A Battle of the Arts with a Local Youth

My art? Creation.

Their art? Destruction.

Let me explain:

When we moved into the Professor Haus, we noticed that we also inherited a bus stop. A bus stop where parents were waiting in questionable weather, sometimes with a baby on their hips. So what did we do? We built a bench!

For two or so years, this went brilliantly. Mickey and I delighted in seeing folks using the bench, and occasionally they would leave a rogue flower for us. At least, that’s the story I told myself whenever a flower ended up on the bench!

Then, things started going downhill.

Incident #1: General Trash and Rudeness

At the beginning of the school year, we noticed a few patterns:

• more people
• more trash

Look, we live on a pretty busy road, so I am not surprised by the trash. We get a bunch of it in the yard, and some of it even inspires blog posts. This was different, though, concentrated on the bench area, and a repeat of juice boxes and chip bags.

Not just random things thrown out of the window of a moving car.

So, I started watching the bench a bit to see if I could notice a pattern at all.

I didn’t notice a trash pattern, but I did notice something more concerning. Whenever a certain family would show up at the bus stop, a mom with a baby would get up from the bench so that they could sit down. Then, the mom and most of the other bus stop waiters would move away from the bench.

Not the vibe I want for my friendly neighborhood yard bench, you know?

Then, one night, we were doing a walkabout and noticed so many rocks kicked into the street. See? The other weekend, we stamped down the earth beneath the bench, put down some bricks and a little concrete plaque that read “Melvindale 1995,” and then poured some tiny rocks in the tiny slots between them all.

The bulk of them were in the street. Bus stop feet swingin’ and kickin’ was my best guess.

So, we got the rakes and noisily raked them offa the street and back under the bench area.

That didn’t solve the problem of the mom with a baby on her hip with no place to sit while she waited for the bus, though, did it?

Solution #1:

So, we built a second bench and put it right underneath this lovely tree on the corner. It’s a little way away from the original bench, but still near enough to get to the bus easily.

For a few weeks, that worked. The Takeover Family (that is what I’m calling the folks that commandeered the original bench) started using the new bench, leaving the original one for the other families.

All seemed well in Professor Haus Bench World until…

Incident #2: Broken Groundhog Spike

Okay, so behind bench two there are a few things: A lovely tree, some bushes, and a hole that a (very cute) Groundhog uses as part of its Professor Haus Tunnel system.

Look, we live on a river. We know there is gonna be wildlife. However, we would like to make sure that the wildlife is happening in such a way that our property doesn’t get damaged. So, some of the entrances to the tunnel system have been filled in, and we ‘ve placed an ultrasonic ground spike that deters the tiny animals but does not harm them. I mean, aside from them being like, “wtf is this annoying ear-splitting sound?” and then scurrying away.

One has been placed at the entry point behind Bench 2.

Welp, one day Mickey and I were pulling into the driveway while some youths were waiting for another sibling’s bus to arrive. Two youths stood smack in the middle of our driveway while we waited to turn in. They looked sheepish, like they would get into trouble for something.

Eventually, they got out of our way, but not before giving us a dirty look first. Fine, whatever. Kids who get in trouble all the time only see other adults as authority figures, so I wasn’t too bent out of shape about that.

Then the next day, I walked to ceramics class. On the way home, turning into the driveway, I noticed some plastic detritus on the ground. It was black and green and felt familiar, so I picked it up.

It was the remains of a Groundhog Spike. Right where those two youths were standing. Also, I did a walkabout to see which one could have been harmed. (even though I was pretty sure I knew already)

It was the one behind the second bench. Completely gone, only the bits of plastic in the driveway left as a reminder.

I thought about what to do here for a long time (actually, less than 24 hours). Here’s where I landed.

Solution #2

This wasn’t so much a solution as an action. The next day, when the kids were walking home from the bus stop, I went out into the yard with a new groundhog spike, a rubber mallet, and a smile on my face.

