for 7 MAY 07: TWO DOORS DOWN

Things suddenly looked different this weekend at apartment #5. A curtain no longer covered the front window, and a look inside found only scattered furnishings in the living room. Was someone taking spring cleaning even more seriously than I do?

By talking to a neighbor Sunday, I found out what really happened - and it actually was better news than I feared. Curtis had moved out, after a few weeks of home hospice care. He'd become so weak that I wondered if he was dead. And a big family cookout near the apartment courtyard Saturday could have doubled as a wake.

Curtis has lived in apartment #5 for as long as I've lived in Columbus. My first "run-in" with him occurred on a Sunday night in 1997 - when I happened to look outside my front door and find a couch pillow on fire on the grass. Thankfully, this was a year when Columbus had enough rain to keep the risk of a Historic District wildfire minimal.

"Don't you worry about that," Curtis said from his front porch.

"Sir, that thing is within 15 feet of my front door," I replied. "I'm paying attention to it." Not enough to call the fire department, though - not unless Curtis threw more burning items out the door.

It turned out Curtis had been smoking, and apparently sparked a couch pillow fire while he was relaxing. But I kept waiting for him to put the fire out -- and he didn't. Perhaps he went back to bed, because his sleep was interrupted.

I watched the couch pillow until it burned up. The fire didn't spread to the lawn, but I poured two buckets of water on the ashes to make sure everything was settled. This was before anyone could report you to Columbus Water Works for violating drought rules.

The burning pillow didn't establish relations easily with Curtis - and his tendency to smoke and curse didn't make things any easier. I might wave hello or say "good morning" to him, but I didn't go beyond that. As I heard a radio preacher say Sunday: there are times when nothing is better than something.

The biggest incident I had with Curtis came in October 2000 - when the man in apartment #5 sat down on his front porch at 11:30 p.m. and decided to fire a shotgun. (Read more about this below.) As far as I know, I was the only one who called police about it. Everyone else in the complex must be much sounder sleepers than I.

Curtis was taken to the police station that night, and I kept very clear of him after that. But the following spring, I decided to attempt to make peace with Curtis - and was amazed to find he was willing to apologize. "I had been drinking," he explained. If Curtis had been robbed after one of his lottery tickets had hit a big jackpot, he would have made a sinner's trifecta.

Things were much more peaceful after that short chat in the spring of 2001. Curtis would notice when I went running, and wished he had the strength to do the same thing. He didn't run from the police officers that night, after all.

But over the last couple of years, Curtis has become "skin-and-bones" thin. He suggested once that it was due to stomach cancer, although I'm not absolutely sure that's his problem now. Curtis could barely walk to a car, for rides to the doctor. And how he could stand long shuttle bus rides to the V.A. Medical Center in Montgomery, I don't know - unless the buses have built-in IV machines.

A hospice sticker appeared on Curtis's front door a few weeks ago, and caregivers started making daily visits to apartment #5. But now he's moving in with a granddaughter, and could be bound for a nursing home. Do those homes have any way for him to buy lottery tickets?

It's a shame I didn't get to wish Curtis farewell, as he moved out Saturday afternoon. I wanted to finally ask him about a trophy on his front window sill, which looked like an award for track and field. How ironic it would have been if Curtis was honored for the shot put - because a few years after putting out the
wrong shot, now his body seems simply to BE shot.

BLOG UPDATE: As for my health: the test results from my PPD exam were processed Sunday - and I'm pleased to report I do NOT have tuberculosis. That's one form of "tuber-ville" I never want to visit in person....

I misunderstood the PPD test, so I should clarify what happened. A bubble of fluid developed under the skin of my right arm when the needle was stuck in me Thursday. It was NOT a "button" inserted inside my skin - but there's still a red dot, which I'm still a bit afraid to smush.

The healing process from my "bug" still is going well. The cough from fluid in my lungs is now occasional, not continuous. And I was able to speak full sentences Sunday, without my voice fluttering. Now all I need to do is be careful about what I say.

E-MAIL UPDATE: We have not forgotten Hurtsboro on this Monday. The local Constable wouldn't want that to happen....

