C'mon Son!

I was in the middle of watching Law and Order Friday night when the picture went out.

Since I have Dish satellite for cable this isn't an uncommon occurrence.

If the wind blows too hard or the weather suddenly changes the dish won't pick up the signal.

Usually you give it a few minutes and the picture comes right back in.

Except on Friday.

I waited and waited and my picture never came back.

The weather seemed clear and I performed the diagnostics but no dice.

Since I had plans, I decided to pursue remedies when I returned later that evening.

When I did get on the phone with the Dish customer service representative we ran through a few more diagnostic tests with the same results.

So a service call was scheduled for Saturday.

When Luis the service technician came out he climbed up to the roof he quickly and efficiently diagnosed the problem.

My satellite dish was gone.

Some trifflin' ass motherfucker climbed on my roof---directly over my head my I add----on a dark, cold windy Chicago night and STOLE my satellite dish in the middle of Law and Order.

Ain't that a bitch?

I was completely undone. It took a day for me to calm down.

Who climbs up on your roof at night to take a flipping dish?

It turns out that despite a majority of the dish being plastic, there are some metal components that can be worth up to $15.00 on the street.

So does that mean that the thief goes around collecting dishes until he (or she) has enough scrap metal to make decent money?

Clearly we're not out of this recession if people are roof surfing for cable satellite dishes for scrap metal.

It's like I had my own personal "C'mon Son" moment.

Your ass is such a bootleg, ghetto ass criminal that you have to risk life and limb to grab dishes off peoples roofs.

Damn, player.

Normally during this time of year it's the beginning of the "jacking season."

The jacking season usually lasts from the holidays until after the tax refund anticipation loans stop.

They'll jack you for your Christmas gifts. Your purse will get cut while you're in a large crowd.

If you're foolish enough to get your taxes prepared at a Currency Exchange don't be surprised when someone sticks a gun in your face as soon as you exit.

People usually become extra cautious and take care to not draw attention to themselves.

Most people exercise using common sense and street smarts.

And until yesterday I thought I was one of those people.

Little did I know that jacking had gone three stories up.

Restless

It seems that my fellow Woodlandites are none too happy with the shenanigans and foolishness going on around 61st Street/South Campus area.

If you didn’t know, South Campus is the new name for that part of Woodlawn just south of the Midway (60th Street). Commonly recognized as the dividing line between University of Chicago and Woodlawn.

In the past the University of Chicago specifically told their students and faculty not to go south of the Midway. While that stance has been eradicated, the perception persists that once you cross that boundary, your physical being and immortal soul are in peril.

Nonetheless, those brave souls who have done just that and decided to make their homes in Woodlawn are pissed.

Potholes and gunfire just don’t seem to be their cup of tea.

As a matter of fact, one new blogger is simply furious at The Woodlawn Organization.

So much so that his whole blog is dedicated to shine a light on what he perceives as mismanagement of the subsidized housing managed by the organization.

Oooh Whee…

South side stand up.

Eye In The Sky

I noticed a new addition to the 63rd Street Metra commuting experience this morning: The platform is now equipped with security cameras.

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

As usual, I was running for the train when I saw a metal pipe-like structure attached to one of the wooden lamp posts. Imagine my surprise when at the end of the pipe I spied the unblinking eye of a camera.



Though I haven’t walked the platform to confirm it, there are probably cameras in plain sight of all four entrances to the station.

That suspicion was nearly confirmed as I looked across the way on the south bound platform and saw another camera pointing at its south entrance.

The scuttlebutt is that Metra in conjunction with Apostolic Church, had the cameras installed.

After all, the rapist still hasn’t been caught and the platform, stairwells and viaduct are extremely dark and isolated during the daytime much less at night.

While I welcome the cameras, I wonder if they’re monitored---If so, by whom? Dose this mean that they’re may be an emergency call box somewhere in our future?

If the scuttlebutt is true, it’s nice to see public and private entities working together to achieve a common goal.

