My neighborhood is in one of the safer parts of Oakland ,
and walking around tonight feels like it usually does, though with some noticeable differences. There is a police car making a looping patrol of the main
storefront area, presumably trying to justify his presence here rather than in
the hectic areas downtown. That's unusual. Overhead, the sound of helicopters
is present, which is also unusual.
There are people strolling around,
and quite a few of them look cheerful. There are still plenty of restaurants
and coffee shops open, here, doing decent after-work business. I do see
one guy, wearing faded pink pants and a light blue top, walking down the street
with both hands up in "Don't shoot!" style. At one point he lowers
one hand to pull out a smartphone and mess with it a bit. Then he tucks it
away and puts his hand back up again, still wandering down the street. He goes
past an elderly couple, who notice him and don't seem to mind.
I walk past the area with the restaurants, and go down by the shops, which are pretty much all closed. Big lovely windows are
untouched here, and I'm glad. There is a shop that opened not long ago
because of a successful kickstarter, that just sells unusual sizes of bra. All
closed, all safe. There aren't a lot of people here, just a few who are going
in and out of a bar on the other side of the street.
Except this one lady over on my side of the road, who has
just started to get out of her car. I make eye contact, which is a habit of
mine for better or for worse. She is reasonably well attired, and black, and
looks anxious. I do not blame her. She stares back at me with what seems to be distress,
and she does not blink. I have written about my friendly facial hair and hat
before, but tonight my ensemble is not remotely inviting because I am not in
the mood. I look away and just walk on.
I cannot see any helicopters from this part of the street,
but I can tell they are up there. I can hear at least two, maybe three. They
sound like distant and very large lawn mowers, which they are after a fashion.
There are the dark corners and alleys where one generally
does not go or look too closely. This is my neighborhood, though, and so I do, quietly
and respectfully. The two people I see there do not notice me. The one in the
dark corner behind the barrier at the closed bagel shop is covered in a large
ratty blanket. The other, huddled in the stoop by the dark part of the church yard, is facing away from me. It occurs to me that in a world without beds,
let alone television or internet, "Michael Brown" is probably just
another name.
Coming back around by the coffee shop, I notice that the
newspaper vending machine has had one of its doors torn off, and been emptied.
The little door is still sitting next to some of the outdoor tables, which are
themselves unoccupied. I have
not seen that cop car for a while now, and wonder if he got called to somewhere
else.
I keep going, past the froyo place, the Chinese
restaurant, and the bubble tea shop. I go all the way up to where the street dead
ends into the cemetery, gates closed. Here, a woman is sitting
in a parked Honda Civic, one arm extended out the open window and holding a
cigarette. The arm does not move. She is black, but does not seem to be
anxious or moving at all. She does not look up as I approach and I wonder if she is asleep. Walking by, I glance in and see that in her other hand
she is holding a smartphone, and is staring with great intensity at what
appears to be a game of scrabble.
On my way back down from the cemetery, I pass by a place
with a clear view of the southern sky. Off to the east, a cluster of stars is
clearly visible and makes the sign of Orion. In the west, a cluster of
helicopters is also clearly visible, and makes a very different kind of sign. There are at least four of them. One of the helicopters is closer than the others, lower, and it makes an audibly
different sound: higher pitch, louder, different engine. Something is
happening.