Richard:

It was quite a surprise when the anonymous person announced the birth of a Blog in Hurtsboro! [2 May] I wish them well!! In fact, I sent them a one line message -"Congratulations!" This morning I received notice that it was undelivered. I'm far from expert with a computer - but I have experienced some difficulty in "pulling up" the website. Perhaps it's just me.

There are several things that you haven't discovered about me. In my efforts to raise public awareness to some issues; I organized a citizens group called SOS and published a newsletter called NEWS & VIEWS. A meeting place was secured (with difficulty) and the public, County Officials, and every City Official were invited. Our motto EVERY VOICE WILL BE HEARD! Only eerie silence hung in the air!

Because it was deemed that fear might be a deterrent in getting someone to speak out in public; the newsletter was created, and anonymous submissions were encourged. Did I say "encouraged;" It was "discouraging! Not one complaint or compliment was registered!!

I suspect that the new Blog will get the same results. However,I wish them every success. Perhaps their attempt at denial and effort to sugar-coat what really goes on in Hurtsboro will be better received than my nearly futile attempt to rally interest, and subsequent action.

What an opportunity for Paul Harvey and his "Rest Of The Story!"

Thanks Richard,

Constable R.J. Schweiger.

I went to The Blog of Hurtsboro Sunday and tried to leave a comment, passing on the Constable's congratulations. But while the main page says comments are welcome, the "comment page" indicated only "team members" could post a comment. I was not allowed to post -- but maybe we should be thankful Hurtsboro still is big enough to have a team.

Constable Schweiger's efforts to start a community newsletter on Hurtsboro could have several explanations. It could be that most people in town don't really care one way or another - just like the same small group in Columbus tended to call "Talkline" all the time.

The new Hurtsboro blog seems ready to focus on nice, positive things about the town. If that's what the author wants to do, he or she has every right to do that. But I've known plenty of TV channels and radio stations which promised sections of "good news" - and only the Phenix Citizen-News's section seems to have survived.

LAUGHLINE FLASHBACK: We were writing humor for subscribers seven years ago, when our neighbor Curtis stepped onto the front porch late at night with a shotgun. It became the new lead of the LaughLine edition of 25 Oct 00:

About 11:30 Tuesday night, a man sat down on the porch two doors down from LaughLine World Headquarters - and fired a shotgun! As you might expect, we were shocked. After all, this was BEFORE the Mets took the lead over the Yankees [in the World Series].

(We'd told this man about our collision with a deer the other night, but apparently never explained it happened 200 miles away.)

We went to our door and asked the man about the loud bang we'd heard. "That was me," he said with the shotgun open. "You'd better close the door."

"Why did you do that?" we dared to ask.

"I'm crazy." (Isn't it refreshing to know some people aren't afraid to ADMIT this?)

"Same reason I burned my clothes in the yard and that other thing in the yard," the neighbor continued. The clothing we didn't remember - but he DID set fire to a couch pillow about 20 feet from our front door on a Sunday night a couple of years ago. We figured then he'd fallen asleep while smoking. Now we wonder if the man was testing his smoke detector battery.

"Close the door now," he repeated, more as a statement of fact than a threat. We did close our door - then quietly went to the phone and called 911. (Our office window was open, so we talked almost in a whisper.) Then we went back to watching the baseball game - prone on the floor. Now we know how New Yorkers will feel after one team wins the World Series.

About 15 minutes later came a loud knock at our door. We turned on the outside light and opened it only a couple of inches, our body angled so it wouldn't be in a line of fire -- but no one was there. Moments later, we heard police talking to the shooter. He admitted firing into the air, saying something about frustration with folks knocking on doors in the neighborhood. Wow -- we simply told the cable guy we didn't want service.

We finally opened the door, and found five police officers around. They took the shotgun shooter to jail, after asking about other weapons in his apartment. We don't know if he had any - but we wanted them to find his hunting license, while they were inside.

(This leads to our legal tip of the day: many libraries have books with forms you can copy - so you can update your will.)

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