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May 6, 2004 When I lived in Japan, a friend of mine gave me two tiny ceramic figures, both of which were to be kept in my change purse; one was a turtle so that I would always have money in my purse, the other was a frog so that I would always journey safely. These delicate creatures are a measure of our health on this planet. A frog, if mutated, indicates that the balance of nature has been disturbed and our own lives are in danger. I lost my turtle somewhere in my travels and have often not had money in my purse. I also lost the frog, and my life has been endangered on more than one occasion. I don’t know if there is a connection or if it is just the workings of Karma. I have recently been supporting my artistic pursuits by working as a security officer. In the community where I work, there are a lot of bodies of water and a lot of frogs. Recently on one of my rounds, I came across a frog in the road. It still seemed to be alive, but it was definitely injured. I had no knife with me to put it out of its misery and I didn’t want to run it over with my patrol vehicle. The only thing I could think to do was to pray over it and wish its life force to a better place. There is a request by the residents that if a dead animal is found, we should remove it; and if a wounded animal is found, we should set up an orange cone and call animal control. While praying over this frog, I was also wondering if it was considered important enough to put up a cone, but then again, I doubted it. Some residents have seen possums and raccoons and asked if I would shoot them. I am certain that a frog would not meet the requirements of this request. Let me describe this community, which I will refer to as the Encampment. As far as available housing, this Encampment is not typical. The average home is worth $200,00. It is not the usual cookie cutter development. There are town homes, duplexes, and freestanding non-attached houses. Although some designs repeat themselves, on the whole, there is a lot of variety in the appearance of the buildings. There is also quite a mix of populations: Bangladeshis, American Blacks, Jamaicans, Whites, and South Americans. The only thing besides a substantial income that the people of this development seem to have in common is a love of security. Or, should I say, a serious attachment to fear. I know we are involved in military operations around the world and 9/11 was the first time since Pearl Harbor that we have been attacked on our own soil. Even though our daily lives are still peaceful, we have recognized the need for heightened security. I have, however, never seen a place more protected than this one. There is a force of security officers, police officers and sophisticated surveillance equipment. Our officers operate the gatehouse, which resembles a military checkpoint. Residents have a clicker, which they can use in the fast lane to enter the complex. Residents who do not have this clicker and guests must pass through the checkpoint by presenting some form of photo ID. There are cameras at the gate to record the vehicles. There are cameras to photograph the occupants of the vehicles, which connect directly to the resident’s homes for their screening. There is a computer system to log in all who pass through the gate. There are video cameras throughout the Encampment: at the clubhouses and probably elsewhere. There is a deggy system, or a computer system, to track the movements of the night patrol. Computer chips are set up throughout the neighborhoods and must be activated routinely by a wand as patrol makes its rounds. In addition, quite a number of homes have installed private security alarm systems. The only thing missing is video cameras in the clubhouse bathrooms, and armed security officers. A security officer also attends private parties. In addition to standing guard over these parties, the officer and resident must do a pre and post inspection of the clubhouse to insure that everything is in order. By contrast, I live in a low density, mobile home park for seniors. We call it mobile homes, rather than trailers because of the stigma attached to trailer parks. I prefer referring to my unit as a modular home or a prefab. Whatever it is called, it is quite a bit less expensive and a lot less “classy” than the Encampment. We have an official Citizen’s Patrol vehicle. Our manager makes daily rounds of the property. And of course, the local police are always just a phone call away. We have no surveillance equipment, no gates, no security guards, no guard dogs, and no checkpoints. In fact, I can come and go as I please. And my visitors can stop by anytime they wish, and do; even leaving me things in my Florida room when I am not home. I have rigged my front door with a bungee cord so my cat can get in and out to the Florida room at night, as he desires. When I lay my head down to sleep, I close my eyes without a care. I purchased my two-bedroom modular for $1,500 and pay less than $500 a month for the land rental, my utilities and services. I have a beautiful garden and am at peace with my neighbors. Wind chimes lull me to sleep. Chirping birds wake me in the morning. What more could a person want? ------------ Email Risa: risa008@yahoo.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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