(no subject)
Tonight I was downtown (or as Chicagoans say "in the Loop"), at school. Working in the sound lab and doing my radio show. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to grab something to eat when I got home. It was freezing out. Below freezing.
I walked the rest of the way home. Two jackets on, one hat and my hood up. Hands in pockets until I remember to bring my gloves along. Dark outside. I got within a block of my home and I heard something. Normally when you live in a city like Chicago you learn to filter out a lot of those somethings. I'd just gotten off a train where one man asked me for a quarter (in a kind of creepy way), another finished his 40 of malt liquor before tossing it down the aisle and another was screaming about George Bush at the top of his lungs. I walk alone a lot. I filter a lot out.
But I heard something and stopped. I looked behind me. It couldn't be what I thought it was. Right? Coming toward me?
It was. As sad as it looked. Coming toward me . A very young boy, wearing pajamas and white sandals. Carrying a pink blanket. A baby. He could barely keep his arms around her. "Excuse me! Help me!"
"What's going on?' That's all I could think to say. I rushed toward them. "What happened?"
He told me that his parents went outside. He went outside and got locked out. He knocked on the door but nobody answered. He thinks they left.
I asked where he lived. He told me 'around the block,' but I got the impression that he just wanted help. I asked if he knew his parents' phone number, and he didn't. His name is Jerry. The baby that he was struggling to carry is Cathy, and she's 11 months old. One month older than my niece. She was crying. I told him that I would get them help. I called the police. It was 11:40 pm.
He told me that he's eight years old. I helped him to keep the baby covered. He told me that she's been sick. His eyes were red, but he was keeping very contained. I told him that he was being a good big brother, taking care of his sister. I tried to make a little small talk. He told me that his parents had been fighting, and that's part of how he ended up outside with a sick 11 month old baby girl in pajamas and a pink blanket.
I suggested they sit down in the doorway of a little shop to keep out of the cold. A small guitar lesson & repair shop. He was doing a good job as a brother, I told him. Help will be here any second. Cathy was crying, so I looked at her and talked to her for a second. She had a head of thick, dark hair. Her tiny earlobes were pierced. Jerry told me "They were fighting over the car, I think that's why they left. My dad wasn't supposed to take the car because he'd been drinking. He was supposed to take the van. But he took the car, so they were fighting."
After a bit, the guy who ran the shop opened the door. His face was a little confused. I forgot that he lives above the shop - maybe he'd been sleeping. I told him the situation and he had them come inside to get warm. I told him that the police were on their way, and I'd stay outside to flag them down. The kids went inside. The glass door closed, and I could see this man who I'm assuming is a confirmed bachelor rockabilly guitarist in his late 40s try to figure out how to console these kids.
Within a minute, a crying woman with a cel phone showed up and found her kids inside. She went in and I think the guitarist calmed her down and tried to stall her a second. The police showed up and I flagged them down. I told them the situation, let them know that the mother had just showed up. They told me they wanted to talk to her and make sure that everything was okay. They thanked me for calling them.
I stood there for a minute, not really sure what to do. Hoping for the best for these kids. I heard an older woman wailing in Spanish for these kids, so I attempted to go tell her that they were okay. But she was literally zig-zagging between houses. I couldn't catch up to her, so I came back and saw the police going with the mother, Jerry and Cathy back to their house. I was glad to see that the police were taking it seriously.
I got home and felt deflated. Confused and not sure what to think. I did the dishes and other menial stuff around home while I thought about it all. I realized that I couldn't really change those kids' lives in big ways. I was just there tonight, and it was a good thing that I happened to be there. There really wasn't anyone else around. They could have wandered in the cold for a very long time. They could have run into someone who didn't care. Or much worse. So maybe just by being there, by calling for help and waiting with them and being calm and consoling, that was a little way of helping them.
I can only hope that some kind of long lasting good comes of it. Maybe it'll be a wakeup call for lousy parents to clean up their act. At the very least I know that one person has told this eight year old boy that he is a good person and a big brother. Someone who didn't talk down to him or call him a 'kid.' And that's something.
Besides that, I can only hope for the best. But that's an image that doesn't quickly leave your head - a young boy in pajamas carrying his baby sister in 24 degree weather, calling for help to the only person outside. I'm glad that I was the one who saw it, though.