Now I have to be careful if I have a “wardrobe malfunction” and go to correct the problem.

Unlike this crazy YouTube generation, there are just some things that just don’t need to be caught on camera

Shooting? What Shooting?

This foolishness has now crossed over into just plain stupidity.

At least the police were able to apprehend the suspects (finally).

I wonder if they happened to be in the right place at the right time and were able to give chase or if someone from the neighborhood gave a piece of vital information?

...And it ain't even warm yet.

Flying Under The Radar

Clearly I have not been paying attention to the goings on in the neighborhood.

It might have been because I was (am?) putting my life back together after 11 months of unemployment (Note: Not as easy as one would think).

Or it might have been the brutality of this slow moving winter and my knee injury.

Or it might have been because my head may have been firmly ensconced up my ass.

Either way, I had no clue that there was (is) a gang turf war in our little patch of heaven.

At least I didn’t know until it erupted on Monday night resulting in the shooting death of a 15 year old.

While the violence was a shock, I was fully prepared for the negative comments that usually accompany the subsequent Tribune and Sun-Times stories about the incident.

Luckily, the Tribune disabled the comments section by the time I had read the article.

Perhaps they already knew the caliber of commenter and simply disabled the ability to comment from the beginning.

No matter how you feel, someone’s child is dead.

While the consequences that led up to that fact are important, at the very least you should err on the side of respect.

Yes, I understand that some people cause their own problems.

But a majority of comments on articles about urban crime are mean and tip toe right up the line of being racist.

So it was with this in mind that I steeled myself after reading the Tribune’s article.

But it was all for naught.

I will say this to you who feel that “some people,” specifically black people, don’t care about the communities where they reside.

Let me preface my statements by affirming that while I may speak for myself, I also happen to know a huge swath of other black folks who feel as I do.

Yes, we care about where we live even though some may not think so.

Yes, we call the police.

In my experience the places that are usually the worst on the block are owned by either people who live in the suburbs or well meaning social service agencies.

Ironic, huh?

So the suburban neighbor that you so enthusiastically great each day may be the single largest contributing cause to crime in any given neighborhood.

Go cluck your tongue and pass your judgments on them.

Because lax tenant screening + credit requirements + non-resident management = a recipe for disaster.

But what do they care?

They keep on getting money that supports their comfortable lifestyles in their practically crime free neighborhoods.

And these well meaning social service agencies are no better.

I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth so I very much understand people needing help.

So I know that a lack of financial resources does make you or your family bad people.

Yet because of the fact you or your family may not have the time or the resources to mount a time consuming, draining protest about issues in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you don’t care.

In fact, that’s what I think some dubious people look for.

They look for the people who are the hardest pressed and will squawk the least.

‘Cause it’s a hell of a thing holding down multiple jobs and/or raising children and/or staying on the straight and narrow AND trying to get people to do right by your neighborhood.

Trying to get long time institutions to respect where you live.

Trying to get landlords to treat your neighborhood with the same consideration that they treat their neighborhoods.

Trying to uncover the maze of LLC’s who illegally convert rentals to condos and leave them when they run out of money.

Trying to get the police to pay real attention to those no good thugs on the corner.

It’s exhausting.

If you let it, it can drain your essence.

Trying to fix something that has been broken for a long time takes patience and resourcefulness.

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

That’s a pretty tall bill for working class people who may not be well versed in how the city that works really works.

For those of you who can’t see beyond race, look up how UIC got built and get back to me.

So when I see these cowards hide behind a comment section and spout off about “why those people in that neighborhood don’t do anything” I know they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Because I know that I care about where I live---my neighbors do too.

Some things just fly under the radar.

Number 29

Jesus.

And So It Begins

I was greeted by the sight of police tape as I was taking out the trash this evening.

This was not gonna be good.

Apparently the beefin' between young men who live south of us and the young men who stand on the corner of my street and Stony Island reached a violent conclusion a little after 4:00 PM today.

