My parents live near the Texas/Mexico border. Whereas it used to feel like a safe place to live and visit, that is no longer the case. The crime and violence that is now so prevalent on the Mexican side is coming across the border.
One of the last times we went to visit, Jason and my dad went in Dad’s pick up truck to Sam’s Club to do some shopping. It was the middle of the afternoon and they parked near the front of the store. They weren’t in the store long, and when they went back to the truck, Dad said, “Jason, didn’t I ask you to lock the truck?” Jason had locked it, but the door was unlocked. When Dad tried to put the key in the ignition, he found it wouldn’t go in. Someone had broken in and tried to steal the truck.
Dad called the police, and the store security arrived immediately. Before they finished talking, there were about six police cars there. The police said the surveillance cameras had pictures of the thieves, but that nobody would testify against them, so there was no use even reporting the incident. Sophisticated gangs have somebody breaking in while others are on the lookout. Evidently, Jason and Dad got back to the truck just in time not to lose the truck, but my Dad had to have it towed and pay hundreds of dollars to get it fixed.
The next day I went shopping with my mom. With thoughts of the attempted theft, I was a bit nervous to have to walk out to the van by myself to change a diaper, and as I walked, I kept going through scenarios in my head of all the what if’s.
When I got in the van I noticed a man in a golf cart. I crawled in the side door quickly, turned to lock the door and nervously glanced back up looking for the golf cart man, but was relieved that he was gone. Then I heard a knock at the window right behind me. It was he. “What’s the problem?” I yelled at him. Nothing. Then knock, knock, knock. With little Jason on the floor in front of me and the diaper in hand, I yelled again, “What’s the problem?” The man wouldn’t say anything or look at me. He just knocked again.
Somehow through my growing panic I finally noticed that his nice white golf shirt said, “Security.” I was determined not to open the door. I mean, any weirdo could buy a golf cart and a white t-shirt with a security logo. Finally, I held up my baby in one hand and the diaper in the other and yelled, “I’m changing my baby!” opera style. Those must have been the magic words because he finally spoke and asked if everything was okay. Whew, it was all okay as I watched him drive away!