Why a smile? Well, I know that people only know what they know. And for these kids, maybe the only adults they know are angry or sad, so that’s what they expect from all adults. These kids obviously want some sort of attention; that’s why they act out. So, instead of giving them the angry, sad, loud, or mad attention that they expect, why not show that adults can be nice, calm, and understanding?

I remember what it was like to be a kid. If I ever lose that feeling, you can start digging, y’all. I will hold onto my childlike wonder until the end of my days.

I happily swung my arms as I passed the youth, made eye contact, and smiled and nodded. Then I installed the new spike right back where the old one was.

Incident #3: Broken Flowers

That evening, on our walk around, I saw that almost all of my cosmos had been beheaded and tossed to the ground. Some of them even looked as if they’d been ground into the concrete with the toe of a shoe.

Not the life I wanted them to lead, you know?

Solution #3

I sliced a flap of cardboard offa a delivery box, grabbed an industrial-strength marker, and got to work.

Now, my initial plan was simple to create a sign. To make myself feel better, like I had some sort of control. I didn’t plan to tell anyone else about it or even put it out.

But the next morning, I brought it and my fancy camera along with me on my walkabout. When we reached the bench, I nestled the cardboard sign in the cosmos and snapped some pics. I liked the way looking down at it made me feel, so I left it.

I considered picking it up before bus stop time, because I am extremely non-confrontational to a ridiculous degree. But I didn’t! I left it. It’s still there, over a week later, actually. I still like the way it makes me feel.

Incident #4: Another Groundhog Spike Broken

The good news? My flowers remained untouched.

The bad news? The replacement groundhog spike was busted.

However, this time, it wasn’t irreparably busted. It almost looked like it was taken apart with curiosity to see how it worked. The spike was separated from the flat solar-paneled top, and the beepy innards were spilling out of the spike.

Solution #4

I let my inner artist take over again and made another sign. This time, I channeled the fellas of Please Don’t Destroy and made some digital art. Then I used my favorite new tool and laminated it. It gets rainy here sometimes, after all, and I didn’t know how long this battle of the arts would be going on!

I replaced the broken groundhog spike, but left the broken one on site, gently placing the “Please Don’t Destroy” sign atop it.

Update #4

The broken spike was fixed. Nothing else was destroyed. No more flowers have been picked. Things have been calm in Bench Land. I was so excited about this development that I neglected to take a picture. Oops. We moved the repaired spike to a different location in the yard, and everything has been hunky dory ever since.

Coda: Bubbles

The other day, I was working in my office later than normal and saw the original group of kids (sans mom with baby today) on the original bus stop bench. They were energetic and rambunctious, playing in the yard, in the driveway, and on the bench.

This was all fine with me until two of them started actually climbing on the bench. I did not want them to get hurt, so I walked outside to talk to them.

“‘Oh, hey,” I said, “It’s cool that y’all are waiting here and playing for your sibling’s bus, but please don’t climb on the bench. It is not built for that.”

“I told them that!” one of the older youths exclaimed with a look of both panic and relief on their face.

“We’re just waiting for our brother,” said one of the climby ones.

“That’s fine! You can totally wait here. That’s why we put the bench there.” I replied to both of them, “Just please don’t climb, okay?”

They said okay and went back to whatever other games they were playing. I watched them from my window as I continued to work, trying to create storylines that might match their movements. There was definitely some battle between good and evil going on; I could tell that much.

Then, I remembered that I was Bubbles Rich because of the recent Slumber Party (don’t worry, part 2 is coming soon)

So I grabbed some small bubble tubes (with wands in the lids!) and went back out to the bench bunch.

“Do y’all want some bubbles? I have so many bubbles for some reason!”

Their faces lit up, and I handed them each a tube of joy, along with extras for their siblings.

Every other time I spied them out my window, they were blowing bubbles. This activity continued on their walk home as well.