Shannon Cason - Downstairs Neighbors

 

 

We were coming down the stairs when they were coming in. A new family had moved into the three flat building. We lived in Chicago. They were moving into the basement apartment, which is really small for a family. I stopped, talked to the husband, my wife talked to the wife, and our two-year-old daughters introduced themselves on the porch. They had a two-year-old and we had a two-year-old me. The father smiled looking at our little girls. Kids introduced themselves by what they have like, “This is my doll. Well, this is my bear.” [audience chuckles] 

 

The father said that they were moving from the shelter down the street and happy to have a place to call home. I told him, “I know how it is, man. If you need anything, just give a knock upstairs. Anything.” We left and they went inside. The very next day, I get a knock at the door. It's the father. He's asking for money for a train fare to go downtown. I told him, “It's no problem. I'm headed downtown myself to go to work. We can just walk together. I'll swipe you through.” 

 

We walk down the sidewalk, and it's a long line of three flat buildings like ours. And across the street is this big apartment building. The uptown neighborhood in Chicago. Super diverse. It's Asians, Africans, Europeans, Americans, all of us. You can get Starbucks coffee from one building, a fifth of Henny from the next building. Mexican food, Thai food, Ethiopian food or some Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, all on your way to the train. The side we're walking on has this big church with a shelter in the basement, and then it's the corner store. There's guys who hang outside at the corner. There's been some shootings at the corner. 

 

I ignore the guys on the corner. They sell drugs on the corner. It's gangs in Chicago, if you hadn't heard. I don't know. [audience chuckles] I'm from Detroit, so I'm not clueless. I know, like, if you're not from a certain area, it's best just to keep your eyes open but go unseen. They ignore me. I ain't got nothing to do with what they doing. It's none of my business. I was a little concerned that my new neighbor knew all the guys on the corner really well. [audience chuckles] But we talked on the train, laughed. He was a cool guy. His name was Jesse. 

 

So, one night, I get a knock at the door. It's after midnight. My wife works late. She wasn't home. It was the mother from downstairs. She was asking to borrow $20 for some baby diapers. First off, it's after midnight. The baby should be asleep. The store is closed. The other thing, I guess she forgot that we have a two-year-old, too. So, when I gave her a few baby diapers to make it through the night, she looked disappointed, [audience laughter] which made me suspicious. 

 

Another night, I get another knock at the door after midnight. My wife went home. It was the mother. She had her daughter in her arms, and she just passes her daughter over to me and she says, “It's an emergency. She's in a frantic.” And says, “If you could just watch her for the night.” I got her daughter in my arms. She didn't wait for answer. She just leaves. I go to the window and I can see the mother get in the car with this guy who wasn't Jesse and drive off. I knew it was drugs. Be real with you, I knew it was crack, meth, something, nothing. You ain't that hyper that early in the morning or late at night unless it's drugs or the pursuit of some drugs. The thing is I have a heart towards people with addictions. I got some on my own. It's not drugs, but I'm not a stranger to community rec rooms and church basements myself. 

 

In the morning, my wife, Cindy, she makes breakfast for everybody. And the girls, they play in the living room. My daughter Zoey, she brought every toy she ever got into the living room. Kids are like show offs. I tell her, “Zoey, which toy you going to let Ashley have?” And Zoey give me that look like, “What?” [audience laughter] But Zoey is generous. She gave her this doll better than I expected. It's this little doll with a bonnet and pigtails coming out of the bonnet. My wife, Cindy, she calls Ashley's mom and tell her that we'll just keep the girls another night, because the girls are having fun. And that evening, they share the bed and I tuck them into the Dora the Explorer covers. 

 

So, one night, I'm coming home from work, from the train. I pass by the corner store, and the corners are empty. It's nice, like a regular neighborhood. I pass by the big church with the shelter in the basement, the big apartment building across the street. I get to my place. All the guys who would normally be at the corner are sitting on my porch smoking with Jesse. I just stood there for a sec. I can't ignore it now. I ain't got nothing against a little puff-puff past, but not on my porch. The thing is I grew up worse neighborhoods than this uptown Chicago neighborhood. This is nice. This is great. 