A young man was shot twice in the field behind my home.

I don't know the status of his condition. I can only hope that he survives.

A few neighbors said that he was a part of the Stony clique that hangs out down the street.

They also said that he was 15.

So the young men to the south of us are armed and I'll bet you that the young men from down the street are probably arming themselves now.

The end result is that all of the rest of us will be caught in the middle of a pitched battle.

One with no winners.

God, it's gonna be a long fucking summer.

My New Favorite Person, Part I

My fellow Metra riders and I have been on edge since the attacks on women started near our train stop.

A few weeks ago I saw Metra security making the rounds of the parking lots and slowly cruising under the viaducts where the stairs lead to the platforms.

Then of course that was during the day.

But for those of us who ride the 5:43 from downtown and arrive at our destination in the dark, the Mt. Carmel security guard is a welcome sight.

Apparently the lads at Mt. Carmel have had intermittent trouble in transit to or on the train platform. The school thought it was a good idea to hire a security guard to make sure the boys have safe passage.

While I don't know for sure, it's probably a safe bet that he gives the school parking lot the once over as a part of his duties. It makes sense, right?

But I when I exit the train I usually see him either on the platform or on the steps leading to the viaduct/64th street level.

While he dosen't have to stick around to make sure that the local commuters get down from the platform, I think it's awful stand up of him to take a few extra minutes to keep an eye out for us.

I may not know his name but he's my new favorite person.

King Charles and the Concealed Carry

Pride is a dangerous thing.

In a way, pride is just the ultimate setup for disappointment.

That’s the way it goes in life and that’s the way it’s going in the ‘hood.

Why? You ask?

Walking from the bus stop on Sunday night, I saw two things---one a more common place occurrence and the other is something I’ve never seen in Woodlawn: A young white woman walking a Cavalier King Charles.

That's a breed of dog you don't see too much around these parts.

As more people discover our gem in the rough known as Woodlawn, white neighbors are not that rare of an occurrence anymore.

A Cavalier King Charles on the other hand, is a reason to celebrate.

You see my friends, when you live in an emerging neighborhood; it’s the little things that make a difference.

I hate to say it, but image is everything.

Whether its shoes on a wire, the Jenkins Boys on the corner, trash on the parkway or a woman (regardless of race) walking her Cavalier King Charles.

In the dead of night, might I add.

These are the non-verbal clues that help people shape their perceptions of your neighborhood.

And for some people, perception is reality.

So there I was feeling the upward trajectory of the ‘hood when I got a text Monday night.

“I just heard about the muggings at your Metra Station on WGN. Please be careful.”

Apparently King Charles Cavilers don’t mean shit to a knife wielding lunatic.

Naturally, this was the talk of the train stop on Tuesday morning.

All of the ladies were putting together the bits and pieces of what we heard vs. fact vs. what was on the news.

More importantly, we all talked about how to stay safe.

I recounted the story of my aunt who lived in (and still lives in ) Gary, Indiana in the 1970’s.

As a nurse, she would have a rotating shift that sometimes put her waiting on public transportation after dark.

She had already anticipated that some jagoff was going to screw with her so she took my grandfather’s .38 along as a traveling companion.

Imagine that the nurse who’s caring for you during your convalesce is packing heat in her locker at the hospital.

Hot.

One night while waiting for her bus, someone tried to mug her.

She shot him---lit him up like a Christmas tree.

Then on another night in a separate incident, another idiot tried to mug her.

She shot him too.

After that, she didn’t have any more problems.

To this day, we don’t just pop over to her house. We phone first. We always let her know that we’re coming.

Knocking on her door or entering her house unannounced is not a wise thing.

But this little story serves as a good lesson.

I have a saying, “The sharks go where the fish are.”

Apparently the fish have moved to Woodlawn.

That station is super creepy and is the perfect place to snatch up a sister if you have sinister intentions.

You see my friends; this dumbass just hasn’t met the right woman yet.

