I just hung up from an ominous and
very scary phone call. As a result I am setting aside the post I just finished
writing and starting anew.
The whole thing puts me in mind of a
story from my past. When I was thirteen and fourteen back in New Jersey I had a
cute little girlfriend named Linda. I was aware that she had a former boyfriend
from a nearby town known to be the home of tough guys, but I didn’t worry about
that. Well, maybe I worried a little bit.
One day two guys from that town
somehow accompanied Linda and me into my very home. My parents were not home. Stupidly
unafraid, I probably invited them in. One of the guys went off to talk to
Linda, and the other, bigger and older than I, sidled me off to our living
room.
“Stay away from Linda,” he warned. “If
you see Linda any more I am going to knock all your teeth down your throat.”
Those who know me know that I remember the words of others quite well, and
these were words to remember.
I am not a fighter. I am easy meat
for anybody that wants to beat me up. So what did I do? I kept seeing Linda. I
did break up with her a couple of years later, but for reasons that had nothing
to do with those tough guys, whom I never saw again.
Now I find myself really afraid of
some really tough guys. That phone call was scary.
But I think I’ll keep seeing Linda.
I realize that Michael D.
Antonovich can pull some really mean dirty tricks on me if he chooses to. Well,
hell, cutting us off from our homes was a pretty dirty trick, wasn’t it? I can’t
say Michael Antonovich was directly involved in that, but I definitely believe
that his influence has been far more negative than positive, as far as my
family’s and neighbors’ quality of life is concerned. I have been told by many
people that he is very likely behind much of the loss of our access. That phone
call this morning put fear in me, but it also convinced me again that powerful,
self-interested officials of Los Angeles County and the State of California are
well-equipped to strip us of everything.
So why am I back? Because I know
the difference between right and wrong, and I know that if I stop seeing Linda
just because a hoodlum from the next town told me so, I will still lose
everything, plus my self-respect. I was minding my business, teaching
mathematics to the youngsters of our county, when all of this started in 2004.
I did absolutely nothing to bring this on myself, and nor did any of my
neighbors. So, despite your phone call, and you know who you are, I intend to
continue seeking wide-spread public support for our cause, because that is our
only salvation.
But no, of course I will not
divulge the name of the caller. I’m not stupid.
I’m just an old guy who can’t
fight, and surely those who did our neighborhood wrong are fully aware of how
powerless we are. Our only hope is that someone who can fight, someone who is
tougher and meaner than Michael D. Antonovich and certain officials of the
State of California—or at least can’t be destroyed by them—will step forward
and open up our access to our homes.
Our hero doesn’t have to be meaner,
although the people trying to ruin our real estate values may think she or he
is, for taking away their spoils. But I would prefer to be championed by
someone nicer.
I am put in mind of my father, who
never took my side against bullies. He believed that though I was younger and
smaller and outnumbered, I should go back to that playground and get my
basketball back. Okay, we are not looking for that kind of father. We are
looking for someone who gets it, and
who sees the need to assist innocent, unassuming folk such as me, my family,
and my community.
Mighty Mouse, where are you?
