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Cops, helicopters, and a neighborhood in transition

July 12, 2013

Last night, just after taking the dogs out one final time and setting the alarm, a helicopter arrived over out house. We got into bed. The helicopter hovered. It circled so low the whole house shook. Then we heard the occasional blee-oop of a half siren.

Without opening my eyes I said, “You’re dying to go peep out the window, aren’t you?” He was out of bed before I finished speaking. FYI: I married mrs. Kravitz from Bewitched.

He called for me to come see. My eyes were closed and I was being lulled to sleep by all the noise. It hurt to get up, but I did anyway.

There was a perimeter set up with around 20 police cars, lights flashing. Uniformed men huddled around a map laid out on one of the trunks. Like in The Fugitive.

I told Cyrus to call and see what was going on.


Just like The Fugitive!

Because this is 2013 we got additional information from twitter: there’d been a burglary. A gun and a gang were involved.

We brought the dogs in to sleep with us in case the commotion stressed them out, but honestly I don’t think they could have cared less.

I fell asleep right away and when I woke up a few hours later it was quiet.

I wanted to tweet about it. Facebook the excitement, (especially since all I post about lately is insomnia) but I hesitated to pick up my phone.

When we bought our house some family members were … concerned. Our neighborhood is what real estate agents call “in transition”. To concerned parents this translates to “hide your kids, hide your wives!” What it really means is that hipsters are moving in, but the carniceria on the corner has yet to be replaced by Intelligentsia. (Thank god.)

I like it here. We live next to 6 of the greatest kids. The checkers at the market make real conversation. People on my block walk as much as they drive. Even to the laundromat!

What happened last night could have happened anywhere. This is Los Angeles. I once read somewhere that you are never more than 2 square miles from gang territory. In fact, our little circle of town has less crime than a few “nicer” neighborhoods. I could cite statistics all day but it only takes one incident to cause amnesia, furrowed brows, and voices dripping with pity. Out of concern or not, it bothers me.

I want to be able to share the excitement and annoyance of last night without scaring anyone. We weren’t in danger of anything more than lost sleep, but from the outside that’s hard to see I guess.

I’d like to slap the guy that did it. Although, home prices continue to sky rocket, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should thank him instead. Maybe incidences like this one will slow the “transition” and allow us to enjoy our little pocket just a little while longer.

Oh, and they caught the guy.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Smile, it's Friday permalink
    July 12, 2013 12:09 pm

    Agreed, happens everywhere. Even in OC. In reality, it’s not what people perceive it to be no thanks to Bravo.

  2. July 13, 2013 5:57 pm

    I grew up in western Kentucky where we had a sheriff’s department with a staff of ten officers and low crime rate. I remember moving to my first apartment in Massachusetts and within the first month I was woken up at 2 a.m. by two dozen cop cars closing off the roads and busting into the house across the street in a major drug bust. My parents freaked out and begged me to move back to the safety of our hometown. The second apartment I moved to was supposed to be in a safer neighborhood and I woke up to the cops knocking on my door to ask questions about my neighbors and the woman who had died across the hall.

    Ten years later, my father still struggles with me living so far away from home. He is retired law enforcement and military so he lives every day with the memories of the worst he has witnessed in this world. Safety is definitely not assured by the neighborhood you work, live, or play.

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