What can be done about all these terrible things?
October 10, 2017
Well since we had already bought the automatic cat feeder for our eclipse trip the husband thought we should try it one more time while we traveled to Richmond, Virginia, to visit our younger son. Just got back after 10 days gone. The cat is fine.
Our son knowing his college stint was going to be a long one in Richmond decided to buy a house there instead of paying rent for eight years while he earned his medical degree. He had turned 21 that April, 2013 so he did not need our permission to buy the house he wanted. However the realtor showing him the house insisted he call us, his parents.
On the phone I heard the realtor in the background ask our son, "Have you told your parents about this house?"
"Yes," I heard him say.
"May I please speak with them?" She asks.
He must have handed his cell phone to her because she says to me after she introduces herself and inquires about my health. "Are you aware the house your son wants to buy is in a very colorful neighborhood?"
Recommended Stories For You
Colorful neighborhood? Was that the euphemism used in the real estate world in Virginia. "Yes." I responded, "We trust our son is making a good decision."
So last week I was on the front porch of my son's house thinking, having a cup of tea watching the neighborhood go by. The next-door neighbor woman also was on her front porch enjoying the morning sun. I step off the porch and slowly walk to the low fence separating the properties and comment out loud as a man bicycles pasts. "That is the tallest bike I have ever seen."
The woman leans out from her chair and says, "I was just thinking that myself!"
We laugh. She asks if I am visiting. We chat a bit about my son, her neighbor. I tell her I'm from Nevada and reeling from the news about Las Vegas, needed to be outside, needed some air.
She expresses her horror about the news too and explains she is a commercial bus driver just returned from Charlottesville where she said the terrible incident occurred where that young girl was killed. She had to park her commercial bus in the very alley and have her lunch. She took pictures of the wreaths and positive graffiti messages all along the alley's walls. She shares her phone pictures with me after she stepped off her porch and walked over to the fence separating us. Sad and terrible we both agree after looking at the pictures.
Then I ask, "What can be done? What can one do about all these terrible things? I want to do something. I feel so frustrated. I have to do something. But what, what can be done about all this, these terrible things."
The woman, about my age, with gray in her hair looks at me a moment with her head at a slight tilt, then extends her hand and says, "My name is Iris."
Simple enough I smile reaching for her hand and say, "Hi Iris, pleasure to meet you."