TALES OF THE SOUTHWEST: MY NEIGHBORS THE BLUE BANDANA GANG

By Grant McGee

I once lived in the same apartment complex as some folks who belonged to The Famous Blue Bandana Gang.

There wasn’t any fanfare or anything.  They didn’t arrive in thundering motorcycles or lowrider cars bouncing up and down. 

Nope.

One morning I walked out to get on my scooter to go to work and there was a guy wearing a blue bandana standing on the other side of the parking lot.

He was packing heat.  A big ol’ .45 or Glock or something that looked like that strapped to his side.

As I rode by on my scooter I waved at the guy.  He returned the gesture with a quick upward flick of his head.

After work I eased on in to the parking lot at home and there was a different guy wearing a blue bandana.  He was packing heat too.  I waved.  He gave me a quick upward flick of his chin.

I guess they didn’t feel any threat from some skinny dude riding a 150cc scooter.

I settled in for the evening on my condo patio with a book and a beverage when Muriel came walking by.  Muriel was a neighbor, a retired elementary school teacher who always seemed to attract kids wherever she went.  The condo complex kids were always over at her place.  She’d let them color, paint, laugh…

“Hey Muriel,” I said.

“Hi.”

“When did the Blue Bandanas move in?”  I asked Muriel because she always seemed to know what was going on in the condo complex.

“Over the weekend,” she said.  “They’re from L.A.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so,” she turned and looked off in the distance.  “Their kids are just like other kids.”

“They’ve been over to your place already?”

“Sure,” she looked at me and smiled. “Sweet kids.  You know, maybe by them being here we actually might not have graffiti and theft problems, I mean who’s going to come steal stuff in the home turf of The Blue Bandanas?”

“You have a point,” I said.

Muriel turned and walked to her place.

The months passed.  I went to work every week.  I’d wave at the morning Blue Bandana guy as I left and wave at his replacement when I came home.  I was always met with the same response, an upward flick of the chin.

Soon it was Christmastime.  December in Phoenix was still sitting-out-on-the-patio weather.  One afternoon after work I was on my patio with a book and a libation when Muriel came strolling by in her usual long gray hair, flowsy flowery blouse, maxi skirt and sandals holding a foil covered platter.

She stopped outside my place.

“C’mon,” she said.  “I’m taking some cookies to The Blue Bandanas, come on and go with me, it’ll be a cultural experience.”

I put my book down slowly.

“You’re taking cookies to The Blue Bandanas,” I said slowly looking her right in the eye.

“Oh come ON,” she said rolling her eyes.  “They’re just people like you and me.  Look at them like a big ol’ family.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m always on for some adventure.”

I got up, joined Muriel on the sidewalk and away we strolled to the home of The Blue Bandanas.

We walked across the parking lot and headed straight for the guy standing guard.

As Muriel approached a smile broke across his face.

“Ms. Thompson, how you doin’?”

I didn’t know the guy could talk.  I didn’t know he could smile.

“Hey Armando,” Muriel said.

She knew his name, this was interesting.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked looking at the foil covered plate.

“Chocolate chip cookies for Christmas,” she said.

“Oooo, can I have one?” 

“Sure honey, take two,” she said as she lifted the foil.  Underneath was a huge mound of chocolate chip cookies.  I reckoned there were four dozen there.  Armando took one.

“Gotta leave more for the kids,” said Armando.  “Hey, you go on in there.  They’ll be surprised.”

Muriel put the foil back on the plate and headed for one of the nearby condos.

She walked right up and knocked on the door.

In moments it was opened by another guy wearing a blue bandana real low on his forehead.

His face lit up with a big smile.

“Heeeey, Mrs. Thompson, come on in.”

Muriel lead the way into a room filled with people.  There must’ve been a dozen little ones on the floor in a big pile watching cartoons and young folks resplendent in jeans, leathers and blue bandanas sitting together on a wraparound couch.

“Mrs. T!” the kids seemed to scream all at once and they swarmed around her.

The twentysomethings on the couch broke into smiles.

“I brought Christmas cookies for all.  Chocolate chip.”

“Are they just for the kids or can we have some too?” asked one of the couch sitters.

“Of course,” said Muriel.  “I think I made enough for all.”

And so there I stood in the living room of a home belonging to members of The Famous Blue Bandana gang. 

It really was like what Muriel said, they were like a big family.

Soon, the cookies were gone.  Muriel gave goodbye hugs to the kids and goodbyes to their parents and friends and we were out the door.

“Have a good night Mrs. Thompson,” said Armando as we walked by. 

I stopped and turned to Armando and extended my hand.

“My name’s Grant,” I said as Armando and I shook.

“Oh yeah,” he said.  “We know you live here, but we all call you ‘Scooterman.’  You look funny, such a tall dude on such a small scooter.  You know who you’re hanging ‘round with?  That’s the ‘Angel of the Barrio.’  And if you’re hanging with her, you’re good peeps.”

Well now I knew I lived in the barrio.

And that I was a friend of the resident angel.

                                                                       -30-