Trust me, I’m not her.

I’m not walking around with my chest poked out with an “S” on my sweater.

But you all must understand that sisters are doin’ it for themselves.

You can’t wait on the police to come and rescue you; especially when some bumblefuck decides that because he’s a little short on cash that any random woman walking down the street is going to be his personal ATM.

Because when he runs into the woman who doesn’t give a fig about the illegality of handguns in the City of Chicago and he makes his play, let’s suffice it to say that he’ll see the lightning flashing.

And I, for one, will cheer.

Yes We Can

I have yet to have children.

I do not know how it feels to give birth to another human being and to experience that life long love---that maternal bond.

My friends with kids often remark they'd do anything to protect their children.

Playing devil's advocate, I jump on the bandwagon and ask them if they knew that their child (or children)commited a crime, would they ever turn them in to the police.

Every last one of them has said no.

They couldn't bring themselves to turn their children in---no matter how horrific the act.

I counter with the statement, "So why do you bother teaching them right from wrong and taking them to church?

That one is usually met with icy silence.

I guess it's difficult to turn over one's offspring to the authorities.

That's why this woman not only gets my praise but my prayers and respect as well.

Instead of turning a blind eye, she made a huge personal sacrifice.

She knows that all of the best examples begin at home.

I Spoke Too Soon

Just when I thought the 'hood was taking on an air of respectability, the restless youth have slowly but surely returned to the corner.

Great.

Not only have a hand full of the original horde started hanging out on the northwest corner, but when people cast lingering glances their way they go across Stony Island and hang out in the bus shelter.

I noticed yesterday the bus shelter got tagged with graffiti.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I wonder if the owners of the building on the corner will enforce the no loitering order or if it will take another shooting (and a fatality) before people get it?

At least it was nice quiet month. I was just hoping it would last.

(Sigh)

On a different note I found out that I'm a finalist in the Mayor Daley's Landscape Awards Contest.

While I'm excited, I figured that when you enter gardening contests and don't hear back from anyone in a reasonable amount of time that some Versailles inspired garden has kicked your garden's ass.

So imagine my surprise when I got a phone call last week stating that I was a finalist and that someone needed to swing by the flat to take a look at the flowers.

Who knew?

I'll keep you posted on both fronts.

Epilogue

It’s been a little over a month since the last shots were fired at the end of the block.

And believe it or not I haven’t seen any of the restless youth that normally hang on the corner.

Now what happened, I’m not sure.

But I do know that this new addition has been made to the building:


‘Cause without the restless youth hanging out the likely hood of shots being tossed decreases dramatically.

Via records from the Cook County Assessors and Treasurer, I discovered that the owners of the building are WECAN (Woodlawn East Community and Neighbors). And while I had my doubts about their tenant screening process, my faith has been renewed.

Once again, I have no clue what’s going on down there.

I don’t know if the adults have reclaimed their households or if WECAN had a come to Jesus meeting with some (or all) of their tenants.

Somebody laid down the law.

All I know is that the bullets have stopped whizzing.

So Much For The Peace and Quiet

These motherfuckers have lost their everlovin' minds.

The question in my mind is if you know that your presence on the corner might draw gunfire, why do you stand there?

When I went out to purchase detergent from the corner store (Dan Allan in the WGN piece is the owner) on Monday night, I reminded myself to get there before 8:50 as the store closes at 9:00.

Why?

'Cause I didn't want to be there during the last ten minutes of the business day---that's when stick up guys tend to rob places.

Of course I also passed the horde of teenagers and young people that congregate on and near the corner where the shooting occured.

I will start putting in calls during my lunch hour today to find out who's who and what's what.

If we don't get a handle on all of this violence, the only thing Chicago's gonna get is kicked in our overfed Midwestern asses, not the Olympics.

Motherfuckers.

The Corner

The sound of gunfire is unmistakable.

So I knew what I was hearing at 6:30 tonight.

