Hellooooo, Carpentersville...

Remember the woman Carpentersville who yelled at her neighbor's kids while they were shinnying up a little tree. Seems that she yelled at them to stop acting like monkeys, or something like that.

The neighbor took offense, whether any was intended or not, and had the woman charged with Disorder Conduct under a local ordinance of the Village of Carpentersville. Not the State law, mind you; "just" a Village ordinance with a $75.00 fine. In fact, when releasing information, the police department said she "was fined $75.00"; but that was not the case. The charge carried a $75.00 fine.

Today I called Carpentersville to find out when the woman's court date is. You'd think I was trying to get the combination to the lock on the front door at Fort Knox! Somebody ought to know; right? Like, maybe, the police department? Or the Village administrator's office? Or the Clerk of the Village, who also is connected with the local court of the Village?

Ha! It must be the one of the best-kept secrets in town. I left two messages for a police commander who, I was told, would be the contact person. And the Village Clerk forwarded my request to him. How long would it take him to call me back? Sixty seconds?

What's the big deal? The big deal is that the woman charged with Disorderly Conduct is a Village Trustee which, by the way, probably never should have made it into the paper. She didn't yell at the kids because she was Trustee; she allegedly yelled at them because they risked injury if they fell or because they might damage the slight tree they were climbing.

So much for "it takes a village to raise a kid"; right? Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut, turned her back and, when she heard a thud and screams of pain, just turned up the TV volume a little. But, no; instead, she yelled at the kids. The problem? The kids are black. You'd better not call black kids "monkeys", even if they are acting like monkeys.

I grew up reading Little Black Sambo. Never for a minute did I think of race. It was a story about a little black boy who ate pancakes. Lots of pancakes. Now? You can hardly find a copy of that book. And, if you can, you'd better hide it.

The court date will be revealed. (Or maybe the Village was smart enough to drop the charges.) Court dates are public record. What a waste of everybody's time to have to file a FOIA Request for a court date! But, if they want to play the game that way, I'm in.

© 2008 GUS PHILPOTT