Juelez was born on Halloween. I remember his birth day because his parent lived a few doors down from us. On Halloween night my siblings and I walked over to their house to "trick or treat" and discovered the front door open. No one was home and the lights were out; it was an unusual situation, to say the least. Unfazed, we locked the front door, closed it behind us and continued our hunt for sweet treats. The next day we learned Juelez had been born. His excited, extremely nervous father had left the front door open when he rushed Juelez's mother to the hospital. Juelez was their first child and the newest baby in the neighborhood; everyone loved him.
I babysat Juelez on a regular basis. He was such an adorable, easy baby to watch, it really didn't seem like work to me. I used to pinch his chubby, cheeks and carry him on my hip to the park at the end of our street. When he was old enough, he'd walk down to my house and ask my Mom, "can Lola come out to play?". I always made time for him because we were buddies. Over the years the precocious, little boy grew into a smart, easy-going young man with big dreams. Juelez had so much promise, everyone had high hopes for him.
Then life happened. Instead of soaring Juelez floundered. It seemed as though no matter what career path he started down, it turned into a dead-end. He was a classic "boomerang kid". He moved out of his parents house on numerous occasions but he always returned, until finally, it became clear he didn't have anywhere else to go. Everyone could see that Juelez was drifting through life without a map, compass or rudder.
When I returned from Ethiopia, my mother suggested I move into our old family home because it was sitting vacant and would be a better a fit for me than my condominium. I agreed and started making plans to move my things out of storage. It was my Mother who recommended Juelez for the job.
"He's worked as a mover before. He's a hard worker and he'll give you a fair price, " she said before adding, "besides he needs the money."
That last bit made ask, "What do you mean he needs the money?" "
"Well, he's developed a bad drug habit. Juelez is always looking for ways to make money." she explained.
I reminded my Mother I needed a reliable mover and I was concerned Juelez's drug problem made him a poor choice.
She smiled and said, "He's got problems but he's still the same Juelez."
I decided to give him a call. Juelez welcomed me back home. We spent a few minutes talking about our families, catching up with the happenings in our lives (the edited version) then I asked him if he'd help me move into the old family house. He seemed eager to help and negotiated a fair price for his services. Unfortunately, he reneged on the deal before the job was completed leaving me in a financial jam. I was furious and cut-off all contact with him.
Whenever I saw Juelez around the neighborhood, I made it a point to ignore him. He wasn't the kind-hearted kid I used to take to the park or the fun-loving young man I traded jokes with, my play buddy, my pal--he was a stranger masquerading as my friend. I didn't realize how much this rift bothered him until a few evenings ago. Someone rang my doorbell but wouldn't identify himself. I looked out the window and observed Juelez walking away from the house. I cracked open the door and demanded to know why he was in my yard. He claimed he'd found one of my dogs at the park and brought her home. I stared at Juelez hard, not really believing him then said, "How did they get out? I just let them out a few minutes ago. Somebody must have left the gate open."
"No they didn't get out of the gate. Someone knocked your fence down," he responded.
"What! What! Someone knocked my fence down!" I yelled.
I didn't wait to hear what he said next (if he said anything at all), I slammed the door and walked through the house to the back. Sacha was standing at the back door waiting. I let her in then walked to the side fence. Juelez was correct. Someone had kicked part of the chain-link fence down. Since the side gate was unlocked, I couldn't understand why it had been necessary to kick the fence down. I didn't have time to dwell on this point because my male dog, Xavier, was missing. Fortunately, after several anxious moments, I found him wandering around the front yard. I secured both my dogs in the house then decided to file a vandalism report with the police. When the police officer arrived (3 hours later), I told him I thought "the whole kicking down the fence incident" seemed personal because the side gate was unlocked. He agreed with me.
The fence has now been reinforced and repaired but the personal nature of the attack continues to bother me. I find myself thinking about Juelez a lot because he's the one person I know who harbors enough deep resentment toward me to lash out. The alternative might be worse, if it wasn't him, I'd have to face the fact one of my other neighbors harbors ill will toward me. I was upset but I was determined not to be a powerless victim. I wanted to push back against the violent, raging spirit that sought to hurt me by destroying my property.
I found an inspired solution in a book I'm reading called, "If You Sit Very Still", (Vala Publishing, 2012). It tells the moving story of one woman's battle to salvage the sacred by reclaiming the dignity of her murdered sister's life through restorative justice. At one point the author, Marian Partington, rails against the ugliness unleashed into the world by news agencies broadcasting the profane, grisly details of her sister's murder. She considers but doesn't act on a desire to hang poems from the branches of trees to counter the barrage of negative, destructive words and images carried over the airwaves. The author later implements the idea using the healing powers of colorful Buddhist prayer flags as part of a restorative justice project..
I responded to the violence directed at me by choosing to hang words of healing on the same property damaged in the attack. I borrowed the "prayer flag" concept from the Buddhist traditions and combined it with the idea of hanging poetic words from tree branches. I used rectangular-shaped, color construction paper as my "prayer flags". The poetic words I wrote on the back of each flag came from a Quaker peace testimony quoted in the book (a Quaker peace testimony is a statement of committed act(s) to promote peace and resist violence) which states:
All the darkness in the world can't put out the light of a single candle.
This is the message I hung from the chain links of my gate as an affirmation of my commitment to peace. It's a public declaration that I won't be intimidated by the threatening actions of a neighbor living in darkness.