THE GREAT JEWEL HEIST OF THE WOODLANDS TEXAS AND OTHER TRAUMAS

Not all of my memories from our time in Texas were of laughter and peace and tiptoeing thru the tulips. It’s just that JimboRed, in his fading light, mostly remembers the good times. However, this post is written about a very difficult event for us, something we had never been exposed to. I write it down, not necessarily because I want to remember it, but more so, because it reminds me of other good times in our lives. Most of this post is written from Deysi’s recollections, interspersed with some pieces I recall. By now, we were well settled into the Woodlands, Texas. Deysi, as usual was leading us. By and large, we were comfortable in our new area. And as usual, like any other big event in our lives, I was travelling somewhere.

The Woodlands was a city of about 100,000 people, approximately 18 miles north of the city of Houston. It was an affluent community, with most people commuting to the big city each day. Living around us were the type of people, that wanted to leave the big city behind at night. Ange was in grade 12, and Ron was in Edinburg at University. As always I was travelling to some foreign location, and gone for a few days. That meant Deysi had lots of free time to explore her community. Up to this point, we found it a very safe and peaceful place to live. Until……

One day Ange was in school, and Deysi was waiting for her to come home. She was using our company car, and was flitting around, doing chores and shopping. It was early afternoon when she decided to pop into the local car wash and give our vehicle a clean. I was at work and no where near the vicinity. Not even in the country, I believe. Without question, this was good and bad. Had I been there I would have probably had our car at work. And that maybe, would prevented Deysi from being in that exact time and place. At the same time, I most assuredly would have been to blame for what happened to her, if it happened while I was home.

Deysi, pulls in, to the car wash. proceeds to pop the doors open, and then grabs the vacuum. Soon, she is busily cleaning the back seat. The noise is as if a Jet were flying low, overhead. Deysi is completely immersed in her job, and at peace with the world. Finished in the back, she drags the hose around to the front seats. She pitches her purse into the back and starts to clean the front. When she finishes, she notices, that her purse is not in its usual area, on the back seat. She quickly searches the car. Then she “thoroughly“ searches the car. Panic is starting to set in. The feeling that comes with the realization of what had happened, is one of being violated.

She is now in tears. Looking around Deysi spots a pair of young men (say early 20’s). She asks, one of them, if he has seen anyone near her car. He says, “no, but if you go inside they have a camera and can tell you if anyone was in your car!” Deysi, now in a state of full panic, goes inside the carwash office. Of course, there is no camera, or (if there was) it was not functioning. Now she goes back out to find the young guy that appeared to try and help her. Of course he was gone, along with the other person, waiting for him. Deysi’s purse and all her belongings were gone with them. She is devastated.

She then calls me to ask what to do. Of course I am a big help, and launch into a round of cursing. She immediately calls the cops, who are about as helpful, as if she would have called her cat. Their response is, “happens all the time, we have very little success in ever catching one!” Well I suppose that is very true, unless the thief stopped by the Starbucks and confessed his crime. The cop then adds, “best call your insurance company!” He takes a few personal details from her and then with an “adios”, and another case closed, he vanishes into the afternoon.

Now those of you that know Deysi, know this is one tough Peruvian. But this one event transformed her peaceful life into one of worry, sadness, some anger and a lot of disillusionment towards her fellow man. I believe we figured out what had happened. While she was in the front of her vehicle vacuuming, the little “rat bastard” snuck up to her back seat and quietly removed her purse. He probably gave it to his partner, waiting in the truck in the next stall. When he was spotted by Deysi and asked about anyone around her car, he distracted her with the camera story. Once she went inside, him and his evil companion vamoosed.

Of course I am away and no help at all. Desyi is nearly catatonic with grief. She has lost a small amount of money, all of her credit cards, her personal items (I don’t know what all women carry), and a smaller purse containing some of her jewelry and many of her special rings. We had been together for more than twenty years at this point, and had travelled to see the sights in many places. In each place we made it a special memory, by buying her a ring with a stone from the area we were in. For example an Opal from New Zealand, a Ruby from Paris, an Emerald from Italy, a Diamond from Africa, the Fire Opal in Australia, and many others.They were not real expensive, but each one had a special place in her heart. No value could be put on them.

