This morning, as my wife and I waited to cross Mississippi at University Avenue in North Park, we heard arguing and shouting. We both turned back to see some kind of disagreement between a man and woman near the distant bus stop on the opposite side of the street.
The dude looked to be stealing, or trying to steal, the lady’s bicycle. Shirtless, he was clearly homeless; she was well-dressed. Taller than her, he was racially white but so sunburned to be almost black; dirty, my guess, too. We weren’t sure what to do, being older folks, but we decided to walk down the block nevertheless. She needed help.
Just then, a rugged man leaned out his car window and asked what was going on. I told him what we thought, and his face flushed with recognition and anger. He hunched over the steering wheel, looking for opportunity to turn around. But the stoplight switched to green, and he was blocked. He drove off.
By the time we were halfway down the block, the two people had moved further away. They struggled at Alabama and University, where she lost the battle. He climbed onto the bicycle and rode off. She stomped up the street, revealing what we hadn’t seen before: Personal belongings strewn along the sidewalk at and beyond the bus stop.
As she picked up her personals and stuffed them into a bag, I surveyed surroundings more closely. Construction workers were all around. Young, fit men. I started toward one to ask him what happened. He waved me off. He didn’t want to get involved. Plenty of able-bodied bystanders could have gone to the woman’s rescue. No one tried.
We couldn’t move fast enough, and I am not confident about being strong enough to take on the homeless thief. But maybe our involvement would have motivated others to step in. We took too long trying to understand the circumstances before turning back, and the robber prevailed too quickly.
The incident is demonstrative and by no means atypical. San Diego’s character has changed much since we relocated nearly 17 years ago. The most notable collapses in civility and community started around 2020 and tracks an exponential curve.
The city’s motto is Semper Vigilans—Latin for “ever vigilant”. That’s not true in 2024. I suggest appropriate replacement: Numquam Vigilans: “never vigilant” or “never watching”.
Let’s discuss the Featured Image, which I captured on Jan. 29, 2024, using Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. The view beyond the parking lot is Mississippi and University looking in the direction of the bus stop, which is obscured. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 50, 1/2400 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 10:39 a.m. PST.