 

Honestly, I worked my ass off to get to this point in life. I’ll be damned. My family grew up around the same drugs and violence that I saw growing up just at a distance at the corner, but not on my porch. But I don't say anything. I just go inside. They had been smoking in the basement apartment, and it was seeping up into our place. And my wife, she isn't as passive as me. She went straight downstairs, banged on the door like the police, said, “Y'all got to stop smoking down here. My daughter in the house, coughing.” They just went outside to the porch. I went downstairs to talk to Jesse. I'm like, “What's up, man?” He just shook his head. I'm like, “How many people you got living down here now?” He said, “It was just them, but the guys from the corner would come in and out, but they hard to get rid of. They like roaches.” I told him, “Man, y' all go have a tough time there, because my wife hates roaches.” [audience laughter] 

 

Cindy had saw some guys from the corner selling drugs in front of our house, and she yelled out the window to him, “If I see it again, I'm going to call the police.” She told me when I got home from work, like, “Baby, you can't just go yelling out the window to a bunch of drug dealers and gang members that you go call the police. If they get caught, who they going to point at? You smarter than that, baby.” She was just frustrated. 

 

Cindy saw some guys selling drugs again, and she told me she was going to call the police. I stopped her. “You don't call the police.” I grew up in Detroit in the 1980s crack era. I got this programming in my mind, you don't call the police. First, it's a distrust of the police actually doing something to help the situation. Another thing is retaliation from the people that you're telling on. Snitches get stitches. But then, I thought about that little girl and all the men coming out of that small basement apartment, and the dazed look on her face when I see her or how when she stayed with us, she didn't want to go home. I got to confront this stupid way of thinking. I just can't ignore it. 

 

So, another night, I get a knock at the door after midnight. I'm frustrated now. It's the mother or father from downstairs. I open the door, and it's the police. They tell me to go back inside, lock the door. I could see them all in the little foyer in their vest and gear and one of the officers has a battering ram. I go back inside. I can hear them bust down the door. Boom. I can hear wrestling and scuffling down below. I hear the police yelling and cussing. 

 

I go in to check on my daughter, because my wife wasn't home, and she was still asleep. She didn't even know anything was happening. But I can hear the guys from the corner downstairs screaming at the police, and then it just goes silent. I go to the window, and I can see the police carting all the guys from the corner out to a wagon, and then I see the family Jesse, his wife, and Ashley. 

 

One of the officers is carrying Ashley, and she's in her pink pajamas against his, dark blues and black. She has that little doll that Zoey gave her with the bonnet and the pigtails. I want to go out and tell the officer that we could just keep Ashley until all this is taken care of. But I don't want to go out. And the officer think, I'm with everybody else. We all look the same to the police. I go out, and now I'm arrested and my daughter is in some officer's arms. It's best for me just to stay where I am. None of my business. 

 

For the next few days, the corners empty. No smoke in our apartment, no people sitting on our porch. Then about a week after that, same guys on the corner. They don't say anything to me. I ignore them, they ignore me, we live in two different worlds. At least it sounds good, but I don't know if that's true. I get to my place, and I can hear the landlord downstairs. So, I go down there and see if he go discount my rent for all this stuff we've been putting up with. I'm shocked to see the landlord with the family, Jesse, his wife, and Ashley. 

 

Me and Jesse talk on the porch while our daughters play. And Jesse say, “You didn't have to call the police, man.” I tell him, “I didn't. And I didn't. I don't call the police. I can't be a part of putting more black men in prison as stupid as that may sound or something, but I don't call the police.” But I told him I should have did something, man because you need help. He nodded. He said they had to move. They hadn't paid rent for a year. I asked him what he was going to do. He didn't know. He asked if we can keep Ashley just till he got himself together. I wanted to say, “Yeah, but we can't just take their little girl. I mean, we struggling to make it ourselves. It don't work like that. 

 

We looked at our little girls playing on the porch, and I looked them in the eyes and I said, “Man, whatever it takes, take care of that little girl. Whatever it takes.” I gave him my number, I said, “If you need anything, give me a call. Anything.” Thank you.