This is an Answer to Prayer, You will be Blessed

Last Thursday, the 22nd of January, I received a call from a crisis pregnancy center. Only a few days before I had sent a note introducing myself and an idea we had to partner with them.

“…We are wondering if there is a need and interest at Options to provide short-term housing for women in your care who are pregnant or caring for a newborn. We are able to donate a portion of the rent as well as partner through our non-profit ministry to make required additional costs very small. We can also provide encouragement and emotional support.”

The director of the center had a family in mind that desperately needs help. They have been praying and rejoiced at the news of this offer.

Later that evening I spoke with “T” who has a little baby girl and is six months pregnant. She and her husband are functionally homeless. So we are providing them with a home for the next 12 months.

I look forward to sharing more about this amazing story. The director of the center ended our conversation with the statement “you will be blessed”. We are.

We will be compiling a list of items this young family needs over the next days and weeks. If you would like to support them in any way, please let me know. You will be blessed.

The Brownsville Economy

There are about 1,560 working age adults living in the Brownsville Borough. At any one time, we employ 25-30 drug dealers in the community. Dealers don’t typically work alone. If you count their familial support, their runners, their attorneys, their friends who serve as eyes and ears… it’s not hard to imagine 100-150 folks involved in the supply side of this economy. That’s about 10% of our population. Clearly it is one of the biggest employers in the community. The Brownsville Economy is a Drug Economy.

And I have known many dealers over the years. They are kids, neighbors, friends, grandmothers. They are black, they are white. Some consistently elude the law, many are incarcerated, some are dead.

I have had frightening encounters, thoughtful conversations and shocking points of view from dealers.

We have a very active and brazen dealer still living on our block and selling on our corner. Three times in the past few weeks we have run right into a deal. The unpredictability of a wild animal protecting its home and territory is the best way to describe such an encounter.

I have counseled and prayed with men at my kitchen table who believe they are morally justified in selling drugs as long as the money is used to put food on the table.

I have listened to men use oppression and racism as an excuse to lash back and seek vengeance through selling drugs to those of a different color.

There is not a single reason why the dealer exists. There is not a single solution to the problem. The “War on Drugs” may be a great description of what happens in Columbia, along our borders and against the cartels. But in Brownsville and neighborhoods across our country, the war is against kids, neighbors and families. It’s against a culture, against apathy and even oppression.

And the cost is found in despair, destroyed lives, and the “hard cost” of addictions, law enforcement, treatment and crime that is estimated to be nearly $181 billion (ONDCP Study).

Who can help?

Government. But laws and regulation won’t overcome corruption and the inability to enforce.

Business. But economic opportunity won’t overcome sloth and hatred.

The Church. But silence must be replaced by action.

It will take all and all working and all working together.

Mattress Fire

Last Saturday was a beauty in Brownsville... sunny, blue skies, mid seventies. A great day to open the windows and breathe in the air only Brownsville can produce. Burning shingles, mattresses, couches, asbestos, etc. It's burn day in Brownsville, and we LOVE to burn!

Except that the borough has an ordinance against it. So we called 911, asked the police to come out and enforce the law. The neighbor was burning debris from a remodeling job and had a queen size mattress as an accelerant. I ran into the officer as he was contemplating doing his job. He dutifully took my name and then informed me it is OK to burn mattresses in Brownsville. My first thought was to highlight this with the visitor's bureau or a better way to market the community.

Give me your tired, your old,Your disregarded furniture to burn as we yearn to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the mattresses, shingles, couches, to me:
Visit Brownsville's smoldering doors.

Wow, I digress.

I dutifully informed the officer that, in fact, this resident was actually violating three portions of the code (1) only burn yard debris (2) tend the fire and (3) can't be a nuisance. He did have a chat with the neighbor and they did let the fire burn out, some 2 days later.

I was doing some yard work across the street later that day and I heard from their porch... "he's the one that called the police on us".... a few minutes later "he's the one that called the police on us"... a few minutes later "the officer told me that he's the one that called the police on us".

This had to happen at least six times. I choose to ignore it, was not taking the bait that day.

Makes you wonder about privacy laws when your identity from 911 calls is not held in confidence.

