My friend Belle tells me a story about Melody Lakes. Stretching her thin, dark fingers out straight, looking down at a thick gold band she twists constantly when she’s ruminating, Belle confesses she’s never actually been there herself.

“Back when I was a little girl,” she remembers, “only white folks stayed out there. That’s why they built the place, you know.” But until now, I didn’t know. I lean forward, hungry for more, curious why anyone would choose to live in the area. Belle closes her eyes for a minute, opens her mouth and parts those bone-white teeth of hers to speak.

“The lakes used to be exclusive to white folks. They didn’t want us there. There used to be a gate just off Walnut Road.” I’m confused but remain silent. She goes on. “They met at that pizza joint. They ate pizza and drank beer and figured out ways to keep to themselves. No law. No police. No nothing but them. Good old boys and girls.”

As Belle speaks, I close my own eyes, imagining a place far different from the neighborhood where I’ve just settled in to buy my first home. I think of the five lakes nestled in and about the community. They do sparkle, light glinting on them from both sun and moon. There are at least a few fairly nice homes here and there. Belle tells me how back when she was a little girl, folks at Melody Lakes ruled their own crowded kingdom. They were separate, a community unto their own, and they liked and demanded it that way. Blacks weren’t welcome. Neither were Jews, poor white trash, or Mexicans. Melody Lakes was isolated by choice.

So what happened?

“Drugs. Their young’uns grew up, hating everybody that was different from them, and they did what folks do when all they do is hate. They try to hide the hate from themselves. They got to be known for being the druggin’ crowd. Mostly pot, but cocaine too, and lots of alcohol.”

I think of the place now. I don’t know many of my neighbors. Guess folks still want to keep to themselves. I don’t know about the drugs. I don’t do drugs, don’t smoke or drink. But I don’t care if they do, really. I wonder if Belle's right, if this place, birthed in bigotry, has simply sunk to its own inevitable low.

Regardless of why or how, I can't stop thinking it may not be too late to pull it out, make it work here, create some kind of reverse karma to right those old wrongs.

I think of Jesse. He’s a cute kid with a shock of black curly hair that’s always in his eyes, with ripped sneakers and a worn skateboard that goes everywhere he does. His real dad has hair down to his waist. His mom is tired. His stepdad yells a lot. Jesse drops by whenever he sees me out in the yard, asking if I want to see his latest skateboard moves. I usually do. I feel sorry for Jesse but I admire him too. He is optimistic. He thinks Melody Lakes is “cool”. He likes the freedom from cops. “You can stay out all night and nobody cares,” he brags, shrugging his shoulders in his faded t-shirt. “On the fourth of July, you can shoot Uzis. Police know better than to come out here.” It was from Jesse that I learned there is no leash law, because there is no animal control: “That’s why pit bulls run around all over this place, till somebody gets bit and then somebody shoots the dog.” I don’t know what is going on inside Jesse’s house, just down the road from mine, but I think there is a good guy inside this dirty kid, and I find myself hoping for a great life for him.

I think of this other kid, Danny. He kills baby birds in front of the younger kids for fun. He likes to see the little kids scream when he does it. He’s also into vampires. Sometimes he comes by with Jesse but he doesn’t talk much. Last week he had a purple eye. When he left, Jesse said it was from Danny’s dad. “They smoke pot together and his dad is usually pretty cool, but when he drinks, he gets real mean.”

My neighborhood.

There still aren’t any African-Americans. I haven’t seen any Mexicans and I wouldn’t know if there are any Jews. But there’s plenty of white trash, if that’s what you call Jesse and Danny. If that’s what you call me.

Life is funny, how it can turn on a dime. I’m a college graduate, a “good” girl. I didn’t quit work on purpose. I stopped after I got sick with a brain tumor. And then the savings went, followed by the disability. And now, even though I’m better, no one wants to hire me. I’ve been out too long - damaged goods. I’m broke, basically.

I wait for Jesse to come by so I can tell him my plan. It involves whitewashing. It involves hard work. Like picking up trash and cutting grass. It involves getting rid of graffiti and discarded metal parts. And an old blue recliner with a jammed footrest.

It’s Sunday - rainy and humid, but that doesn't stop the kids from following Jesse, Pan-like, into my scrubby yard. I've told them we will meet here today, stock up on plastic bags and head out into our neighborhood to pick up trash. I've also made them a promise, an offer they've been surprisingly receptive to: I've told them they will meet my sister, Lynda, and her husband, Dan, who want to start a Community Youth Club out here. I didn't expect much interest. These kids are rough, for the most part, and used to making their own entertainment. I think I supposed, wrongly, that a Youth Club would seem childish to them. Not so. They've shown up enthusiastically the last three Sundays, rarin' to go.

Lynda and Dan drive up minutes after the kids arrive. Lynda looks good - tanned, thinner than she's been in years, but she’s sad. She lost her daughter, my niece Nikki, several months ago in a horrific car accident. Nik and all three of the friends with her died immediately when their car collided with another vehicle. One girl, Lauren, was thrown out of the car. She had a broken neck. So did Nik, Bryan and April, but they were all three still strapped in their seat belts when their little Ford Focus burst into flames. Grief has hit us all hard, but none so much as Lynda. That's why she has the tan. That's why she's so thin. On Saturdays, she goes out on the boat with Dan now to help her forget how she used to spend most every Saturday morning: searching for good yard sales with Nik. Lynda and Dan used to have a Youth Club years ago; Nikki always the most enthusiastic member. They hope to spread some good energy out here in Melody Lakes. I think they also hope, perhaps, to do a little healing themselves while at the same time helping other kids feel a little better about themselves.

So they all gather. Lynda and Dan lean against their silver van, smiling. Lynda pulls out a camera. The kids love that. Everybody wants their picture taken, again and again. Jesse and his sister Taylor are first in line. Since Jesse was the first to meet me, he feels, naturally, that he should go first and we sort of agree, letting him.

I look out over my yard. The gardenia bush is in proud full bloom, sweet-smelling right by the sunflowers we planted just weeks ago. I need to cut the grass again. The bushes could use trimming. Everywhere I look, I see kids. Jesse and Taylor, Danny (the baby-bird killer), and Jay, a kid who's been hanging around for the last day or two. One of the neighborhood girls, Becky, is here with a friend I don't recognize. Becky is smiling today, which is a shock. She usually just looks bored. Five kids showed up that I don’t actually know yet. I look at Jesse. He is in full force today, laughing, pointing, proud of the fact that he's in charge of this clean-up crew. I walk over to him. "Okay, Jesse, tell me who everybody is...."

About the Author
Donna Reames Rich was a registered nurse for over 20 years before becoming a stay-at-home mom and writer. She was a staff writer for the LaGrange Daily News and a freelance columnist for the Harris County Journal. She has also been published in numerous regional publications.

In 2001, Donna received the Georgia Nurses Association's Media Award for her nine-part series on the nursing shortage.

Donna served as a missionary nurse in the Philippines where she cared for indigent clients in squatter villages and taught classes on hygiene and preventative medicine. She is a regular volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club and provides volunteer presentations of her workshop, "Creating Your Great! Life" to local middle and high schools.