All the apartment doors at Fred Lind Manor bear metal strips with the names of the residents of the individual apartments.
All the doors except mine, that is.
I returned from a long day--an outpatient visit at Harborview, then lunch with Younger Son, some shopping together (partly so that YS could carry my purchases, which included a jug of bleach), and then the walk home. I had my cane, and wasn't carrying anything except what was in my pockets, but it was uphill. A good, tiring walk.
When we arrived at my apartment, chilled and worn, we were greeted by a blank door--someone had removed my name.
I opened the door with some trepidation--would my things still be there? But the apartment behind the door was the same as I had left it, as far as I could tell, anyway. God and everyone has keys to these apartments, so privacy is minimal.
A sympathetic staff member asked if I had reported the vandalism to the front desk. I'll do that tomorrow, and expect that I'll eventually get a new name sign for my door.
This is not the first time my door has been vandalized. Back in December, someone removed my Christmas wreath from the door. This was a gold-toned metal wreath made of large jingle bells. We'd had it for some time and I was expecting to hand it down to one of the boys.
When I reported that incidence of vandalism (most likely by a resident, because of the building security), the building manager suggested that I call the police. Uh huh. He said that he and his staff had done everything they could, which was exactly nothing.
Not even a note in the elevator asking the culprit to please return my wreath.
Many of you have asked (and many more may have wondered) why I stay here. Well, after a very tough year, it is my home. My house is gone, and this little studio apartment is now my home.
I have a few friends in the building, and I don't want to move. I'd like to stay and I'd also like to see things improve, although I admit the hostile climate shakes me up a bit.
@ jeanne marie sather 2013.