I just didn’t know what direction the gunfire was coming from. If memory serves me correctly, about six shots rang out.

Believe it or not, I completely dismissed the whole incident. I figured if it was really gunfire I’d soon hear the wail of police sirens.

I kept on about my business---surfing the internet, watering the flowers and taking out the trash. Not really paying attention to what was going on outside.

It was when I was coming back up stairs from the alley that my next door neighbor (yes, the one who put out the fire) asked me if I heard the shots.

Great. Just fucking great.

I knew there had been two shootings or attempted shootings in the past month.

All shootings jumped off not even a block from my little floral paradise at the corner of 65th and Stony Island.

That’s where a group of aimless youth---some of whom I believe live in the building on the northwest corner of the intersection---tend to gather.

Now that’s definitely fodder for another post but let me go on record by saying that I don’t like any group of teenagers “hanging out.”

You know what I like even less?

Groups of young men “hanging out”---especially during a warm and violent summer that we’ve had on the south side.

It's been crack-a-lacking over in South Shore this summer. There's a reason why they call it Terror Town. Frankly I was hoping, if you’ll excuse the pun, that we had dodged a bullet.

Apparently that ain't the case.

Well that’s the assumption I made since I can stand on my front balcony and look at the pretty flashing blue lights on top of the police cars that are lining Stony from 64th to 65th.

Allegedly today’s shooting may have also involved an innocent bystander on the street, the passengers and driver of the north bound 6 Stony Island bus.

Let’s say it all together----Delightful.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You’ll have to excuse the language---I swear up a blue streak when I get agitated. Hell, I don’t think I said anything fit for family consumption for a month after September 11th.

But I’m sure you can understand.

Now I don’t know if the aimless youths are beefin with another group of aimless youths. I don’t know why after two years of their shiftless presence in our happy little hood is the shit is hitting the fan, but I can tell you this:

Those young men and women, their friends, whomever they live with and their landlord is now officially on my radar.

I make 40 in 13 days, I’ll be damned if I get shot over some stupid gangbanger shit that I don’t have jack shit to do with.

Motherfuckers.

It's Not Just Me

A few weeks ago one of my neighbors texted me near the end of my waitressing shift.

Since it was late, I was rather taken aback that I received a message that didn’t involve a dire emergency.

I pulled up the message, it read:
“Carlton was on Ch 7 hiding face coming out of court! Funny!”

I peed on myself a little ‘cause I got excited.

Hiding? Coming out of court? WTF is going on?

Despite my aching feet and crabby disposition, I rushed home in enough time to catch the rebroadcast of the Channel 7 news.

And just as I locked the door and turned on the TV what story should appear but the big splashy corruption investigation probe named Operation Crooked Code.

This time I about popped a boner.

As I watched the news report, a few of the indicted individuals were named but a complete list wasn’t made available.

That was a head scratcher.

I didn’t want to shout the joyous news from the rooftops until I saw my developer’s name in a federal indictment.

In short I needed to make sure that the T’s were crossed and the I’s were dotted.
The more I looked, I just couldn’t find any evidence that Carlton had been rounded up in the sting.

No peeing. No boner.

I’m glad I listened to my inner voice.

It turned out that the person who was covering his face coming out of the Dirksen Federal building was not Mr. Knight.

When I broke the news to my neighbor she was deeply disappointed.

And when I say deeply disappointed I mean buzz kill disappointed.

As much as I’ve chronicled Mr. Knight’s dealings with our association, I’m simply the smoke---the rest of my neighbors are the fire.

There's more than one owner who would like to see him get his comeuppance.

I’m just the one who happens to write about it.

While he wasn’t indicted, the city did file two new civil lawsuits against him. I also have to find out what’s going on with the Dixie Highway foolishness in Harvey.

Unfortunately my 12 part time jobs mean I don’t have the same amount of time to go sleuthing like I used to but I’ll eek out some time next week to go to the Clerk of the Circuit Court’s office.

