Summer of Goldilocks

Summer of '69: I was playing little league for the Arcadia Raiders. I was not very good and I was small for my age. So of course I played right field. Fortunately this was the era before overly competitive parents took over children's sports and ruined the fun for generations to come.

I digress.

The point of the story really has no relation to little league whatsoever. I bring it up only because the events of this piece happened when I rode my bike home from practice.

My mother was divorced and we lived on Mountain Avenue, which was a relatively quiet street in Duarte, California. So imagine the surprise in my ten-year-old mind when I rounded the corner and found our house surrounded by Sheriff Cars. One of the neighbors was waiting for me and took me into their house all the while explaining that my family was okay and that my mother would explain later.

It took several hours but my mother finally came over to pick me up. She was visibly shaken but appeared to be just fine.

What had happened was not horrible in nature but bizarre. Apparently a woman had escaped from mental hospital located somewhere in Southern California. After several days or weeks wondering the streets she found her way to our little neighborhood.

For whatever reason upon seeing our little white house she decided to move in. And move in she did. She fixed herself a meal. She stripped down and took a long bubble bath in my mother's bathroom. Naked she climbed into bed and fell asleep which was where my mother found her.

A regular Goldilocks she was.

The responding deputy was unable to reason with her. She cussed him out and swore up and down that it was her house and that he was trespassing. Negotiations actually took several hours but they were finally able to convince her to leave peacefully and we were able to return to our home.

However the consequences of that day were far reaching. In a neighborhood where my mother always felt safe enough to leave our house unlocked she began locking the doors. Within a year of the incident she sold our house and we moved to a new neighborhood.