Sunnyside

July 21, 2019

I’ve seen her sitting alone on our lawn down by the swimming hole twice now. Whenever I’m home and see cars parked alongside the road, I walk down to introduce myself and size up what’s going on. Owning the access to what has for generations been considered the community swimming hole has its unique set of challenges. Most of the time it’s pretty innocuous, but we’ve had people spaced out on drugs, some who when told it’s private property act amazed and border on belligerence, and I’ve cleaned up everything from beer bottles to dirty diapers and weird votive candles and cultic paraphernalia. We’ve had cops visit us, spent time with EMT folks; let me tell you—owning swimming hole access is an education!

But there she was again this evening, sitting quietly, watching her two grandsons as they swam and played in the water. She doesn’t look old enough to be a grandmother, but she is. Her daughter, the boys’ mother, died last year from a congenital heart condition, and she’s doing her best to raise them right. I know her parents, but hadn’t met her until a few days ago when I wandered down to check things out. She’s a talker, so when I saw who it was, I knew I’d be down there for awhile.

She lives in Jamestown, works part time buying and delivering groceries for shut-ins, trying to make ends meet while raising her grandsons. There’s not a lot to go around, but she’s used to it; her grandparents are poor, too. But there was no complaining. She just wants her grandsons to grow up safely. In the past year, there have been three drug raids in nearby houses by fully-armed SWAT teams. After trying to explain things to her grandsons, she decided to move, but when she told me where, I know her new neighborhood isn’t much better. 

It’s a dilemma that poor people know all too well. Drugs and its accompanying crime riddle their neighborhoods, and law enforcement can only do so much. They don’t like it, want to end it out or get out of it, but end up living like prisoners in their own homes.

I wish I knew the solution to such problems. Widespread revival has in the past made sweeping changes in communities, but I’m not seeing signs of that happening today. There is something I can do, however; I can keep the grass mowed, keep policing the banks of the swimming hole, and keep encouraging people like this young grandmother so she can bring her grandsons down for a bit of fun and relaxation before they have to go back into their neighborhood once more. Maybe it will give her just enough breathing space to gather up her energy for another day raising these boys.