Thursday, May 7, 2015

Slum Lord Millionaire


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Paradise Management In The South Bronx Of America

I saw light fall in shades of autumn gold as life support for “the better angels of our nature,” Abraham Lincoln wrote the last words like a whisper from the 18th Century.

I sat on a bench with a view of the Bronx County Courthouse and Yankee Stadium until it was moved into a new ballpark. I have to steal home base in a court of law.

I am as blank as this Win98 document I worked on to fill with history for whomever it may concern in the year 2015 and beyond. Two police officers saw me approach their squad car. One of the officers lowered the window and asked what’s wrong. Blood was violently coughed up into an oxygen mask as my life flashed by faster then the ambulance called by the police. Lincoln Hospital was the next stop in heavy traffic.

“If you interfere with a city investigation you will be arrested”, a city inspector warned a building manager who tried to talk me out of having my mother’s apartment examined for violations. He left with several other employees of Paradise Management. Two days later, my mother’s mailbox and others were vandalized as if by explosives.

I used a friend’s cell phone to take pictures and filed reports for criminal mischief and lost property at the Longwood Police Precinct just four blocks away from home.

There’s something going on, I was told by our United States Mail Carrier who told the superintendent to give my mother one of the mailboxes that was functional. Response from management was to have the superintendent rip out the damaged row of mailboxes and plaster hole while broken lobby door went without repair for days.

Our mail service was disrupted. Expect delays or no delivery of Healthcare notifications such as Medicare renewal forms, etc, etc and etc. These are the keys to the mailbox and apartment on the other side of the building they want your mother to move into, said the superintendent with a grin

They wanted us to move in without a lease that wasn’t ready I was told.  Don’t know what to do but I’m doing it. Like a Rubik’s Cube, I have to try to establish a pattern of harassment. I’m shaken up like the poor people in Nepal evicted by earthquake.

I sighed, got up from a park bench and walked miles to keep from homelessness while my mother prays like for help from God. She makes me think of Anne Frank in the attic. I saw a sign. I saw a wanted poster on a former tenant for criminal contempt of court.

I saw heavily armed police in the courtyard. They were looking for a person of interest on the other of the building. He turned out to be an employee of Paradise Management.

I suppose, like Jesus believed, we ought to give people a second lease at life

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