I live in a suburban community adjacent to one of the nation's largest western cities.I live in a suburban community adjacent to one of the nation's largest western cities. It's a compromise: I'd live farther out but then I'd have to leave *really* early in the morning to get to work downtown. Even so, I might consider getting farther away from the urban sprawl, but I'm divorced and I got the house; my ex moved back east and took the savings account. So I stay. More specifically, I live between two cops and across the street from another, a fact which does *not* make me feel particularly secure. On one side is a retired suburban cop. He has serious problems with both his back and his drinking and he doesn't get out much, though his rather dumpy wife is out there fiddling with the soaker hoses in good weather. Across the street is a retired German cop from Chicago who moved here to be near his kids. His house and yard are organized and tidy to the point of cliche and he has a cyclone fence around his front yard as well as the back. He also keeps an eye on everyone on the block, as if hoping to spot some activity he can report to the Gestapo. On the other side of my house, the kitchen side, is where the only working cop around here lives -- or used to. He's about my age, mid-30s, and a SWAT-team member. When my cat wandered into his open garage a couple years ago, SWAT (which is what I called him behind his back) caught the beast in a burlap sack, hung the sack on my door-knocker, and attached a note to the effect that he'd shoot the damn cat the next time he saw it. No, people like this do not increase my sense of safety and well-being. SWAT has (or had) a very attractive wife, though -- a tall, slender, leggy blonde named Carol, with a twangy voice and come-along eyes. |