Patty and Me
I’ve often thought and written about the inherent differences between big cities and small town USA. I find the differences fascinating and the reasoning people use when deciding to live in one or the other equally as interesting. I’ve often taken the stance that the liveliness and camaraderie of a city is difficult to beat, especially as a single person. I’ve wondered why people would leave the culture and variety of city life and willingly place themselves in rural America. This past weekend opened my eyes to one of the downsides to living in Urban USA.
I often go to Denver on weekends to enjoy the lively social life (and affordable golf) of the city. I worked a deal with a friend where I could stay in the spare room of a duplex house in which he is living while the owner is overseas. It’s really a perfect situation for me for I can enjoy the benefits of the city and mountains at the same time. Though my perfection complex may be slightly at play here, I undoubtedly enjoy the flexibility a place in Denver provides.
On Saturday night I arrived back at the “crash pad” after attending a barbeque in the city. While expecting to find a place exactly as I left it, I arrived at a ransacked apartment. My laptop was taken along with an overnight bag and a cool shirt I just bought (ok, it was pink, so maybe they did me a favor). However, the burglars were kind enough to leave the biography of Ben Franklin. Apparently, history of Colonial America icons was of little interest to them. I’m sure the Avon library is thankful of this.
While violent crime is statistically low in Denver, break-ins are quite common. I’m certainly not saying that crime is non-existent in smaller towns in this country, but it is undoubtedly more common in larger metropolitan areas.
If you’ve never been burgled, I have to tell you that the overwhelming feeling is unexplainable (or is it inexplicable?). Regardless of the proper adjective, I cannot begin to describe the feeling of violation and panic associated with this discovery. After the initial shock of the situation died down my thoughts turned toward recreating the event and I soon began feeling sorry for the poor son of a bitch/sons of bitches that jacked our stuff. As I looked at the clothes, boxes and pictures strewn about the apartment I felt the nervousness and nearly debilitating anxiety the burgler(s) felt as they rushed through their amateur operation searching frantically for valuables. I saw them tossing boxes off shelves and throwing any potential valuables in my bag I used so many times for weekend trips. I thought about their constant worry of someone returning home while their crime was being performed. I could never put myself under the kind of stress that this particular petty thief put upon himself/herself. (Honestly, it had to be a he, chicks don’t do this kind of stuff; they have too much empathy).
The police put immediate blame on Mexican Nationals. This was obviously overly presumptuous, but when you deal with this stuff every day, I suppose it is easy to stereotype. I thought about what it would be like being a possibly illegal immigrant doing virtual slave labor for less than minimum wage. Their less fortunate situation may liberate their mind thus allowing them to justify the burglary of some unassuming white guys in Denver. I can’t really blame them. They certainly feel like they’re getting the short end of the stick and a little shakedown of some “overly privileged” folks is not too disturbing to them. I think I am suffering from a very small case of an amazing psychological phenomenon where victims of crimes (typically abductions) begin to empathize with their new acquaintance(s).
This phenomenon is referred to as the Stockholm Syndrome coined after a prison escapee took hostages while robbing a Stockholm bank. The hostages bonded strongly with their captor and later criticized their rescuers. The most famous occurrence of the Stockholm Syndrome was when a millionaire’s daughter Patty Hearst was abducted and assaulted by a group called the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA). Young Patty was later photographed with an assault rifle while aiding the SLA during a bank robbery. Patty later confessed that the abduction and assaults amazingly contributed to her alliance to the cause of the SLA.
While Patty Hearst is among the most extreme of examples of the Stockholm Syndrome, the phenomenon occurs regularly in the behavior of battered women that display strange loyalty toward their abusive partners. They often feel grateful that their abuser is sparing their life rather than angry for being abused. What a weird deal.
Perhaps Patty Hearst and I have less in common than I am leading one to believe, but empathy was the last emotion I was expecting to feel during my moments of post burglary.
Whether I was suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome or not, I’m sure as hell no longer going to leave a fan propping up the window of my bedroom - especially in urban America.
Give John Poole some sympathy at poolejohn@gmail.com
I often go to Denver on weekends to enjoy the lively social life (and affordable golf) of the city. I worked a deal with a friend where I could stay in the spare room of a duplex house in which he is living while the owner is overseas. It’s really a perfect situation for me for I can enjoy the benefits of the city and mountains at the same time. Though my perfection complex may be slightly at play here, I undoubtedly enjoy the flexibility a place in Denver provides.
On Saturday night I arrived back at the “crash pad” after attending a barbeque in the city. While expecting to find a place exactly as I left it, I arrived at a ransacked apartment. My laptop was taken along with an overnight bag and a cool shirt I just bought (ok, it was pink, so maybe they did me a favor). However, the burglars were kind enough to leave the biography of Ben Franklin. Apparently, history of Colonial America icons was of little interest to them. I’m sure the Avon library is thankful of this.
While violent crime is statistically low in Denver, break-ins are quite common. I’m certainly not saying that crime is non-existent in smaller towns in this country, but it is undoubtedly more common in larger metropolitan areas.
If you’ve never been burgled, I have to tell you that the overwhelming feeling is unexplainable (or is it inexplicable?). Regardless of the proper adjective, I cannot begin to describe the feeling of violation and panic associated with this discovery. After the initial shock of the situation died down my thoughts turned toward recreating the event and I soon began feeling sorry for the poor son of a bitch/sons of bitches that jacked our stuff. As I looked at the clothes, boxes and pictures strewn about the apartment I felt the nervousness and nearly debilitating anxiety the burgler(s) felt as they rushed through their amateur operation searching frantically for valuables. I saw them tossing boxes off shelves and throwing any potential valuables in my bag I used so many times for weekend trips. I thought about their constant worry of someone returning home while their crime was being performed. I could never put myself under the kind of stress that this particular petty thief put upon himself/herself. (Honestly, it had to be a he, chicks don’t do this kind of stuff; they have too much empathy).
The police put immediate blame on Mexican Nationals. This was obviously overly presumptuous, but when you deal with this stuff every day, I suppose it is easy to stereotype. I thought about what it would be like being a possibly illegal immigrant doing virtual slave labor for less than minimum wage. Their less fortunate situation may liberate their mind thus allowing them to justify the burglary of some unassuming white guys in Denver. I can’t really blame them. They certainly feel like they’re getting the short end of the stick and a little shakedown of some “overly privileged” folks is not too disturbing to them. I think I am suffering from a very small case of an amazing psychological phenomenon where victims of crimes (typically abductions) begin to empathize with their new acquaintance(s).
This phenomenon is referred to as the Stockholm Syndrome coined after a prison escapee took hostages while robbing a Stockholm bank. The hostages bonded strongly with their captor and later criticized their rescuers. The most famous occurrence of the Stockholm Syndrome was when a millionaire’s daughter Patty Hearst was abducted and assaulted by a group called the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA). Young Patty was later photographed with an assault rifle while aiding the SLA during a bank robbery. Patty later confessed that the abduction and assaults amazingly contributed to her alliance to the cause of the SLA.
While Patty Hearst is among the most extreme of examples of the Stockholm Syndrome, the phenomenon occurs regularly in the behavior of battered women that display strange loyalty toward their abusive partners. They often feel grateful that their abuser is sparing their life rather than angry for being abused. What a weird deal.
Perhaps Patty Hearst and I have less in common than I am leading one to believe, but empathy was the last emotion I was expecting to feel during my moments of post burglary.
Whether I was suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome or not, I’m sure as hell no longer going to leave a fan propping up the window of my bedroom - especially in urban America.
Give John Poole some sympathy at poolejohn@gmail.com
posted by John Poole at 9:23 PM
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