Arresting Developments

A suspect has been caught and charged with performing the vandalism on our house and property. We got a call late last night. Connie, our stalking neighbor - or should I say Vanessa's stalking neighbor/friend - saw someone (unsure of the sex) lingering around the street right near our house. Being that it was about 20 degrees at the time with a wind chill of minus 2, it was strange for this person to just skulk around for half an hour, which is how long Connie observed before calling the police.

What Connie was doing observing for 30 minutes is another story that I'm sure she'll discuss in depth with Vanessa this morning.

The police didn't say who the person was or even if they charged that person. Just that they brought a suspicious person "downtown" for questioning.

We're all tentatively relieved. Except Grace took it very strangely. No smile. No big sigh of weight off her shoulders. Instead, it looked like she'd just swallowed a stick of melted butter. Then she excused herself and retreated back to her bedroom. Maybe it all finally hit home for her that something weird was going on around us. As if the wrap around my sprained right wrist wasn't enough for her.

But her reaction reminded me of something that happened one winter when I was about 13 years old. Dad, I mean "Red" Scott was home for an extended period of time. It might have been the winter between his last season playing and first broadcasting. Must have been, because he was pretty depressed, sort of stuck between two places and unsure what step to take next. (My shrink is going to have a field day with this.)

He needed to go to the Sheetz, a mini mart type of place downtown, to buy something. I forget what exactly he needed. But he asked me to go with him. No. He told me to go with him. I dropped whatever I was doing that was probably way more important at the time and joined him in our Subaru wagon. It had snowed recently, so the roads were slippery. I remember thinking we'd never get out of the parking spot he chose. It was more than half covered with thick black ice.

We went inside and made our way to the rear of the store, the refrigerated section. "Red" reached into a case and BAM! Some guy had entered the store with a gun and fired a shot. We both dropped to the floor. BAM! If you think we were scared after the first shot, I'm glad you didn't see us after the second. I peed in my pants. Literally. Only later would embarrassment creep into my totally self-conscious teenage head.

"Red" pulled on my leg and I realized I'd been almost comatose for a few seconds. I followed him as he crawled further back in the store.

Still no words from up front. Just the two shots, a pair of screams from inside the store, but no yelling or threats. Within moments - although it seemed like forever - the gunman left. "Red" was peeking through the canned treats section and saw the guy, dressed in a big green parka with a hood lined around its edges with fur. Once he was gone, "Red" jumped up and ran to the front. The man who had been working behind the counter was on the floor bleeding, but not dead. The register drawer was open and mostly empty. "Red" hopped the counter and started to help the wounded man while I finally found the courage to stand up. It was then that I looked out the big front window and saw the gunman trying to steal our car. He wasn't getting anywhere because of the black ice we had parked on. He was just about to finally make it out of the spot when two police cars raced into the parking lot. The man was caught. His eyes searched and rested on mine. The look on his face... It was like he'd just swallowed a stick of melted butter.

In school the next day, the story was about "Red" helping to save a dying man with CPR and me making eye contact with a potential murderer. I didn't tell anybody about my pee stain. Thirteen year olds are supposed to be stronger than that.

The problem is, if I was put in the same situation today, I'd probably do the same thing. And so would "Red."

I guess time doesn't do much to change people. They have to do it themselves.