I am, of course, completely unhinged once I hear the devastation they have unleashed on my partner. I try to calm her as much as possible, but I am sure, I was of little solace. Being out of the country, I was probably more of a pain in the ass, than help. Mostly, I am hollering about capital punishment for such crimes. Also, the fact that, had this been Arabia the thief would have lost a hand. I also go on about how you don’t see many Arabians with no hands, thus there must be some deterrent value, in punishment. I am ranting now, demanding a border wall. And then, Desyi points out that the “little fellow” that stole her stuff was a full on Texan. Nonetheless I will not be stifled.

When someone hurts me, I can deal with it. However, when someone hurts those closest to me, then a line has been crossed. At that point, I could become dangerous. It is a very helpless feeling seeing a loved one in mental anguish. It devastates me, because of my inability to heal it. I can fix property issues, flat tires, accidents, but cannot relieve mental pain and suffering. I mentioned, earlier, a feeling of being violated from these acts of petty thievery. It is a real and long lasting feeling. You start to trust people less and less. It destroys your feelings of peace and safety. And yes, it does make ol’ JimboRed swear.

Ange is now busy, trying to console mom. Understandably, she is inconsolable. Nothing is going to help. I am calling in every hour, and vacillating from rage to care giver. Ange, meanwhile, is the steadying force and trying to keep us both from “flying apart”. In the midst of all this pain, the front doorbell chimes. Neither of them are in a state to accept visitors. This better not be a politico or a thumper! Deysi opens the door. There is no one in sight, however, lying at her feet is HER PURSE. She cannot believe it and lets out a gasp of surprise. It is stunning, to say the least. She again looks up and down the street, but there is no one in sight. These pieces I am filling in from Deysi’s memory.

She picks up her purse and quickly searches through it. Unbelievably, her credits cards were there, her ID and driver’s license, all of her personal items are intact. The only, remaining, missing items were the small amount of cash she had and ALL OF HER JEWELRY. OF COURSE EVERY ONE OF HER SPECIAL RINGS IS GONE. It is hard to imagine the feeling you get when you see a half of your items stolen and then returned. It was a relief that she got back her purse, her ID, credit cards and other cards and documents that are very annoying to replace. However, the most valuable items, that held a lot of memories were lost forever.

Deysi felt slightly better about getting some of her stuff back. After all, the crooks were away without a trace, and could have just as easily thrown her stuff in a ditch after pilfering through it. Which in fact they probably did! Then perhaps a Good Samaritan spotted the discarded purse and went to the trouble of tracking down our house, to return the items that they found. If so, then this shows some sign of decency, remaining in some people. Deysi was willing to cede back, some amount of humanity to the Texan culture. Or perhaps, they brought it back looking for a reward for “finding” her items. But then maybe chickened out on approaching the door and realizing that I might be Texan, and could easily expect me to be standing behind this door equipped with a big ass gun.

Whatever the reason, it did change our way of living, dramatically. We were now more aware of our possessions when away from home. We surveyed our surroundings and the people around us more closely. And we stayed away from car washes for a while. And ol’ JimboRed tried to comfort our leader through her pain. It was an event that we never want to have repeated to any of us or our family as long as we live. I, for one, will forever hate thieves.

You might ask, “what good could possibly come from this memory?” For me, possibly, the good we got, was to sit down an re-live all of the places and times where we hunted for, and purchased all of Deysi’s rings. For me that makes it worth dredging up this sad memory and laying it in front of you. Hopefully, my next post will be on a much happier occurrence. I’m thinking of one about the time ol’ JimboRed hung up his spurs, and told them, “to take this job and shove it, I ain’t working here (or anywhere) no more!”