I walked the rest of the way home. Two jackets on, one hat and my hood up. Hands in pockets until I remember to bring my gloves along. Dark outside. I got within a block of my home and I heard something. Normally when you live in a city like Chicago you learn to filter out a lot of those somethings. I'd just gotten off a train where one man asked me for a quarter (in a kind of creepy way), another finished his 40 of malt liquor before tossing it down the aisle and another was screaming about George Bush at the top of his lungs. I walk alone a lot. I filter a lot out.
But I heard something and stopped. I looked behind me. It couldn't be what I thought it was. Right? Coming toward me?
It was. As sad as it looked. Coming toward me . A very young boy, wearing pajamas and white sandals. Carrying a pink blanket. A baby. He could barely keep his arms around her. "Excuse me! Help me!"
"What's going on?' That's all I could think to say. I rushed toward them. "What happened?"
He told me that his parents went outside. He went outside and got locked out. He knocked on the door but nobody answered. He thinks they left.
I asked where he lived. He told me 'around the block,' but I got the impression that he just wanted help. I asked if he knew his parents' phone number, and he didn't. His name is Jerry. The baby that he was struggling to carry is Cathy, and she's 11 months old. One month older than my niece. She was crying. I told him that I would get them help. I called the police. It was 11:40 pm.
He told me that he's eight years old. I helped him to keep the baby covered. He told me that she's been sick. His eyes were red, but he was keeping very contained. I told him that he was being a good big brother, taking care of his sister. I tried to make a little small talk. He told me that his parents had been fighting, and that's part of how he ended up outside with a sick 11 month old baby girl in pajamas and a pink blanket.
I suggested they sit down in the doorway of a little shop to keep out of the cold. A small guitar lesson & repair shop. He was doing a good job as a brother, I told him. Help will be here any second. Cathy was crying, so I looked at her and talked to her for a second. She had a head of thick, dark hair. Her tiny earlobes were pierced. Jerry told me "They were fighting over the car, I think that's why they left. My dad wasn't supposed to take the car because he'd been drinking. He was supposed to take the van. But he took the car, so they were fighting."
After a bit, the guy who ran the shop opened the door. His face was a little confused. I forgot that he lives above the shop - maybe he'd been sleeping. I told him the situation and he had them come inside to get warm. I told him that the police were on their way, and I'd stay outside to flag them down. The kids went inside. The glass door closed, and I could see this man who I'm assuming is a confirmed bachelor rockabilly guitarist in his late 40s try to figure out how to console these kids.
Within a minute, a crying woman with a cel phone showed up and found her kids inside. She went in and I think the guitarist calmed her down and tried to stall her a second. The police showed up and I flagged them down. I told them the situation, let them know that the mother had just showed up. They told me they wanted to talk to her and make sure that everything was okay. They thanked me for calling them.
I stood there for a minute, not really sure what to do. Hoping for the best for these kids. I heard an older woman wailing in Spanish for these kids, so I attempted to go tell her that they were okay. But she was literally zig-zagging between houses. I couldn't catch up to her, so I came back and saw the police going with the mother, Jerry and Cathy back to their house. I was glad to see that the police were taking it seriously.
I got home and felt deflated. Confused and not sure what to think. I did the dishes and other menial stuff around home while I thought about it all. I realized that I couldn't really change those kids' lives in big ways. I was just there tonight, and it was a good thing that I happened to be there. There really wasn't anyone else around. They could have wandered in the cold for a very long time. They could have run into someone who didn't care. Or much worse. So maybe just by being there, by calling for help and waiting with them and being calm and consoling, that was a little way of helping them.
I can only hope that some kind of long lasting good comes of it. Maybe it'll be a wakeup call for lousy parents to clean up their act. At the very least I know that one person has told this eight year old boy that he is a good person and a big brother. Someone who didn't talk down to him or call him a 'kid.' And that's something.
Besides that, I can only hope for the best. But that's an image that doesn't quickly leave your head - a young boy in pajamas carrying his baby sister in 24 degree weather, calling for help to the only person outside. I'm glad that I was the one who saw it, though.