Straw That Broke the Camel’s Back

Reading the Fox website this morning I came across an AP story, “BATAVIA, Ohio — A man who neighbors say was devoted to his meticulously kept lawn was charged with murder in the shooting of a 15-year-old boy who apparently walked across his yard.”

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"Police, who released the call's contents, said Martin also told the dispatcher: "I've been harassed by him and his parents for five years. Today just blew it up."

I find this a tragedy in more than one way; the loss of a young person, only 15 years old who will never have a chance to live out his life is the first. The second tragedy, also a victim, is the 66 year old man who threw away a lifetime worth of being civil in a moment of frustration. Then there is the cumulative social loss of civility which has suffered yet another blow.

Playing the Devil’s Advocate for a moment, how many times was Martin supposed to quietly stand back and accept abuse from his next door neighbor? “Hey, kid, get off my lawn”, followed closely by some quick insult, “Up yours old man!”. I don’t claim that that is how it happened, just that I’ve bit my own tongue and was glad that I had sense enough not to kill of the little twerps on more than one occasion. My yard could use a bit of work, don’t think I’m up for “Yard of the Month” anytime soon; but that’s not the point.

I notice the little hostilities that push the envelope of civility all the time; I’m guilty of it myself here and there. Driving down the streets of our quiet neighborhood I see three or four young people walking and having a good time together as they take up the entire street. Instead of extending some common sense by moving off to one side of the road to let my vehicle pass safely, these young people act as if the street were one giant side walk and that I should have to inch along at the same rate as they are walking, often having to observe a one finger salute and some vague obscenities as I honk for them to move out of the way.

The Walter Mitty alter ego engages; formulating plans to eradicate these jerks by some diabolical gadget I’ve installed in the side of my vehicle, something which lashes out, rips and shreds their lower calf muscles, possibly a piece of barbed wire or a rotating blade that slices pieces of blue jeans off as it digs into the meat below and leaves them on the curb grimacing in pain, wishing they had learned to respect their elders, too late, they had their chance. Instead, I drive around them and bite my tongue, once again, and hope that some day they grow up to be the fine citizens they have the potential to become, learning that we all have such a wonderful neighborhood and wouldn’t it be even better if we learned to be civil to each other.

Lastly on the list of things lost in this tragic encounter will be the lovely yard that Martin has taken care of all these years. While he’s away, locked behind bars, who will maintain the grass, the flowers and shrubs? I doubt if his next door neighbors, the parents of the slain young man will see the irony of the situation, jump up and volunteer to fill in for him while he’s “away”. So the entire neighborhood has one less beautiful yard, one of those prize manicured lawns to travel past as they head for work each day.