The Little Girls Make an Appearance

I signed the lease this morning.  I spoke to the rental agent about installing some securing measures in the home, including an alarm system, and he agreed.  Upon my second visit to the neighborhood, I felt a bit better about living in the house.  Not because the neighborhood improved overnight or anything,  but because I have become determined to make it work.  Despite the questionable neighborhood, the house itself is great.  A two-story, turn-of-the-century home with a “parlor” in the front and a big yard for Lulu in the back.  As my mom and I were moving things into the house, three little girls from the neighborhood came by to say hello.  I guess, they weren’t really little—they are junior high school students—but they aren’t weathered and hardened like most of the adults in the neighborhood, which gives them a certain youth and innocence that I find charming.  They said how happy they were that someone was moving into the house (apparently, it has been empty for some time now) and they wanted to meet Lulu and talk about their respective pets.  I can’t exactly say why, but after talking to the Little Girls (which will be their collective name henceforth), I felt a certain amount of relief.  Perhaps not the same kind of relief I would feel if just one adult in this neighborhood would acknowledge my presence, but relief nonetheless.   I also knew that if the Little Girls were on my side, they would alert me to any strange activity around my home, since they were out playing in the streets all day until the street lights came on.  Perhaps I will be able to find my place in this neighborhood yet.

Arrival in Dayton-- Where the Hell Am I??

I didn’t write about Dayton the first day I arrived.  I couldn’t.  My first impressions of my new neighborhood were so negative that I needed to sit on it for another day before I wrote anything.   It’s not like I didn’t do my research before moving here.  I did.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I moved here with the understanding that my new neighborhood is poor, undereducated, underemployed, and overwhelmingly white.  But as I turned down my street for the first time, the decaying sidewalks and dilapidated homes made me apprehensive.  Neighbors turned their heads to watch me as a drove down the street.  This is a neighborhood full of locals and I, with my California tan, white-rimmed sunglasses, and Cali license plates on my car, immediately let everybody know that I’m not from around these parts.   The porch dwellers stared blankly as I hopped out of my car to check out the house.  Now, after living many years in the South, I have seen my fair share of porch-sitters.  I am no stranger to seeing a couch on the porch.  But these folks have 5-piece living room sets on their front porches.   It’s on another level.  As I pull up to the house, I park behind a truck covered in right-wing and moderately racist political bumper stickers.   

Sayings like, “Zoo Has African Lion, White House Has Lying African” and “Danger! Right Wing Extremist On Board” make me wonder if I will be safe in this house, in this neighborhood.  And I could swear I saw the same kids who were “stalking” the Google van in those Google Earth images.  My thoughts?  To quote GOB Bluth from Arrested Development, “I’ve made a huge mistake.”

I went back to the hotel that night and frantically looked for a new place to live.  I wasn’t set to sign the lease until the next morning.  Yes, I would lose my deposit, but my personal safety is most important.  My mom and I both searched the internet and newspaper for another house, but to no avail.  I am going to sign the lease in the morning and hold my breath….