To protect and serve.

Largest Drug Sweep in County History

The DA's office reported that over 100 arrest warrants were issued on Monday in a drug sweep, nearly two-thirds resulted in an arrest; the remaining are at large. At least 12 were served in Brownsville, including the Mayor's brother.

Score one for the good guys, trying to confirm if our neighborhood drug dealer was on the list.

Here is the story with all the names.

Herald Standard Story on Drug Arrests

Birdzilla Attacks Brownsville

We were driving through downtown Brownsville this evening when, from the corner of my eye, I saw something eerily moving along the sidewalk. In fact, there were two of these creatures. It's not every day you see a chicken and a rooster taking a stroll through downtown.

We parked the car and went on a roundup! We herded the chicken and rooster to the train tracks where their odds were at least better than the road.

We heard that they fell off the last freight car through Brownsville. I snapped this picture with my phone once we made it to safety. I also have some amazing footage of the chicken crossing the road. The whole time I just asked myself "Why... Why...?" For another day.

Sue on the Way Out, Bail on the Way In

Who chooses to advertise in your town tells you something about the community. There is really only one way in and out of Brownsville. Citizens and visitors are met by Mitch, the bail bonds, on the way in and Edgar Snyder, personal injury attorney, on the way out

This is the real deal. I wish I was making it up (and, indeed, these signs are back to back).

Hey, My Business Plan Says NO Fibromyalgia

If it wasn’t so close to home it might be funny that someone who opened a store in Brownsville to sell Civil War reenactment supplies is blaming someone else for the business failure. Well, it’s more than blame… they want $10 million. Oh, and it’s more than the business failure… they also want damages for their failed marriage and their failed health.

The story as reported by the Tribune-Review

Hopefully, the picture of the store tells the story far better than my paltry wit and sarcasm.

Task Force Returns Call

For the record, the Fayette County Drug Task Force has attempted to return my call on two occasions at the end of last week. They don't leave return numbers.

At the same time, I had the opportunity to address drug use with the Bible Released Time class on Friday morning. One of the students in the class is one of the juveniles mentioned below. I gave the class five names and asked them what they had in common. Most of the student new exactly the answer I was after.

The names I gave them were Bible Released Time students over the last five years who were or are now drug dealers. I know at least four of the five have spent time in jail; one of the five was killed in drug related activity and one is currently being held by the U.S. Marshal Service (see Alumni posts).

The students were not very interested in talking about this; I suspect I broke some street code. We discussed how it is their responsibility to confront sin.

The very same day, one of the students in class was caught smoking dope on his porch.

Dear Fayette County Drug Task Force

I emailed the following note to the Drug Task Force today (specific names and locations redacted). I also left a message yesterday but have not heard back from them; maybe they're busy?

I own a complex of townhouses in Brownsville Borough. A number of juveniles from the neighborhood have been congregating in around this property at the invitation of two juveniles who live at ### XYZ Street (one of my rental units). I have seen them with marijuana and have smelled the smoke on two separate occasions. My other tenants have witnessed this, as well.

Another neighbor has witnessed a car pull up and one of the juveniles retrieve a package from the residence's mailbox and deliver it to the car. The two juveniles are NAME and NAME (last name is likely NAME, maybe NAME who live at ### XYZ); I don't know their friend's names yet but there are from 4-8 additional juveniles around the property.

I have called 911 on 2-3 separate occasions and have instructed my other tenants to do the same. Brownsville Borough is also aware of the situation and have increased patrols to the area.

Your assistance with this matter is greatly appreciated.

More On Vandalism

Spent the other night with the police, again. Someone took a half a dozen shots at our townhouse... good thing it was only a paintball gun. It cleans easy - so just another hassle.

In the mean time, the Brownsville Neighborhood Watch Program is working around the clock. I got a call from the good folks there about dog poop at the rental property. Like I need a voice message to let me know... I already stepped in it cutting the grass.

The drug dealer to dog poop ratio in Brownsville is probably 12 to 1. If we can keep the place a little cleaner, maybe we can boost that to 25 to 1. That's 25 drug dealers to every poop pile.

Vandalism and Arson Update

I heard this morning that the damage to the Flatiron Building is around $5000. The good news is that two teens were apprehended. They were seen in and around the area shortly after the damage to the building.

The bad news is that one of them has a long history of vandalism, robbery and assault... and the police and/or the court system seem to exhibit leniency.

Also heard that both fires mentioned in earlier posts were definitely ruled arson. About 30 minutes after the house fire that endangered a family of seven, a young man showed up at a local hospital with burns on his face from an accelerant. It is not clear if he or anyone is a suspect.

The Flatiron Building

One of the few bright spots in Brownsville is The Flatiron Building; a renovated historic structure in "downtown" that houses a heritage center, art gallery, meeting rooms and offices.

Last night vandals broke at least six windows along the front of the building. We hope they are apprehended. If you would like to make a donation to support the heritage center or the good work of the Brownsville Area Revitalization Corporation, please follow the link above (it also provides more history and pictures of Brownsville).

A Season for Every Activity

The change in seasons has, once again, brought out the criminal element in Brownsville*.

In the past few weeks, our local convenience store was robbed, a man held police at bay for 10 hours after an altercation with his mother, firefighters came to a scene in the woods where 3 dogs were hung from trees with nearly 20 tires on fire below them, and 2 houses burned.

One of those homes is considered an arson case and was set fire in the middle of the night. Five children and their parents escaped the fire or were rescued and are doing well.

Take some time this week and pray for the peace and protection of our community and that justice is served.

*I'm reminded of last year when summer came and there was much suffering in the community. Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself. I also talked about "Tina" in this post. If you are connecting the dots. Tina's mom is "Holly" who I recently wrote about in Despair in Brownsville.

A Book by Its Cover

In a community like Brownsville, you see sin. I don’t mean the forces of evil embodied in darkness or a grotesque figure with a pitchfork. But certainly you see the manifestation or outcome of sin simply by driving through the town.

In a quick tour, you will see the greed of a landowner who has put hope on gambling windfalls and allowed over one hundred properties fall into ruins. You will see the neglect of a hundred homeowners who no longer care for their property. You will see the theft of siding stripped right off of homes. You will see a disregard for the environment in the trash spewed from car windows and make-shift dumps in creeks and riversides. You will see the marks of gangs or wannabe gangs on the side of abandon buildings.

If you compared Brownsville to a community like Peters Township, you would see new construction, businesses, manicured lawns, clean streets, large churches, nice cars and beautiful parks and facilities. The outward differences are stark. No wonder, when the per capita income is nearly three times higher in Peters than Brownsville and only 1.3% of families live below the poverty line (compared to 42.3% in Brownsville).

Sin is no less prevalent in Peter’s township. It’s better hidden.

It’s hidden by school administrators who are afraid of lawsuits, teachers who like popularity over moral conviction and parent’s who define right and wrong by the standard of their children’s behavior.

If a cell phone was confiscated in accordance with school policy, and that cell phone contained a video of a group of minors engaged in sex while adults were watching in the background, a disciplined investigation to identify and prosecute those involved is in order.

Child pornography, even if it exists on an expensive piece of technology owned by a popular student or prominent family, is still child pornography.

Sin takes on different forms in Brownsville and Peters. But it is the heart of man where sin begins and its pride, greed, lust and the usual lot that you will find there. While Brownsville’s sin is visible, there are those who will work for change. In Peters, the sin is well hidden and there those who will work to keep it that way… but it will be brought to light what is hidden in darkness and the motives of men’s hearts will be exposed. (1 Corinthians 4:5)

There are those in Brownsville who hold hope, who know right from wrong, who pursue good and desire justice. They fight for what is right. I hope there are at least a few in Peters Township that are of the same cloth.

For more on Peters Township High School or to contact their principal, Dr Thomas Hajzus. If you’re curious about their cell phone policy, see pages 53 and 54 of the Student-Parent Handbook.

Despair in Brownsville

Owning and managing a small business in Brownsville (our rental properties) is more ministry than business. That was by intent, but this shift manifested itself in ways that was never anticipated. I have encountered drug use, drug dealers, squatters, altercations, trespassers, thieves, and vandals. I’ve fixed furnaces, waded through sewage and cleaned toilets. I’ve lost my temper, lost sleep and shed tears… not over the physical damage, the unpredictable interruptions or the financial loss.

Helping folks with one of the most basic of necessities in their time of need puts you in a vulnerable position. Compassion breeds vulnerability. Vulnerability can be gut wrenching. There was no greater time of this gut wrenching experience when I went to visit “Holly.”

We decided to help Holly in her time of need. She was getting her feet back on the ground with a new job and wanted to provide a better life for herself and her young children. She knew she had to leave the environment she was in.

She moved in and was a model tenant for several months. Then her boyfriend was released from prison and moved in with his “extended family.” To put it bluntly, all hell broke loose.

I increased my visits to the property out of concern for the physical property, the safety of the tenants as well as the safety of my family. There were times when Holly was afraid… or ashamed to talk to me. Her boyfriend would beat her and she would wear the marks of those encounters for days.

This gut wrenching experience occurred on one of those visits. Holly came outside and closed the door to keep her children from hearing the conversation. She told me that she would be unable to pay this months rent. I told her we could work something out and asked if everything was OK. She said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I had to use my rent money to pay for an abortion.”

All I could say was “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know if you have ever felt or seen despair… the absolute absence of hope. I saw the depths of despair that day in a way I pray no one ever must see or experience. Holly was so helpless and hopeless in her relationships, her finances, and her future she could not comprehend a new child in that same despair.

But she knew it was wrong and she grieved. Hopelessness is not a covering for sin; it does not erase our moral being. For all the rhetoric about choice and life; there was no doubt that it was an unborn child that lived within her womb, not a choice.

I can tell you with certainty that a government that claims to serve the common good, and a politician that is a harbinger for hope and change must be the voice for the most helpless of our country… the unborn child.

I can tell you with certainty that a government and that claims to serve the common good, and a politician that is a harbinger for hope and change must serve the most hopeless and vulnerable of our nation… the poor, the elderly and the unwed.

I can tell you with absolutely certainty that abortion did not bear hope in Holly’s life or the life of her unborn child. It’s time for real change.

A Slow Tragedy

This morning was like most winter mornings in Brownsville: a cool winter air, overcast skies and quiet save the song of the birds. It was pleasant as I spent a few minutes outside with my dog and a cup of coffee.

Through the yard though, was a reminder of the events of last evening. Large pieces of ash were spread through the grass.

Around 11 last night, I heard a sharp popping sound from just outside. It sounded closer to a gunshot than a fire cracker and got my attention. It was the persistence of the fire whistles that got me off my feet. It sometimes seems daily when our volunteer fire departments are called to duty but this was clearly multiple alarms.

I looked from the back of the house and noticed the fire trucks coming from across the river; confirming more than one department was called. As I scanned to see where they were going, I noticed the smoke billowing over our neighbor’s house. Four doors down, the house was on fire. Here is an article about the fire.

Every neighbor was on the street, twenty firemen were on the call, multiple trucks, the police and anyone who saw or heard came to see. People spoke of the bravery of the fireman, their sense of duty, some cried at the loss of the property and the lives that were changed. Thank God that no one was home and no life was lost.

As I walked through the yard this morning, it struck me that you may never hear of a great tragedy in Brownsville. I hope that is true. But we are living a slow tragedy of lost possession, lost lives and lost hope. Last night, that loss was abrupt and with one family. More often it is eroded over a long time in many families. Brownsville is a slow tragedy.

It is not without hope. There are many who claim victory in Brownsville. Not because of any one effort, any single person, or any new initiative that will "change" Brownsville. Victory is claimed by those who love and obey God and run the agonizing race in this mission field we call Brownsville. Hope does not disappoint.

Romans 5: 3-5

A Constant Struggle

There are so many people in Brownsville that want to see our community succeed. Recently, a group of high school students participated in a program to highlight their plan to revive Brownsville. This past week, they and their sponsor made a video presentation to over 100 people at an event held by the Young Preservationists Association in Pittsburgh. It was reported that the presentation was “dynamite”.

The sad news is that when the teacher returned home from the event, her home was found ransacked and robbed. The State Police are investigating. Please do pray for all of those who struggle to make a difference in Brownsville. Too often, each step forward is met by two steps back.

Wheels of Justice, Part II

If you haven't read Wheels of Justice, Part I. Click this link.

Our justice system is truly elegant and something to admire. Our Founding Father’s deserve our gratitude and admiration.

The case of “Holly” versus the Commonwealth of PA was finally called to trial on Tuesday morning. I moved from the hallway to a magnificent and large courtroom. It was quite crowded with every potential juror waiting for their number to be called.

In Court Room One, the judge was navigating through the various trials, jury selections and verdicts for the day. His court room was efficient and impressive with just a hint of late night talk show charisma. I couldn’t help but enjoy the experience.

And then it was Show Time. Show Time has best been described as Law and Order meets Jerry Springer.

The defendant, her attorney, the arresting office and district attorney were all introduced and jury selection began. Seven jurors were replaced in the process by the defense or the DA. It was not announced who and why they were removed. I suspect because some were landlords (with bad tenant experience) and some were tenants (with bad landlord experience). Maybe some had their appliances stolen or a bad experience with an appliance repairman. Who knows what information these guys had on them?

As the victim, I was called to testify first. My role was pretty straight forward: establish that I owned the appliances and that they are no longer in my possession. The defense attorney jumped at me on two issues: (1) the lease doesn’t say I own the appliances and (2) I wasn’t even there when the tenant moved out.

The first point was almost true as the lease did reference the appliances. On the second point, these guys were being evicted by an armed constable… you bet I didn’t want to be there. It turned out they “moved out” in the middle of the night just before the constable showed up. Everyone but one of the ten or so folks that were now living there.

He made the point that I didn’t even know that guy’s name. Of course not! He was living there illegally and one (of the many) reasons why Holly was evicted. He was on house arrest and couldn’t leave the apartment as that is where he was plugged in. But somehow, this was all my fault.

There was also a witness who testified that she saw my appliances on a truck with the tenant’s possessions. Pretty straight forward? Not until the defendant claims that the only reason the witness is testifying against her is that she (the witness) had an affair with the victim’s boyfriend and she (the defendant) ended up with the man so she (the witness) is trying to get back at her. Must have been some boyfriend for the witness to spend two days (of her own time) at the court house, another day for the pre-trial hearing and all the dealings with the subpoenas and the DA’s office. .

The defense attorney provides closing arguments first. There are two things implanted in my memory…(a) he tells the jury that it doesn’t matter what he or the DA says, that they have to way the facts as presented by those on the stand and (b) he tells the jury that I (the victim) cannot recall any of the details of the eviction and when the appliances were missing. Here’s another lesson learned: attorney’s can lie, it’s up to the jury to remember what I said… he doesn’t have to tell them. In fact, he can apparently tell them something entirely different. Which he did in his closing argument.

So the jury heads off to the “room” for deliberation and we wait, once again, in the hallway. We’re called back one hour later. Somehow I wasn’t surprised when the jury acquitted her. The DA told me I could stay and ask the jury questions to gain an understanding of why they rendered the verdict. I didn’t have the patience or will to stay. It sounds like a cliché, and in the scheme of things I am out about $5,000 from this experience (appliances plus damages plus back rent), but you do feel victimized again. Perhaps, even worse, as your faith in a system you respect and in the common sense of your fellow man is called to question.

The judge was about to tell “Holly” she is free to go but the bailiff indicated that she is already in prison. I later learn that earlier this year that she lost her children to foster care and she and her boyfriend were both imprisoned… likely on drug or theft related charges.

Roach Clip

Tuesday night (after returning from the criminal trial) I get a call from a tenant. In a quiet whisper, he says “Mark there is something you should know.” Any call after dark from a tenant can’t be good, this one seemed ominous. Oh Lord, I thought, here we go.

“There are five guys walking around the building.”

They could only be there for two reasons: to steal something (either copper or my contractor’s equipment) or to find a place to smoke some dope. I thanked him, hung up and immediately dialed 911. Unfortunately, the borough police were not on duty. Of course they weren’t. The Chief of Police (our only fulltime officer) just spent the last two days (unpaid) with me as the arresting officer in the criminal hearing.

So I was transferred to the state police barracks. They took my information… five male juveniles, possible theft, drugs, location, etc…. but I learned that it would likely be 30 minutes before they would show up. Someone could do a lot of damage and take a lot of stuff in 30 minutes. So, on with the coat, I grabbed the mag flashlight, my cell phone, asked my wife to notify the Neighborhood Watch and ran out the door with the final words of the state police officer ringing in my mind… “don’t approach the suspects.”

That proved to be impossible. I walked up the back steps to the complex and as I hit the top step, five guys were staring right at me - separated by about 20 feet. Turn around or confront were my only options.

I shined the flashlight directly in their faces and found myself asking “Who are you?” “Jeff” replied a slight voice. Another voice jumps in, “Who are you?”

“Wrong question”, I respond, “What are you doing here?”

“We’re just trying to get out of the wind.” Likely true as it was cold and spitting snow and they were taking hits from a joint.

“Well, it’s a bad place to do that. You guys need to move along.” This was going to be easy or not and the police were still likely 15 minutes away. I was about to find out.

“Sorry, sir” was the response.

Three of the guys immediately left and two seemed to have lost something they were intent on finding. But they moved on in short order.

The state police did show up about 15-20 minutes later and found a roach clip and some butts, they took my information and that was that.

It reminded me of my first encounter with a young person in Brownsville. That one, unfortunately, didn’t go quite as well and involved a flying priest. But that’s another story.

Wheels of Justice, Part I

It’s pretty surreal. I’m sitting at the county court house waiting for a case to be called for which I am the victim. The noon o’clock hour marks three hours of sitting in a beautiful turn-of-the-century “hallway” in 1970’s office furniture with quite an eclectic group of people. Today’s date marks 1 year and 13 days of becoming victim of this crime.

The crime? Appliance Theft. In the scheme of things, this falls higher on the travesty scale than the tragedy scale. But still, I’m out $1000 and quite a bit of time in the eviction process, civil suits and now criminal hearings. Not to mention the concern over personal property, personal safety and everything else any landlord suffers through when their tenant turns on them.

Here’s the first lesson: never be a landlord. We are landlords for a higher calling and purpose; some folks must make money on this kind of thing. We don’t. I’ll have to explain that higher calling and purpose at some other time. This is the story of “Holly”.

Holly was in a tough spot. She and her three kids were living with her folks and “between jobs”. She wanted to get her feet back on the ground and focus on raising her children. She secured gainful employment and, in a serious streak of compassion, we thought we would be able to help her out. Here’s the second lesson: there is a line somewhere between being compassionate and being a doormat. You can get burned, but I’ll still err on the side of compassion. Jesus did.

I love giving folks a second chance, an opportunity to improve their situation and their lives. Certainly, you have to enter into such endeavors with both wisdom and prayer. You don’t just invite anyone into your house (have you ever seen The Lost Boys?). Holly had all of the makings of someone who was ready to turn her life around, she could have been and still could be a New Creation.

And she did quite well… for the first eight or nine months. Then, her boyfriend got out of jail. His existence and situation never came up in conversation. Holly immediately assumed her role as victim. It was sad to watch how someone could suffer such abuse. And even harder to see them call this love.

The situation became increasingly difficult and the environment became downright scary. The physical property suffered (damaged walls, broken doors, busted windows) but so did my reputation through their obnoxious, loud, illegal and illicit activities. This all started around the April timeframe but really hit stride in June when some 5-7 adults and 3 children were living in a two bedroom townhouse. At that point, I thought “she only has 6 weeks left on the lease, she’ll have to move out and I won’t need to go through a difficult eviction process.” All the while, trying to balance the safety of the property, my neighbors and my family.

Lesson Three: tenant’s have more rights than landlords…. “they ain’t gotta move out”. So began an arduous three-month eviction process that ended with over $4000 in damages including the theft of all the appliances in the townhouse. The only criminal activity in the whole lot of it that I had a chance of proving was the theft of the appliances. We decided to purse all of the civil and criminal action we could. I’ll post the outcomes at a later date.