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Commentary: Eric Bergeson
April 2000

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Eric Bergeson grew up in rural northwest Minnesota. He received his Master's Degree in history from the University of North Dakota in 1990. He published a collection of essays entitled Down on the Farm in 1996. He is presently a columnist for several Minnesota weekly papers, and runs a nursery and greenhouse business in his hometown.

Eric Bergeson
 
EVIDENCE, BOTH ANECDOTAL and statistical, points towards a rise in rural crime, but ignoring that evidence is a matter of pride to those of us who live in the country.

I still leave the keys in my pickup. I don't lock the door to my house, either, even when I go to Arizona for a month. In fact, I don't know if I could find the key.

I probably have my head in the sand. Last summer, some neighbors awoke to discover a stranger having a smoke in their kitchen at 4 a.m. He got away with a purse before they could figure out who he was, although they have a pretty good idea. They lock their doors now.

But most of my neighbors seem to think, why lock the doors? If thieves want to get in, they'll find a way. May as well let them through so they don't wreck the door frame on their way in.

Such pacifism makes some sense in areas where homes are often spaced more than a half-of-a mile apart. A locked door on an empty house in the middle of nowhere is unlikely to stop a thief with a lot of time on his hands.

Rural people often assume that country burglars are little more than benevolent kleptomaniacs. They might come over and take some of your stuff, but they're probably just drunk or troubled. They might help themselves to chainsaws and wrench sets, but they wouldn't hurt anybody.

For the most part, that is true. I have seen a local thief return what he took after he sobered up the next day. Other times, things reappear a few mornings later, having been more borrowed than stolen. The borrowers aren't the cream of the crop - everybody knows that - but they don't seem capable of violence, either.

Of course violent crime does happen in the country, but it is seldom random. Most violent crimes consist of drunken brawls or domestic disputes, things that go on between people who already know each other. Locked doors on farmhouses do little to stop those crimes.

As far as locked doors go, what about drivers stranded in the cold? What if somebody goes in the ditch nearby and walks up to your farmplace; isn't it a bit rude to lock the door and deny them the use of a furnace and a phone, especially if you aren't home?

Still, there is no getting around the hard truth. As much as we hate to admit it, there is no excuse for not doing the minimum to protect oneself and one's property. Leaving one's house open is probably pure negligence.

But the notion that the world is a good place and that people are basically kind dies hard out in the countryside. We like to think we are immune from urban evils. We are proud that we still risk trusting others, especially strangers.

On some level, that can't be such a bad thing.