his friend. He knows Sam loves him as a friend, will stick up for him, and will listen to him. So between the two of them, there is no race difference. Preston just wanted to talk to his friend. I think now that actually my kids are just the kids who live here. All the neighors just accept that. It’s never a problem unless someone new comes to visit the street. Every time one of my kids has been ripped off or beaten up, it has been by someone who does not live in our “hood” but was just visiting or passing by.
This past winter, the man across the street died. He was only 64. He called me Mrs. Pete. He called all my sons “Little Pete,” even 6’2″ Calvin. He called Izzy, “Missy Pete.” It worked for him. We knew who he meant and he didn’t have to remember our names.
His son just got out of jail and moved into that house with his baby mama and their two daughters Chartiana 6 and Chardonay 3. The son seems nice enough. He says good morning. I have never seen the mom because she is working all of the time. According to grandma who comes over all of the time to clean up, they are not married. I have been making friends with the little girls.
This week, I had my girls playing inthe little swimming pool and they came over. Sure enough after a few minutes they were all splasingin the pool until the little one had to go potty. Now, I am willing to sacrifice my grass in the spirit of friendship and community, but I have thus far been successful in getting all of the neighbor kids to use their own bathrooms! I told Chardonay and Chartiana to go home and use their own bathroom and come back. That’s when I discovered they were locked out of their house and their father had left. On further questioning I discovered that he told them to come over because he had somewhere else to be.
He didn’t ask me. He didn’t leave me with a phone number. I did not have the mother’s name or work number. I was stuck with two extra kids for four hours.
It’s funny how things work here. We give each other the benefit of a doubt. We stick up for each other. But screw up too many times and we can be hard core.
When I fianlly saw the dad walking back into his house (a friend dropped him off) I took the girls over. He didn’t come down to thank me, or even to see if the girls were okay. He knew they were. I knew he was either drunk or high. I told the girls that if they were ever scared about anything, they should come back over to my house. Mr. Pete went over there when he got home to make sure every one was alright. He also let it be known that the next time those girls are abandoned we would call the authorities.
Probably the rest of my summer will be spent making sure that if they come over to play, that there is someone at their house too, just in case.
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