In the fall of 1993, I was working third shift at a factory producing rubber products. When I came in for my shift, it was very quiet. I asked one of the ladies I worked with what was going on. She had been crying. She looked at me and said that Joey had been shot and killed in his front yard while watering his lawn, and the police had no suspects.
My heart turned to stone. It still does, just typing this now. I only knew him for months, but he was a sweet and gentle soul. It is now 2019, and his case is still open. On my cork note Board is his obit from the newspaper, dated 10-23-1993. I miss him still.
Violence has crossed my path before. In 1964, I had a part-time job at a carpet company. Next store was a small hamburger stand run by a Middle Eastern man. He would give me credit for my lunches until I got paid. A very nice man, who I liked to talk to. A person came in and robbed him, shot him because he was too slow giving him the money.