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Friday, July 1, 2005
Myrtles and Classified Photos
Walking Porque today I very nearly sneezed my nose off. The crepe myrtles are just barely underway and every street is lined with them...what I formerly called "pink trees". Pollen!!!
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This A.M. I had to down tools to rush to a little violin recital featuring Benny. Leaving the house, I saw between me and the street, right beside my myrtle tree, a guy standing doing nothing. I said, in my nosy way, "What's up?"
He squirmed and looked embarrassed and said, "Hi."
Now suspicious, I asked, "No, not 'HI', what's up? What are you doing? You're too old to just be standing on the street curb on a work day; plus you don't live here, plus it's not a bus stop."
He said, "Working for the city."
I riposted, "Now the city pays guys to stand around making no sense and doing nothing?"
He wriggled and looked at his shoes, "Just doing it for the city of Norfolk."
"Right. My point. DOING WHAT?"
"Uh, working for the city."
"Norfolk now pays people to behave inexplicably and to make a mystery about their category of employment?"
"It's classified," he yielded.
"HA!!!" I squawked. "That's rich. Nothing whatsoever done in the name of the city of Norfolk is classified by any government agency with authority to withold info from the public. No, Bubba. You ain't the CIA. Nor the NSA. Nor the FBI. Nor anything sensible and I want to know what's up." I was getting loud.
At that point a woman approached from a position out in the street from which she'd been taking pictures of the yellow building. She was well dressed and held a camera. "Hi," she greeted in a calming the masses manner.
"No, we've had HI," I answered. "What are you people doing? If this guy hadn't engendered suspicion by failing to give me a sensible answer to that question in the first place, I wouldn't still be asking."
"Working for the public safety," she replied.
"Taking pictures to protect me? I don't think so. I don't feel one bit safer knowing that you took pictures. Now, if you brought a bull dozer and began to knock down the yellow apartments, I might perk up, but take a picture? Naaaw. I'm not going in my house and calling up my family and yelling, ' Oh, thank God!!! Some lady took a picture out front of my house. Now I'm safe!!!' "
She pulled out a pen. "If you have a bit of paper, I'll write down my name and number and you can call me later. I don't feel free to discuss what I'm doing while out here in the street, but call me and I'll tell you what's up." I gave her a grocery store receipt and she wrote and I went to Benny's recital.
Just now, home from recital and numerous errands, I called the number. There was no answer but a machine which said, "Hi. This is Linda Bryant, Assistant Commonwealth Attorney, violent crimes unit. Leave a message."
Taking 'classified pictures' for the city of Norfolk. My word, what a lame thing to say. There the woman stood looking at the best witness she could ever want for anything having to do with the yellow buildings and she fed me a line of baby talk. In her place, I'd have been pumping the citizen for information after the first sentence, not standing there making up a silly drama. No wonder prosecuters don't get more convictions. Lord, have mercy. Well, you get what you pay for. Those people don't get much of a salary. In her shoes, though, I'd want to win just because I'd want to win. I'd look at someone like me and say to myself, "Self, this nosy little old lady is in the right place. She's the kind that gets herself into whatever is going on. She must have seen what happens across the street. I must ask her to tell me everything she knows." Instead, "We're taking classified pictures." Oy, vey.
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