South of Sunnyside

As my workday was winding down, I looked out my window, which overlooks a neighborhood with a not-so-friendly reputation in Southeast Fresno. A boy (I’d guess he was in his mid-teens), covered by a white, hooded sweatshirt three sizes too big, bent down, and it looked as though he was writing on the ground.

As he stood up, I tried to decipher the small object in his hand; when he stopped to tag a cinder block wall, I realized he was holding a very small can of paint.

As entertaining as it was to watch him constantly turn around to see if someone was coming, I was perturbed by his actions—I have no patience for taggers. Graffiti can be artful, but tagging gets under my skin. Especially when it’s on a wall that was just cleaned the day before.

So, I called the police.

Honestly, I didn’t think they’d respond. If they did, he’d probably be long-gone from my view. But, I kid you not, within 3 minutes of ending my phone call I heard a distinctive sounds of a helicopter. "There’s no way that’s in response to my call," I muttered to a co-worker. But sure enough, the helicopter circled, repeatedly, the exact spot I had described on the phone.

I’m not sure if the kid was caught; either way, that’s an expensive form of police patrol. Nonetheless, my hat’s off to the Fresno Police Department for such a quick response time—obviously this is something they are trying to curb. Along with the theft of wire from street lights in my neighborhood…