Gangs? What Gangs? I don’t see any gangs.

      When I inform people that I live in Huntington Station they often  have some kind of derogatory  comment  such as “ Are there, like, bullets flying all over the place?” or “How can you stand it with all those gangs?” I try to tell them I have never seen any violence or gangs and that my backyard is the most peaceful, idyllic place any suburbanite could hope for. Nobody believes me.
      I have heard that we have MS 13, Crips and SWP in the Station, but  I haven’t seen anyone going around in bandanas or trademark  colors like they do on T.V. cop shows.  Apparently, their existence must be a fact as there was some kind of local/federal task force that rounded up dozens of them over a year ago. This task force was so successful that in true bureaucratic fashion,  it was eliminated.
      About five years ago some person or persons spray painted MS 13 symbols all over our street, including some cars. We quickly painted over their work after taking pictures and calling the police. The officer said “ It’s not gangs, it’s just kids acting like gang members.” I did not know what to believe as  I have read most gang members are initiated in their mid-teens, which would certainly qualify them as “kids.”
      Maybe I do not see any gangs because all I truly believe about them is what I have seen in movies: Usually there is a tall kid, a short one, a fat one, maybe one with tuberculosis and possibly a kid brother who is  too little to join.  Sometimes there is a girl who is deluded enough to think she will be allowed to  join as other than “property”.  There is always a charismatic  ( but possibly morally  conflicted)  leader. And  then there is  the guy challenging him for the spot.
      But the main constant with these movie gangs is that they all hang out together, usually in a basement hideaway as in “Angels with Dirty Faces”, or even  “ Going My Way”.  In “West Side Story “, the Jets  appeared to have taken over an alley.  Later they would dance all over the city trying to expand their turf or mark their territory. Perhaps I will never truly believe  gangs  exist in my neighborhood  until I see them singing  “Gee, Officer Krupke” in the parking lot of the 7-11.
      The larger issue, of course, is the terrible perception people have about life in the Station. When the new supermarket opened on N.Y. Ave and 21st , Newsday reported that we Station residents had not had too much to be happy about since we had recently had a difficult summer with some shootings , but that now, with the new store, we had reason to hope. Yes, readily available canned goods and produce can cure most ills for the likes of us in the ‘hood.
      The worst criminal act that occurred at my house ( other than the carefully engineered economic collapse that destroyed our 401K and benefited the banking industry), was when a weed wacker was “liberated” from our tool shed. We survived this and are  bravely living on to face the future, however wacker-less it may be.  So don’t cry for us, Newsday, or anyone else.  We like it here in the Station, or as I like to call it: “ Funkytown”.