THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, June 1, 1995 TAG: 9505310167
SECTION: SUFFOLK SUN PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: John Pruitt
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
We'd hardly even gotten moved into Suffolk good before the thefts started: a bicycle, left unattended for a short time on the sidewalk beside our house, near Christmas; a ceramic table, bought by my late Navy father-in-law during one of his trips to the Orient, from our front porch; hanging baskets, also from the porch; and, perhaps the most galling: a whole flat of begonias, neatly planted in a bed, plucked right out of the ground in the cover of night.
We'd lived on Hampton Boulevard, one of Norfolk's busiest roadways, before moving to Suffolk, and we'd never seen anything like it.
Yes, there had been the awful traffic and the occasional car careening into our shrubs. But no one had ever taken anything. And, to our knowledge, no one had tried to get in, except the terribly drunk man who knocked on our door late one night.
And now that we'd moved to Suffolk, we knew we wouldn't confront even those disruptions any more.
The worst was yet to come: stupidly leaving our windows open and only screen storm windows separating thieves from the pick of our house, we drove off for a July 3 chore and found that someone indeed had seen the opportunity - and had taken it.
And with that intrusion came a life-changing realization: that our doors could never again be left unlocked, not even while we occupied the house. If we were going into the back yard, the front door would have to be locked; if anticipated being out of sight of the back door while we were outside, that also would have to be locked.
On her rare visits, my mother detests it. She wonders how we can stand being locked in all the time. And my visiting niece and her children can't believe it has to be this way: What kind of place imposes such limitations?
Nowadays, the answer is: practically any kind of place - rural, urban, suburban. Suffolk does, for sure.
If you want some evidence, just check the Suffolk Crime Report, published routinely as a service of this publication (See page 24.). Nothing is safe - not city decals, not car telephones, not jewelry, not even heavy building materials.
What this says is that Suffolk, no less than the most urban cities, is afflicted by a disease called what's-yours-is-mine.
The old-time notion of working to earn possessions is so eroded that I sometimes wonder if it is just passing out of style. Theft out of desperation is one thing - and there certainly is good argument that, for most of us, there are plenty of alternatives to that - but theft for the simple sake of having what someone else has seemingly is nearing widespread acceptance.
Maybe the thieves who break into cars for cellular telephones and compact discs believe it's OK because insurance will pay. And who, do they imagine, pays the higher insurance rates because of their shenanigans?
Maybe the people who go around lifting baskets from people's front porches think it's no big deal.
Do they give any consideration to the larger matter of intrusion - of having a stranger trespass on one's property to take something that doesn't belong to them? Do they even consider the long term damage, the doubts about whether future purchases will stick around or whether the thieves will get bolder and not stop at the front porch the next time?
If you don't routinely read the Crime Report, start. It isn't just interesting reading, it's for your protection.
Check out your district, figure out the kinds of crimes taking place there and take steps to prevent becoming a victim.
We may never again see the day when, for some people, working for something has more appeal than thievery.
The least we can do is to make theft very, very hard work. And we can also make it risky. by CNB