Even neighborhoods past the pearly gates might need a Block Captain

I thought about the Block Captain the other day, chuckling as I pushed my lawn mower past the harvester ant colony in my yard.

The Block Captain has since “gone on to glory” since he reigned supreme over my old neighborhood on the north side of Clovis.

I don’t know if every neighborhood has a Block Captain, someone who watches over the neighborhood to make sure everyone is acting right, and there are no shenanigans going on.

The Block Captain could often be seen sitting with his bride in front of his duplex, having a smoke and watching cars go by.

One time the Block Captain called to me across the street to have a chat.

It seems he wanted to vent about the police seeming to not care about littering.

“Young man driving by tossed a beer can right in my driveway, right in front of me while I’m sitting here. I called the police,” he said.

“Heck of a thing,” I said nodding my head up and down.

“I left the beer can there so they could gather evidence. So the cop shows up, I told him what happened, I pointed at the beer can. He looks at it, picks it up and just tosses it in his car,” the Block Captain said.

I nodded my head.

“‘Aren’t you going to gather that as evidence? Dust it for fingerprints?’ I yelled. He said, ‘Have a nice day sir,’ gets in his cruiser and drives away. DRIVES AWAY,” he said.

“Rampant crime,” I said.

We had outlaw chickens in our yard for some months back then.

For all the time we had the two hens, though, the Block Captain never said a word.

And then there’s the story of me, Block Captain and the harvester ant colony in our yard.

I was doing some yard work one summer day when the Block Captain moseyed across the street, cigarette dangling off his lip as smoke swirled around his head and a jug of ant poison in his hand.

Now you have to understand, I like harvester ants.

They’re big, impressive and go about minding their own business.

I have never been bitten by one.

“I brought you some poison to kill that ant hill of yours,” the Block Captain said.

“I like my little ant colony. I’m not interested in destroying it,” I said.

“Well, one of your ants was over on my property,” he said.

I burst out laughing.

“One of MY ants? How do you know it was one of my ants?”

“You’ve got the only harvester ant colony around here,” the Block Captain said.

I looked at the Block Captain, I looked at his home, probably a good 200 feet down the street.

“You know, if one of your ants bites me I could go into anaphylactic shock, have to go to the hospital, you’d be liable for my medical bills,” he said.

I stood and looked the Block Captain in the eyes for a few moments.

I smiled.

“Well amigo, let’s just cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, I’m leaving my harvester ants alone,” I said.

Not long after that the Block Captain moved away to another part of town.

And not too much later he “went on to glory.”

I suppose even the gold-paved neighborhoods of heaven need a Block Captain.

I don’t know if he went there but I hope for the best, even for the Block Captain.

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

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