Bad Neighborhood

How much do you tell your kids?

I've always wanted them to feel safe here in my neighborhood, when they visit me, but the truth is that this is not a safe neighborhood. Some of the things they like here -- including visiting the corner store -- are problematic.

It turns out that the nice family running that store was busted last year for passing off counterfeit $50 bills as change.

Across the street, the Chinese family that runs a never-ending garage sale, has some sort of scam going on that the police are aware of. When neighbors complain, they slash their tires.

Two blocks away, yesterday in mid afternoon, a man shot another man over some sort of dispute. The proprietor says it was a case of outsiders encountering each other in our neighborhood.

Muggings, shootings, break-ins, burglaries of cars, stolen cars, gun violence -- all of these are common crimes here now.

As our society devolves into a Third World nation of haves and have-nots, my children are among those caught in-between. We are neither rich nor poor.

It is scary here.

I am no longer at all happy in this place, living alone, trying to help my kids stay safe. This is a very lonely place to be. I do not like the America I see emerging as I approach my final years. I do not like this place at all. I do not like being all alone, with no partner to talk to or hold. I never expected my old age to be so lonely. Now that two of the friends I would have talked this through with are gone, I feel even more alone. No Raul. No Michael. No one to answer my phone calls. No one at all.

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