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TBAZ (Two Brothers Autonomous Zone)

When thinking about the city of Seattle, I just have to scratch my head to figure out what that mayor was thinking. Has she never heard of the saying, “Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile?”

I understand the First Amendment. People have the right to peacefully assemble and speak their minds. But to take over a police precinct building and declare a six block area of the city an autonomous zone where there will be no police? What was she thinking would happen?

After a short summer of love and a few violent episodes, Mayor Durkin has made the decision to take back the zone. There’s no timetable and she is not going to use the police. So, if the police are not going to take back the six blocks by force, how is she proposing to run the people out? Believe it or not, she’s going to ask them to leave. Why didn’t she think of that from the beginning?

Last week, I imagined a conversation with my daddy. This week, I’d like to imagine a scenario where my brother and I declare the room that we shared, as we were growing up, our autonomous zone.

First thing we have to do is figure out some cool name to put on the door. I got it. We’ll make a sign that reads WELCOME TO TBAZ. NO PARENTS ALLOWED. I know it’s impossible to pronounce, but TBAZ stands for Two Brothers Autonomous Zone.

Momma sees the sign on the door and asks, “What does TBAZ stand for?” My brother and I proudly answer, “It’s our Two Brothers Autonomous Zone.”

“What does it mean?” she again asks.

I goad my brother into answering. I’m smarter than he and know that this autonomous zone thing could be problematic. That’s another way of saying, we could be getting in over our heads!

Keith says, “We’re tired of being treated so unfairly as children. We have our rights and, inside that room, what we say goes. We’ll make our own decisions.” He said it well and momma didn’t say too much except those dreaded words, “Wait until your daddy gets home.” Yikes!

My brother and I retreat into TBAZ to think about this situation. What about supper? We’ll have to engage our parents for something to eat. After all, there’s no refrigerator in TBAZ. What about money to go to the show (that’s the old name for the movie theatre)? I think there’s a double feature playing and we’re still relying on the Bank of Daddy.

I say, “Let’s go outside and play baseball.” My brother replies, “We can’t. We’ve made a stand. If we show weakness now, it’s all over, and we’ll have to return to being treated like children. We’re stuck in TBAZ and, besides, I’m the one who will be making the decisions.”

I’m shocked and reply, “Who died and made you King of TBAZ? Now you’re treating me like a child. I’m going to have to set up my own autonomous zone!”

“Don’t make me mad,” Keith says with rising anger. “You know I can still whip you.”

“Momma!” I yell. “I need your help.”

“Sorry, son,” she replies. “Remember I’m a parent and I am not allowed to enter TBAZ. Besides, I’m frying some chicken and making biscuits for me and daddy.”

I love fried chicken and biscuits and gravy. “What do you mean, ‘you and daddy?’ What about us?”

“Don’t know what you citizens of TBAZ are going to eat,” she says. “Fend for yourselves, now that you’re autonomous.”

I look at Keith and he looks at me and we both say, “So long TBAZ!”