East Baltimore is no place to hone golf skills. Ha's husband moved with Sean to North Carolina so their son could perfect his game. Ha visits every three weeks but keeps her son's trophies on a table by her cash register. She tried living in the suburbs once but hated it. Too quiet. Too green.
"In Baltimore, I feel alive," she says.
Stand outside her shop, and you quickly realize that Ha sees things differently than most. Out of despair, she sees hope. From the troublemakers, she sees promise. "These are my people," she says. "I love these people. When I'm not around, they look over my shoulder. We look after each other. They have made me laugh. They have made me cry."
I found Ha when I rode with Eastern District Officer Adrian Amos, who laughed as he slowed his squad car in front of Kay's. He's used to hearing from Ha, and he said he tries to help her out. It was Amos who told me about the clubhouse she's trying to get, noting the problems when drug dealers and seniors claim the same turf for different reasons.
Residents such as Carl Washington, 58, complain that it's the police who can't or don't care to discern the difference between a teenage dealer and a senior citizen. "They tell everyone to go," he says during a recent visit to the store.
A police car slows, and the officer asks if everything is OK. It is, and he drives off. Ha has managed to bridge a divide - she embraces the community and the police. "If it wasn't for the Police Department, I couldn't stay here," she acknowledges - and she makes no secret about helping both.
Explains East Baltimore resident Carl Williams, 56: "She gives respect. She gets respect."
And so today on Thanksgiving, Ha will join the legions of others giving away free meals. The corner will never be misconstrued as a formal dining room filled with the laughter of children and the banter of relatives relaxing in front of a roaring fire.
Many of the older men here are alone; they have each other and the liquor store, and maybe soon permission will come from the city for Ha to buy and renovate the vacant rowhouse to give the men a place of their own to play cards and drink beer and while away the time.
For now, the corner will have to do. And while it lacks tablecloths and fine china, no doubt the stories from the neighborhood folks will be just as entertaining, and as full of laughter, as any fireside chat.
