Last night I attended my first Block Watch meeting…it was actually the first meeting for many people in the neighborhood. It was confirmed that our neighborhood association has been defunct for a while–things went as far as LOSING our community center to the VFW two years ago. Part of this is that our hood has been fairly quiet in the past five years and the need for ‘community’ was minimal. With recent multiple break-ins and a sudden rash of ugly graffiti there are growing signs of some ugly business. The Gang Patrol is being revived (having actually retired this particular sector of law enforcement due to lack of gang activity in Seattle!) We learn that the graffiti we’re seeing is from a Latino gang and that they’re targeting the south side (specifically Beacon Hill, which is good for us but bad for them).

A couple of spunky ladies put fliers in all of our mailboxes saying “It’s time to unite! It’s time for a block watch! It’s time we make sure our neighborhood doesn’t spiral out of control!” We show up to a local church basement, sign in, and are immediately introduced to the officer in charge of our precinct. He warns us that most break-ins are during the day, so for God’s sake answer your door! Criminals will knock on your door to see if you’re home and then proceed to break in through the back when they don’t get a response. (I never answer my door, I guess that will change.) Answering your door is different then opening the door, you shouldn’t open the door to strangers. The police officer also confirms that majority of our local crime is done by youths–considering we’re right down the street from a high school. We also learn that the south side is grossly understaffed (but isn’t that the case? Aren’t we always short of police officers?)

Looking around the room, it is a pleasant mix of people. By a show of hands we learn that majority of those present have lived in their homes for over five years (putting Josh and I as some of the newest members of the hood). A spunky little old lady in the front row informs the officer of a dumpster sitting in front of an abandon house. “It needs to GO,” she says firmly. She also denounces the gang graffiti and says, “If their parents won’t discipline these youngsters then they’ll have to answer to ME.” She also shares, “When I moved here in 1972 we were looked at as out of place, because my son and I were black and this was a white neighborhood. Shortly after that I watched low income housing take over the neighborhood and rentals replace owners.”

Another lady is really MAD and uses the opportunity to talk to a real live police officer by wasting a ton of time giving him a piece of her mind. “There are inappropriate block parties in front of my house all summer long with people playing craps, drinking 40’s, and speeding down the street! I call EVERY day and no one takes me seriously!” I am actually reminded of her block, a certain block we ventured down last summer and vowed to never walk down again. Too many stares, awkward encounters with people who seem hostile and unfriendly. However, the police officer has a point: Unless someone is being physically hurt or a break-in is IN PROGRESS, a police officer is going to put your noise complaint at the bottom of the list. He also reminds us that there are neighborhoods far worse then ours (Capitol Hill and Belltown) and demand far more attention.

Which brings us to our guest speaker, some local activist from some sort of South Side Group For Peace or something like that. This woman was all about getting us riled up, “I wanna get you MAD!” she claimed. “50% of all people who live in the south side are living here with housing vouchers! No one takes us seriously down here! We’re discriminated against! All the low income housing is in the south which is driving our schools and neighborhoods into utter decay.” This woman whipped everyone up in the room into such a tense frenzy that one woman finally interrupted her with, “The problems with the day laborer center downtown is not because of the day laborers. You’re making it sound like it’s US against THEM, and that’s not how I feel, you don’t live in this neighborhood and you’re making me want to leave.” She was making me want to leave too, with all her doom and gloom and mean statistics about violent crime.

However, in the midst of her trash talking she had a few valid points: Many people are afraid of calling 911 in our neighborhood. Maybe they can’t speak English, or are here undocumented and don’t want to put themselves at risk. Maybe they’re from a country where law enforcement is so oppressive that they wouldn’t dream of calling a police officer to their home. We have to call 911 in greater numbers because of those who can’t or won’t. The more 911 calls we make, the more reporting of suspicious activity we make, the greater the chance our problems will be noticed (sad but true). She also brought to attention many wonderful local programs that focus on getting kids out of gangs, targeting crime prevention, and cleaning up graffitti.

Once The Windbag was done (and let me tell you, the silence in the room after she asked if there were any questions indicated that we were all too happy to see her finish), one of the women who called the meeting said, “Well, I’ve been here 22 years and I don’t want to leave, I LOVE it here. It’s the best kept secret in Seattle. We can run our neighborhood with respect and community. Say ‘hello’ to your neighbors, pick up the trash on the ground, let your presence be known.” We nominated block captains, discussed concerns, hopes for the future and agreed to meet in one month. When the meeting adjourned we all pounced on each other, eager to get to know the people in our neighborhood. What fun! What a wonderful feeling! To know that there are people nearby who are kind and caring is immeasurable. This song from Sesame Street pretty much sums it up: