Member-only story
You Can Be Poor, or You Can Be Old -But Whatever You Do, Don’t Be Both
It’s A Frightening, Sad Mess, and Nobody Wants to Go Out That Way
Every morning and afternoon when I would walk my dogs the two blocks from my house to the sprawling park to go for a romp in the grass, I would pass by a tidy brick rowhome with an adorable sign on the front door that was slightly open, with just the storm door keeping the cold from getting in. It read: “Please give me time to come to the door.” I thought it both cute, and a little dangerous, given that I live in Baltimore, not the safest city in America. But inside, a few feet away, seated on the couch was a sweet little lady named Miss Debbie.
If summoned, Miss Debbie would rise from her couch, gingerly, and come to the door, which was already ajar, and greet visitors to have a brief chat.
In warmer weather, Miss Debbie could be found sitting on the stoop, as all good Baltimoreans do. She would wave at passersby, known and unknown, with an impish smile, frequently calling out, “Hey, baby, how you?”
I took to stopping by with my two dogs, both small chihuahua mixes, to say hello more close-up and to get to know her. Her smile and demeanor were infectious, and she was just the kind of lady that everyone in the neighborhood seemed to already know. I was new to the neighborhood and…
