An invocation

“My Blessed Lord and Father of Mankind!” That’s what my father used to say whenever he felt strongly about some particular issue.

When you heard these words resounding throughout the house, you knew something of extreme importance was about to be launched upon whatever ears might be within hearing distance. It was his way of invoking the Deity to listen to what he had to say and be sympathetic.

“My blessed Lord and father of mankind, Maise, when will those idiots (government) realize that not everybody in this province lives in St. John’s!” My father had an inbred dislike for anything remotely connected with St. John’s, especially government.

“My blessed Lord and father of mankind, Maise, do you realize that young varmint (me) doesn’t have the splits clove for tomorrow morning yet?” You get the idea. My blessed Lord and father of mankind, people! What in the world is going on in the Northeast Avalon, to be more specific the Greater Metropolitan Area of St. John’s?

The GMASJ would include: suburban areas such as Paradise; lockkey communities such as Goulds; Dannyville and Her Majesty’s Penitentiary.

What is going on?!

When I was in my early 20s, crime in the serious sense of that word, was virtually unknown in this province. I didn’t say it never happened, I said it was virtually unknown. That means almost unknown.

OK, let’s just say it wasn’t exactly common.

There was a time when we used to ask ourselves if there would ever be a murder in Newfoundland.

We asked it in the same sense as we wondered, “Will there ever be a paved highway across Newfoundland?” Or “Will there ever be a woman Pope?” Or “Does love conquer all?” Or “Should we get saved tomorrow night at the Salvation Army instead of checking out the young girls in the front row of pews?” Or “Will quantum physics lead us to an understanding of the universe and our ultimate destiny in it as human beings?”

These were the kinds of questions I and my friends used to ask each other while walking the roads at night following the female of our species. Yes. Right. The only one we felt we had the answer to was the first one, and the answer was a definite “No!”

Truth is, we were almost hoping for a homicide on the island. Everyone else on the mainland seemed to have one, sometimes more than one, in the space of a year.

What was wrong with us that we couldn’t manage one measly murder? We even talked lightly of doing one ourselves, just to put us on the map.

The only problem was that we couldn’t decide who to do in. It seemed a bit extreme, even for the school principal.

That sorry state of affairs seemed to remain static for a very long time until a scattered homicide satisfied us that we were not mutants.

But then came our veritable Big Bang which propelled Newfoundland and Labrador, and in particular the Northeast Avalon, into the current universe of blood, gore and royhem.

One of the 10 Commandments says something about the taking of human life, but I can’t remember which one by number. Another mentions the greed and covetousness that precludes such crimes, but I’m lost on that one, too.

Our evening news hours are almost akin to what we might hear coming out of Montréal or Toronto or Vancouver. My God, Vancouver! Perhaps not that bad, but it seems we’re getting there.

Every night there is news of another robbery of a convenience store or a gas station.

I have a cousin who owns a convenience store downtown and he’s been robbed more often than the local television news carries weather forecasts.

But now the criminal element has taken us to a new level of activity.

We can call it the Bonnie and Clyde era, or perhaps the more glamorous Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid syndrome.

Whatever, it seems that the boys have begun robbing banks.

If we had trains, no doubt they’d be holding them up somewhere on the Gaff Topsails — if they could find horses that could trot slow enough to catch them.

For me, the most obnoxious and cowardly crime of them all is home invasion.

The most daring and adventurous of our young men — and sometimes young women — will break into a house and force the woman living there alone to take them to an ATM machine.

Sometimes they will attack seniors, some of whom have difficulty defending themselves, and beat them up while searching for the $9 or so they have hidden away in their mattress.

Several of these home invasions have taken place outside the city In the big, bad outports

Nothing like a courageous criminal.

I can recall several incidents from the recent past where seniors, both men and women, have been attacked on the street in an effort to rob them.

I have an abiding interest in what happens to seniors. Many of my most faithful readers are in that category and I want to keep them.

So, you guys, stay vigilant and be cautious.

So now we come to the deadliest crime of all, the aforementioned act of taking another person’s life.

Can’t get much further away from “greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for another.” Yet we seem to have reached the big leagues here, too.

Thanks to increased prosperity, especially in our more urban areas, and the need to fund the addictions that come with it, we have arrived.

The so-called crimes of passion, the increased activity of gangs and the violence that accompanies them, are all playing their part.

We have been told that certain criminal activities in this province are now over the national average. It’s something we should be aware of.

But not anything to be proud of.