Pepper Spray By: Margaret Helmstetter My mother was not a particularly paranoid woman, neither was she overly brave. Common sense ruled her actions. She kept the doors locked, didn't walk places after dark, and made sure she knew who was at the door before she opened it. She worried about me, living alone, in a not so good neighborhood. One day, she handed me a canister of pepper spray. The canister was small, about the size of a breath spray. It came in a small holder that could be velcroed near the door, or carried in a woman’s purse or man’s pocket. The direction sheet that came with it was larger than the whole package, a small booklet on safety with instructions on when using pepper spray was appropriate. Of course the instructions included warnings. Don't spray into the wind; insure that nozzle is pointed away from you when using this product. May cause burning and watering eyes. When I visited mother she showed me the canisters stuck to the walls near all the outside doors, and the one on her nightstand. She was sure she would be safe. Her neighborhood was well patrolled, because of the university housing nearby, so I really didn't think she needed to worry much, but if she felt safer then I was happy. One morning, she called and asked if I could come over, she had something to tell me. I agreed and made arrangements to go and visit. She had sounded a little worried on the phone, so I hurried over there, the 15 minutes it took to get to her house seeming to take forever. Arriving, I noticed she was a little pale, but otherwise was fine. She poured tea, which was her cure all for everything. The ritual of pouring tea, making sure that everything was on the table for a cup of tea was calming. Waiting for her to tell me what was so important, I rolled various concerns through my mind. Dad was fine, the cats were in evidence, and the dog was sleeping. What could have worried her enough that she would call early in the morning, waking me up, when she knew I worked nights. I was grateful that I had the day off. She chitchatted about various things, and then almost casually asked if I had seen the morning paper yet? I had to admit, I was still in bed when she called, and at that time it was just 6 am. So I told her, “No,” I hadn't seen the paper. Was there something in the paper I should have seen? Mother told me that there had been a murder suspect running through the neighborhood last night. He had been captured in her backyard. She went on to relate the events. About two am, the dog barking, and a pounding at her door had awakened her. Mother got up, and went to see who was at the door. She had grabbed her pepper spray from the nightstand, but had neglected to put on her glasses. She used her peephole, and saw a uniform so decided that it should be safe to open the door on the chain, but to make sure she would point the pepper spray about eye level. The young cop at the door held his badge and identification card up for her, and informed her they were searching the neighborhood for a murder suspect; please don't open the door for anyone. As he left, he mentioned that the pepper spray would work better if she pointed it at the door rather than at her own face. Shortly after that incident, mother got rid of the canisters of pepper spray. She never again mentioned household safety to me. Return To: The Sept/Oct issue Survivor Haven's Homepage