My occasional dispatches from Peace House Community come from a place of hope and positivity. I write of poignant moments and decent impulses, since there is already enough pain and darkness to go around.
But this picture is incomplete. A tough neighborhood surrounds us, overseen by imperfect, fragmented systems and buttressed by a safety net made of shoestrings.
Yesterday, we learned about the death of a longtime community member, Peter, who had earlier in the week fixed our dishwasher. Street word, though immediate, can be inaccurate, and several theories floated. What's undeniable is that he has struggled with addiction and was found dead in his vehicle, which he used generously to transport people.
I got my first view of the new fence surrounding the back of Peace House and our parking lot. Since the police shut down nighttime stays in a nearby park, our back porch has increasingly become an overnight shelter for drug activity unwelcome on the block. Our lockbox for the key has been pried off the wall. Some mornings, the pavement is filthy with urine, vomit, needles and trash.
Last week, disgruntled men who had been banned for violence cut two tires of a volunteer. The fenceposts were in place, but the fencing itself came too late.
Also yesterday, police converged down the alley to arrest drug dealers believed responsible for recent overdose deaths in a nearby apartment building. The street drugs have become cheaper, more plentiful, unpredictable and lethal. Their marketing is inescapable if your background and addiction have consigned you to this poor neighborhood.
In our meditation yesterday, a recovering heroin addict told how dealers offered her free samples on the street and, after she refused, they followed her and threw in baggies of the drug when she opened her apartment door.
We want to be a good neighbor, and we certainly don't want to be blamed for bad actors who use our building to shield themselves from the street or congregate on the vacant lot across the alley. So we repair vandalism, install security cameras, erect fences and contribute to the cost of night patrols, spending money from a spartan budget that could better be used to benefit people.
Or could it?
An oasis can only exist in the desert. Peace in a war zone is most precious. Our candles have no effect in well-lighted places. So we head for the danger and, almost miraculously, it disappears for awhile.