Because as you should know by now, the saga is never ending.

Developing...

West Side Opinion

Aparently someone else in Woodlawn has an opinon about one of their institutional neighbors.

For all of the issues we've had with Mt. Carmel, at least their presence discourages violent activity.

That's a good thing.

Getting It Right

Since the new school year started last August and I've been unemployed, I've had the unique opportunity to pay even closer attention to my neighborhood.

But you eagle eyed readers already knew that.

One thing I noticed is that there were no disaffected, baggy pants wearing youths wandering the neighborhood looking for a place to fire up their shitty domestically grown pot.

Curious, no?

I come to find out that Hyde Park Career Academy has a new ass kicking principal who shut down the open lunches that allowed the disaffected youths to freely roam.

And no, not all of the Hyde Park students are monumental pains in the ass.

As usual it's the small percentage of dumb asses that ruin it for everybody.

Plus the super swanky new McDonald's has banned students during school hours.

Nonetheless, I must give a resounding well done to Hyde Park's new principal and the Chicago Police Department. The officers and police cars that line Stony Island after school cut down on the usual foolishness from ocurring.

And because the usual foolishness has lessened, my quality of life has shot up.

Granted I don't have any income coming in but at least I don't have to deal with disrepectful brats.

Now if the new principal could find a way to address the student's behavior on the bus, he might be able to bring peace to the Middle East.

Good luck kind sir, you'll need it.

The Jackers

A friend was shot at the corner of 67th and Stony Island.

From what I was told, a car with several men stopped near the bus shelter around 7:45PM last Thursday and asked my friend to come over to the car. When he refused and tried to get away, someone from the car pulled a gun out and shot him.

Luckily the bullet only hit his arm and went right through.

Now I'm not sure if this was reported to the police but common sense says that if he received medical care for a gunshot wound then the police were notified.

67th & Stony is only a mere three blocks away from my place.

I haven't heard a peep about this foolishness in any of the mainstream media outlets. I know shootings are pretty common place in Chicago but can a sister get a "heads up?"

Unlike my neighbors to the north in Hyde Park, I don't have a variety of transportation options. If the 6, 28 or 15 is running late I just can't hop on a shuttle.

Even though there are many nights I wish I could.

I look enviously at those warm frequent shuttles that roam throughout Hyde Park. I often wish there was some way I could hitch a ride but the shuttles aren't open to the public. Then of course the University foots the bill for the vehicles, drivers, upkeep and the gas so their students, faculty & staff can stay safe.

Of course since the shooting, you see more University police patroling a wider area.

Which kinda has me thinking.

If Hyde Park is locked down from the jackers and you can't sneeze without having four squad cars show up, who are the criminal types going to prey on?

I'll tell you who----the rest of us who don't have two police departments (regularly)patroling their neighborhood, that's who.

While some parts of Woodlawn get some overlap from the U of C police it seems more like the holding of the Maginot Line rather than effective policing.

I could be wrong.

Usually after the Christmas holidays the jackers take a break.

It's colder, less people are walking around laden down with packages and Christmas cash.

Plus those jacker knuckleheads are gearing up for Christmas number two or as the rest of the world likes to call it the tax refund season.

Watch your ass when you're at a Currency Exchange.

If you go to one of those places to file your return, I'd strongly suggest Turbo Taxing your return online or if you meet the income guidelines having your return done at the IRS downtown.

Whatever the case may be I have an uneasy feeling about this latest crime.

No matter where you live---city or suburbs---you live with the constant threat of violence.

Despite what some people may think no place is exempt. The instances may be few and far inbetween but no place is 100% safe.

I love going to visit friends on the 'burbs but I lock their doors with the same compulsion that I lock mine when I'm hear in Woodlawn.

But I can't be frightened to take the trash out, run errands or wait on public transportation.

Apparently keeping an eye out and being aware of your surroundings isn't enough anymore.

I guess security is a luxury for those who can afford to pay.