Shoot the moon

Or the year. Shooting something, in any case. Mr. P and I watched a movie at home (Bride with the White Hair, because nothing says Happy New Year like a crazy Hong Kong kung fu movie) and then read til we fell asleep (because we are party animals like that). We had no real plans to ring in the new year. But then neither did our neighbors. Instead, as they do each year, the people of Richmond shot in the new year.

A premature ejaculator somewhere in the next subdivision woke us a little early, but we were definitely awake at midnight when people for miles in every direction emptied whatever firearm(s) they had into the air (one hopes). Someone on the street behind us emptied three different caliber weapons, one he was so excited about he reloaded and emptied it again. There were a couple of firecrackers thrown in for good measure, but the vast majority of the noisemaking was coming from guns. This happens here every year (and also happened the year I was living on a completely different side of Richmond before we got the house, so it is a pan-Richmond thing, not just our 'hood), although I tend to forget how bad it is until it's happening, at which point I start analyzing the safety aspects of our situation, coming to the conclusion each year that our chosen place for New Years-- asleep in bed-- is the best one, as the bed is lower than the window and any stray rounds would hit the side of the house, which is brick. Each year, Mr. P wakes up saying that New Year's here gives him flashbacks to Baghdad the night Saddam's sons were killed, as these two events are celebrated in similar ways. And each year the police are nowhere to be found (or perhaps they are outside the station, which is less than a mile from the house, shooting up in the air, yelling, "watch this one, Bobby!").

Now, living in New York during the denuement of the crack epidemic I heard my share of gunfire. And I heard it sometimes in Phnom Penh when I lived there. But, while in the individual instances it was surprising, it wasn't surprising, if you know what I mean. As in, not expecting it at that moment as opposed to not expecting it ever. But this is where we live:

This is our front yard looking out onto the street. This is the definition of suburbia. Ranch houses on large lots with trees in the yard and geraniums along the walkways in the spring. This is the kind of place one n-e-v-e-r expects to hear small arms fire.

But Richmond is special that way. This morning Mr. P and I discussed it, as we do each year, and he noted having recently seen a road sign in a built up area in Richmond  shot up. Something like this:

Except that this picture was taken in North Dakota on our roadtrip over the summer, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, in a state that only has about sixteen people living in it. Shooting up road signs, an activity that is, as Mr. P says, ignorant and potentially dangerous (though one assumes that in super flat ND you probably can see for quite a ways whether or not anyone is coming), is something I've only ever thought of as a rural activity. But in Richmond, it is practiced in town, exemplary of this place's special congruance of country and city ignorance, nestled neatly in the suburbs, where nothing says happy new year like twenty-seven live rounds shot into the sky while standing in the azaleas.

Happy bloody new year.

Comments

[Kevin Shea]

Way back in my younger days in Portsmouth, VA, I had a Kentucky long rifle (from a kit) that used black powder. On one or two New Year celebrations I brought it out (with parental permission and supervision) and fired off a few rounds, lots of BOOM! and pyrotechnics, sort of like a giant, hand-held firecracker...but without bullets, powder only. Because firing off bullets at random in an urban setting is just plain stupid.

The laws of gravity aren't suspended because its a celebration. Those rounds have to come down somewhere. Hey, maybe this is a good time to consider roofing shingles made out of Kevlar!

[Missives from the Birdcage]

"Because firing off bullets at random in an urban setting is just plain stupid.The laws of gravity aren't suspended because its a celebration."

WORD. Interestingly enough, Mr. P and I have had the gravity discussion two years in a row, this year included. While I'm feeling pretty safe from the side, I spent a bunch of time last night wondering exactly how fast those things fall from the sky and whether or not one might penetrate through the roof and attic and embed itself somewhere I'd rather it not embed, like a mini-meteor. This morning Mr. P told me the story of how, when the place he was living in Baghdad got too full they started "housing" troops in tents and tragic lessons about bullets being affected by gravity ensued.

[Carl Patten]

I have a cousin who also has a habit of shooting traffic signs during the New Year. He told me that the last celebration was the toughest because of one road sign that he encountered. All his bullets got wasted on one sign that just didn't fall apart. When he inspected it, he discovered that the sign was attached to the pole with stainless steel strapping. Apparently, one of the sturdiest materials manufacturers use for road signs is steel strapping. That's why my cousin had a hard time that day.