Tonight I brace myself for yet another unmitigated evening of gunpowder and drunken brawls to erupt on my St Louis South city street. The artillery has been unloaded and tested over the past few days so I’m already in the chokehold of neurosis. And in this state I can barely pace the length of my tiny living room without being startled into outer space. Thankfully, my close neighbor has been to visit and she’s set up the stereo to blast eighties hits nonstop for the next couple of hours. Her choice and I’m glad for it. So for now it’s helping to drown out the sound of firepower. But I can’t keep this up all night long.
ANd as I sit and stew about it, I seriously wonder has anyone among these Independence Day patriots ever stopped to consider the neighbors with PTSD, many of them war vets, whose startle reflexes already in overdrive mode are having to hunch under the kitchen table with a blanket and a handful of xanax? Jose, can you see? I mean, can you?