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John Morin stories
John Morin is a former Lansing resident who now lives in Holt.
Life on the east side
Over the years on Francis Avenue, we met a variety of people who moved into and out of the neighborhood. A red flag I never thought of was many of the houses were rentals. As I spent money and sweat, neither tenants or landlords spent much in improvements around the neighborhood. I was told one time that the City of Lansing would rather have rentals than home-ownership. Reason is that taxes are higher for rentals. Over the years I have done odd jobs for various landlords around Lansing. Most wanted patch jobs rather than invest to fix the problem. When that happened, I told the residents that they needed to report the problem to the city inspectors.
And there were many enjoyable times living on South Francis. We went on trips to NASCAR races each year. One race in state and one out of state. We went to Indy, Atlanta, Bristol the year they had snow ball fights on pit road. There were still odd occurrences, like the early afternoon while relaxing on the front porch, I hear someone yelling, "Drop the bag, put your hands up". All of the break ins and thefts, could they have captured a bad guy. I had to go see my taxes at work so I followed the voice to the end truck stall at the car wash, and sure enough, a uniformed LPD officer with his hand on his gun, directing the suspect to drop the bag. I was stunned to see it was one of the neighborhood homeless, and in his hand is a bag of bottles he had scrounged from the trash cans. Many of the homeless have done it over the years, and for the most part, they help keep the trash down so it isn't blowing down our street. I looked at the officer when I heard it was for going through the trash that he was against the wall. I suggested to the officer as a resident, I would feel better if he focused on catching the people robbing everyone in the neighborhood than a harmless homeless man. A small group of others spoke up also and the situation calmed down. He was allowed to leave with his bottles.
And we had the opportunity to do things that bring a smile to your face. I have over my lifetime found lost items of others. Purses, wallets, credit cards, even a few class rings. Sometimes it takes work to find the owner. Over twenty years in Lansing, three times I have found purses. When I first moved to Lansing, I worked two jobs, one was at McDonalds as a night shift closer. I often gave a friend a ride home, and on this night I stopped at Meijer for them. We went in at the end of the building, and sitting on a bench for the bus was a white purse. Later that night I went through the contents: about a hundred dollars and almost two hundred in food stamps. No ID, the only name was on a marriage license from the nineteen fifties, and an old rent receipt from an apartment complex near Meijer. The next day I took the purse to the management office where I worked, left it with staff there until I could call the apartment complex on the receipt. A few hours later I called and they verified they had that resident. A few hours later I was radioed back to the office to return the purse. A younger man came in the office area, seen the purse in my hand, asked me if everything was still in it, to which I said that there was money in it. He snatched it out of my hand and ran down the steps. The office staff had seen it and felt that the man had been rude. His reaction didn't bother me, it was that I knew an elderly lady would get her purse back, and she would have a smile on her face, just like I had.
The next find was on a rainy fall evening. I had just turned onto Kalamazoo from the Quality Dairy, and in the middle of the intersection I thought I had seen a wallet as headlights tracked over it. I was able to pull up and reach down: sure enough a woman's wallet. When I made it home, Sheri had dinner ready and I let her make the call and return the wallet. A few hours later, a young lady showed up and recovered her wallet, very grateful for getting it back. The third time I found a purse, it was while I was whacking down the weeds in the alleyway behind my house. I also did behind the neighbors when I found the purse. It appeared to have been there for a bit, but the contents gave us the information to find the owner. This time there was no money in the purse, but many pictures and personal information. Later that evening, a younger man came by to claim the purse. I had Sheri return it while I relaxed, listening to their conversation. The man was very grateful for the purse, and as he held it, he told Sheri a story. He and his wife had moved to Lansing a few years earlier and settled down. He worked, she cared for their child. She became friends with many of the neighbors, most who were good, hard-working people. But there were others not so good, and she became involved in drugs. The habit became so bad, she became so out of control, the last time he saw her was prostituting on Kalamazoo. By now his voice breaks a bit, that that was months ago and he worries for her and he has to be strong for his daughter.
I learned to lock my vehicle car doors when I left home. Going to work in the dark of morning, twice when I pulled up to the corner, before I could turn and out of nowhere, a female is sitting in my passenger seat saying "Hi". In my case, I just smile and say I live in the blue house, and they get out with a quickness. Sheri for years tried to drive the prostitutes out of our neighborhood. But as a cop said one day, the sidewalk is public property and they can walk up and down it all they want. One night it took everything I had to keep Sheri from going after a whore who thought standing in front of our house was the thing to do. Finally her pimp showed up, slapped her around, threw her in the van, and apologized as he pulled away.
Everyone got along in the neighborhood and tried to look out for one another. The house was about as good as I could get it. I put in horse shoe pits for summer afternoon enjoyment. Friends and family visited often. When the dollar store opened up on the corner, we met Frank and his sons Said and Simon. We would stop in often to buy something and usually chat for awhile. We only had one bad experience going there. Sheri had bought a bunch of balloons for a birthday party, and when she left, one wasn't tied properly and soon blew away. Sheri turned around and asked about if it could be replaced. Instead the clerk argued with her and told her to leave. Sheri came home and told me what happened, and knowing the people who run the store, I went to the store to ask what happened. I only got the chance to ask what happened and I too was told to leave and this time he had a can of sardines he threw in my direction as I left. The sardines ended up on the other side of Kalamazoo. I retrieved them and later ate them. Later that day, Frank and his two sons came and apologized for his other son, Edwar's, behavior. It would be years later that I would meet Edwar again, and this time my freedom was on the line.
I have met many police over the years and always tell them to stay safe. We need police to protect and serve; it is an honorable calling. But it comes with responsibility. You take an oath, and if you violate that oath, you need to be held accountable. The politicians need to be leaders in ensuring that Lansing residents truly are protected and served.
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