Tiny Coconut

I have things.

Friday, March 26, 2004

Good People

I live in this land out of time here in Los Angeles County. When we first considered moving here, we used to take drives up into the foothills and go up and down streets, just to get a "feel" for the place. The first time we came up here on a Saturday night, at around 8, and realized that the entire town had shut down, we just couldn't get over it. "Maybe it's Vegas night," Baroy laughed. "The entire town went to Vegas for the night, and they're all out there, gambling and drinking and carousing."

But no. This is Small Town America, right smack dab in the middle of Big City LA. (Well, on the outskirts, really. But that doesn't work as well.) That has its up sides and its down sides as everyone well knows. But I really love it here. I feel comfortable. Sure, we're the only Jewish family in the school, best I can tell. And at the annual picnics in the park on Fourth of July and Memorial Day and Labor Day, there will be more "Vote Republican" booths than you can shake a stick at. But I can deal with that. At our last house, where diversity ruled both ethnically and politically, our garage door regularly got tagged with graffiti. There were gunshots heard nearby more times than I like to think about. Here? Those teenaged ruffians regularly TP the house down the block. Baroy and I like to joke about how it doesn't just seem like another era here--it actually IS another era here. And that suits me just fine.

So I wasn't surprised, today, to get an envelope in the mail from a woman who lives just a few blocks away. In it was my driver's license. The license I lost on Monday when I went running. (I had it in a zipped pocket, but then I started messing around with something else, and I forgot it was in there, and...well, obviously, it just dropped out while I wasn't paying attention.) I wasn't surprised, but I was really, really pleased. Had this happened in my old neighborhood, I'd have been down to the DMV the next day replacing that license, knowing it was gone forever. But here...Baroy and I both said, 'give it a few days. Someone will probably drop it off in our mailbox.' And someone did. With a note attached, and a name.

Thank you, Rebecca Bailey. You're good people.

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