men in cars with eyes

Today marks the end of my work in Brooklyn. To honor the day thus far I have had hugs, well-wishes and regulars come by to see me off. The most unusual and remarkable by far though has been a visit from our local delegate of the Neighborhood Watch of Children.

This powerful young man, age seven, has stopped in many a time before. He likes to check for candy, survey the premises for rats and shop for the "fancy dresses" he's going to buy his teacher as soon as he finds out her birthday. Today, he parked himself on the stool in front of my desk and offered to help slice up business cards with the paper cutter. I declined. I declined because he is seven and I don't have a car to drive him to the hospital when he lops off a finger.

However, he stated his main purpose in coming in today was that he had "seen the other ladies leave" and "wanted to see if [I am] okay in here alone." In the event, I was not going to be alright, he assured me that "if someone came to rob you, I'd just punch them." Aw seven-year-olds are so protectively violent.

During the course of our discussion, it was made apparent that he takes his watch duties very seriously. He and his grandmother know where I live, know that I am second in command here at the shop but he wants me to know that he's glad I live in the neighborhood (despite my not being Polish) because I am "nice." Mostly, he says, he watches around for his cousin (whom he proclaims an idiot) as this cousin can never find his way home. From time to time though he has to "watch for the bad men in the cars with the eyes."





The bad men in the cars with the eyes.









I love Orwell. I believe we are watched from time to time. But to hear a child say nonchalantly that he is on the lookout for bad men "with the eyes" and has to alert everyone of their presence so no one will "play near them" is horrifying. My efforts to get a clearer picture of who exactly these men were or what the hell might be wrong with their eyes were in vain. Again, my little warrior is only seven, so his vocabulary is limited despite his fluency in both English and Polish to a basic definition of the world - the literal child's definition.


So I am left today with the warmth of goodbyes and the icy, bone-chilling knowledge that somewhere around the neighborhood there are some very bad men. At least I have my little soldier to protect me.