Sunday, March 13, 2011

An Open Letter

Dear Mr. Drug Dealer,

Thank you for taking the time to read this small note.  I just wanted to let you know that I saw what you did last night, and I told on you.  I want you to know that this is not personal.  In fact, I am not even mad at you for coming into my neighborhood in order to make a living.  You seemed nice enough, and the people creating the demand for your services are the ones that really need our focus.

I just want you to understand one small thing: never get near my son.  You see, If I had been walking alone last night, I wouldn't have said anything to the friendly police officer that was happy to get your information from me, but I had company.  In an effort to tire an energetic three year old, my child and I went for an evening walk and enjoyed the ending of a beautiful day.  I cannot describe to you how important my son is to me, so when I saw you slip that small plastic bag into the hands of the brunette in the tan jacket right before she gave you a roll of cash, I wanted to hurt you.  I didn't, but you should know that it isn't wise to push me any further.  Without realizing your error of exposing my son to unfathomable risks, you strolled back to your burgundy SUV and drove away.  You may have forgotten these trivial moments, but I never will.

I consider myself person with liberal philosophies, so I don't criticize your career choice or what you may do in your free-time.  In fact, I wish that the government would recognize the futility of their "war on drugs" and spend a bit more money on education and rehabilitation for people who suffer with addiction.  The drug laws in this country clearly have a racial bias, and our penal system reflects the complete disparity occurring among the people that are in the most need of help.  I have no problem with rational adults choosing to spend their money with you.  You can sell from your apartment all you want.  My problem is that you exposed my child to a world that he is not ready to comprehend.  The dangers of your profession hurt the innocent more than the guilty, and I do not welcome you back into this neighborhood.  I am not happy with your customer either, I will talk with her when our paths cross, for she is the one who invited you here.  She isn't a good friend; you could do better.

Feel free to come by on your day off if you would like to see the campus or even grab a Jumbo Slice, but you do not want to sell your products on these streets anymore.

Thank you,
A Protective 6'2" 300lb Dad Who Will Not Give You a Second Chance