I once visited my neighbors, Jim and Lorie, who lived about a block away, to see their new baby girl. Jim never said much when we attended Cub Scout meetings for our sons. He knew I was a legal secretary and came out to speak with me about an episode in court. He was a deputy D.A. He told me that on Western Avenue near Sixth Street in Los Angeles, there is a cluster of immigrants from Haiti who practice voodoo. The case had something to do with a crime committed in that neighborhood. Pat asked the witness, a voodoo practitioner, if he had ever been on television. The witness said “Yes.” Jim smiled at me and said the witness discredited himself. He was obviously pleased at having thought to ask this question.
Jim was not holding the baby, but I knew that he often did, because he was gently swaying back and forth the way all parents do when holding a precious child.
July 5, 1996