01/27/2009: "Vandals!"

Hi All,

I live in a nice area in southern Calgary. It's the same area I lived when we lived here before, as a family, when I was going to elementary and junior high. It's not super-affluent and I live in one of the less affluent stretch of blocks---semi-detatched homes, condos, that sort of thing---but still, overall, it's a nice, safe area. In the main. I've lived in some less savory neighborhoods and have experienced the negative blowback of that choice. In Frederiction, I lived on 'the other side of the river,' the north side, also known as 'Hammertown,' a nickname culled from the vicious murder of a taxicab driver, I think it was, by some hammer-wielding assailants. There I had my stereo stolen out of my car. Also all the spare change I'd accrued. It was a sloppy job. Whoever it was kicked the window in and tore the stereo out of the dashboard with a screwdriver, I'd guess. Looked like a rabid badger had torn through the car. I remember the thief stole a dime that had been stuck to the bottom of my change tray with a glaze of old soda. I don't know how long he must've sat there picking at it to get it loose, but overall it was a really desperate job by a really desperate dude.

Anyway. My point is, I lived it a disreputable neighborhood so it wasn't totally surprising to have it happen. But where I'm living now is ... well, neighborhoods change. But still, this is a nice area. Family-centric. But we've been plagued by a pack of vandals---and now thieves---for the past year or so.

My first instance dealing with them, or dealing with their vandalism as I've never met them, clearly, was when I had to find a nearby parking spot for my bus. I'm what's called a 'park out'---simply put, I'd have to drive way up north to a central bus yard every day to get the bus, drive my route, then bring it back. Wasn't happening. So, if you can find a spot to park near your house, the company lets you keep it there. You get a gas card. You're a little bus satellite cut off from the mother ship. Which is how I likes it!

Anyway, I ended up parking, initially, in an alleyway near my house. Behind another house that was, for all intents, abandoned. Here I am telling you I live in a nice neighborhood when it's got an abandoned house in it! Really, it is an eyesore. I later discovered the old owner fled to Germany to avoid creditors and just left the house. I didn't realize at first, as I wasn't really looking, but the house was in bad state. Busted windows. Dopey graffiti on the garage door: 4-20 and drawings of elephant-sized genitalia. The fence had been halfway burnt.

So one morning I go out to start the bus and see most the the sideview and rearview mirrors have been busted. The taillights, too. The emergency door hanging wide open. Holy shit! Who the hell is so awful as to vandalize a special needs bus! Well, somebody.

I went to the shop and got it fixed. Stewed. Wondered what the hell I could do about it. Nothing, I decided. I found a new place to park. At a school parking lot nearby. Then I get a call from the vice principal one night saying I'd better come take a look at my bus. Vandalized again! You little TURDS!

WELL! What the heck was one to do? Lament all humanity, obviously, which I did. And I did enact some more severe measures, which I won't go into here but believe me you will read about them one fine day! The worst thing about vandalism is it temporarily sours your worldview. Since you don't know who did it, everyone is a suspect. You're looking at every kid: Is it you? Are you one of those filthy vandals? Old women: oh, you think that oxygen cannister fools me? You're probably a vandal! I bet you could move when you have to!

And it's happening all over the neighborhood. Things getting busted. It's all pretty penny-ante, but it pisses me off. You've got this roaming pack of kids, or maybe only a few, out at all hours just running about busting up stuff. And more and more brazen. In fact, just last week, I mistakenly left my car unlocked and somebody---the same kids, I'm guessing---got into it and stole my backpack full of my reeking gym clothes and ancient, sweat-infused sneakers. Why? For heaven's sake, what value other than to me? But it's just to steal something, I guess. To invade space. They popped the glovebox open and scattered all my deeply-important documents about, too. It's a violation---a violation, I tell you!

And I'm worried that, if I ever do run across these little bastards, I'm going to lose it completely. Impulse control is not something I can claim to have in abundance. I guess it would depend how they react. How many of them there are. And other factors. But likely I'll never catch them. Unless I set up some elaborate, Rube-Goldberg-esque mousetrap invention to ensnare them. And I just might.

Very best, Craig.