A New House
9/13/2020 Target Writing Time: 30 minutes. 7:00 am – 7:30 am
Back in high school or junior high school, I lived on Encanto Blvd. The neighborhood was new and John F. Long houses were being built for low to middle income families to own their first home. There were homes that were already lived in, homes that were being built, and empty lots of dirt where homes will eventually house families.
With enough money saved from hard work by my mom, and I think my eldest sister, Joanne, we went from apartment living to our first home. My mom’s first home. I was in 7th grade when we moved there. I was about 53 when my mom FINALLY sold that home and moved into independent living apartments.
That Night
The night in question about me running from a cop was indeed frightening. I was with school friends Susan, Joey, and I think Frank. We thought it would be cool and fun to sneak into one of the nearly completed but empty houses on the block. It was the dark of night and electricity was not yet set up. So the house was also dark as we played hide and seek inside. We didn’t have flashlights, but someone outside did. I was hiding in a closet when a flash of light shone in through a front window and freaked the heck out of me. My first thought was “oh, no, were busted!”
I heard the gasps and quick movements from the others as they sprinted out from where they were hiding or seeking within the house, and then, I, too, jumped into action. Out of the closet and out of the house through the back window, landing on the dirt of the un-landscaped ground. I began speeding through the dirt and made my way to the sidewalk towards my home about 8 or 9 houses down the same street, Encanto Blvd. I ran as fast as I could even though my feet were sporting “chancla’s.” What you might call flip flops or slippers, I grew up calling them chancla’s.
As I was running, in the dark, I recall an image as I turned back to look at who was chasing me. It was a very tall man in a police uniform running not 5-6 steps behind me. I can even remember the sounds of whatever items were clinging to his uniform. The dancing of keys, the pounding of his shoes, the breathing from his effort to catch me. I picked up the pace and kept running.
Busted
After crossing 67th Avenue, and a few more houses down, I didn’t hear anything or anyone anymore. He either gave up the chase or I left him in the dust. I like to think it was both. Safely at home I made my way to the kitchen and began washing dishes. This was unusual behavior for me (washing dishes). I found myself on the phone with my friend, Susan, talking about what happened, and what was happening at her house. She had been caught by a police officer and taken home to her mom. Thank goodness, she received only a warning about trespassing on property and potential damages. For this, she was grateful, but her mom was not as happy about the situation.
Think About It
We did not “think” about the trespassing aspect of our fun game of hide and seek, and damaging the property was NOT on our radar. Although, accidents do happen but that was not our intent. We were not destructive youth, perhaps we were only bored and looking for something to do in the evening. There were no cars, no evening programs, no nearby places to hang out.
I have since had a few encounters with law enforcement. Some good, some terrible.
The actions of that evening were made by a teen-minded person whose thought process was not running with a wide life-lens. Now, when I see an officer these days, whether up close or in passing, I can’t help – at times – thinking back to the time I outran a cop. This is a one-time memory I do not want to repeat. Although, as I said in my video prior to running a sprint (50M or 100M), I may use the “running from a cop” theory to help me “book it!” If I feel like giving up, I can’t, I gotta out run that cop.
Take Good Care.