There is a really rough housing project that I deliver to frequently. I am probably crazy to go there and I have been told I am crazy to go there. But, for some reason, it doesn’t worry me. Admittedly, the first couple of times were rocky. I carried my dingleberry hot bag though the courtyards, seeking an apartment number that had of course, been removed... I was told twice as I wandered in a panic that the hot bag was going to get me robbed. The recipient found me (finally!!!) and I high tailed it out of there. The mix of people is unique. I have seen every race one can imagine, many nationalities, too. The doors to each building have call buttons for the particular apartments. That is, if the panel is there. One of my first times there, I was delivering to a lady named Jenn. She was on the second floor. She sent me a text telling me the buzzer system was busted, the doors were unlocked and she would meet me at the door to the building. I met her and she was very sweet and shy and kind. She apologized profusely for her living “there.” She said she despised it. I asked her if she had plans to move in the future. She was in school and planned to leave once finished with her education. She also told me that none of the buzzer systems to the buildings worked. So much crime happens, that the police and fire departments could not access the building in a timely way. They had to bust in the doors. The repairs were so costly that they disabled the systems for access. I told her it looked more like a Louisville Slugger dismantled it and she laughed. Since that day, I have had some strange and unique and even fun experiences here. I always dance with the kids. They are always somewhere outside and blasting music. I have never had a problem with crime there, but once I had several guys follow me. I abruptly turned on them and said a few ummm...unholy words and they backed off. I have been told by several men at different visits that I should just carry the food or delivery and no hot bag or delivery bag. That was duly noted and quickly. Almost every person who has offered to help me find something or someone or offered help in any way has almost always been black. And the population is more white and hispanic, seemingly.
Now, I never pass judgement on anyone. I treat the people in the project the same way I treat the people who live in million dollar houses, even when they get pissy and want their happy meals by the poolhouses. But something special happens in this housing project. Behind the stairwells, there are food and necessity pantries by the residents. You can find elbow mac, spaghetti sauce and loaves of bread. Dollar Tree items. School supplies. Each building and floor has a random selection of things. When I first noticed it, I was approached by a resident who asked me if I needed anything. I replied to her that I noticed the things and asked her if they were for anyone. She smiled and told me the items were for anyone in need, with the pay it forward when you can mentality. I now drop off a can or two through the week. It is such a beautiful idea. Everyone helps...no one knows where the goodness goes, it doesn’t matter, either, as long as people are cared for. Yeah, I know, most of these people have government benefits. I do not. I work my rear off. But, I like the simplicity of helping this way. Even if a parent is not such a decent, moral person, perhaps their children can eat this way. When I visit upper class neighborhoods, daily, people typically do not want contact with me, unless they feel like something is wrong. I can’t tell you how many times I have been yelled at - Where is the ketchup! Where is the napkin?! - in upperclass neighborhoods. In the projects. You get a “hey girl, what’s up?” And I have been really surprised to see that most of the time it is mothers using child support to get their kids a treat. Maybe the money could be better spent, but I do think it gives the kids a boost. They can feel like the other kids in school or where ever because they tried to new drink from Taco Bell, too.
Racism is everywhere. But, it is not always the places you think. I have experienced such a little amount of it is the inner cities that I expected. I am snow white and my southern accent makes me stand out bigtime. I have been told on numerous occasions to leave an area for my safety. One day the lady working at KFC, a beautiful African woman with colorful ethnic clothing and a smile as wide as the universe, told me “Honey, you are so beautiful. You have flowers in your hair and radiate happiness. But nobody gives sh!t around here. It’ll get you killed. I love you, God loves you, but get the hell out of here for all our sakes.” Yikes, I thought. She put her arm around me as she said this, then walked back to the register. Another time, I delivered food from Applebee's to a house in an upperclass neighborhood. Million dollar houses. Some had little houses for the hired help. A black man came to the door, laughing and carrying on something awful. He said, “Look here, mama (to his wife) we got a honkey bringing us the food!” She apologized for his behavior. He laughed and slapped his thigh yelling ‘honkey’ until I had handed her all of the bags and she closed the door. I handled it by smiling and telling them to enjoy their blessings.
There is a lot of bad in the world. Bad people, bad politicians, bad lettuce. People that can’t count change. People that like their eggs sunny side up and have to check to see if the yolk ran or busted while you wait patiently at their door. They ask if you were not paying attention to traffic...and tell you it ruined their eggs. I laugh and tell them it all comes out the same way. Scrambled egg people don’t seem to care. :P . Go out into the world and be one of the good ones. Every single thing you do and say effects every single person you come into contact with. And that has a ripple effect to the ways they behave and the ways it affects us all. Sometimes, some folks are a bad ripple in the waters. Some of us are cycle breakers for positivity. Don’t let anyone drown if you can help it. Have a blessed Sunday. It is a good life.