It's a cliché. I know, but it's true. It's hard to believe July 4th has come and gone and now, it's serious summertime.

And it is serious summertime in the Hill and surrounding places, and though the sun is not hot, the streets are steaming. At QUEST, we hear the "pop pop" of gunfire almost daily. We see cars pulled over, cars towed away, boys arrested and worst of all, large roving bands of young people walking down the middle of the road and fights big and small (some almost riot-sized) erupting like bubbles in a warm bottle of pop that has been shaken by a heavy hand.

New gangs are springing up, ones that are tougher and harder to contain than the old ones. The young bloods think (of course) that THEY know it all, that THEY are invincible, and that THEY will rule the city. There is much fighting and bickering over control of the drug trade and drugs, including the new designer drugs, are everywhere.

Schenectady has become a party city, a hot town. Kids are being sequestered out of town for their own safety. Yup, Marlon Brando in "The Wild Ones" rides again.

Yet, agencies that serve kids and the poor and the homeless and the chronically ill are going bankrupt. Out of business. Closed. Gone fishing, permanently.

Still, Schenectady is using one and a half million dollars in surplus money on completion of a bike trail -- from the Rexford Bridge down to the Stockade.

Now, my husband is an avid biker. Obsessed with running and riding. He thinks nothing of riding to Amsterdam and back on a fine (or rainy, for that matter) day. But, even he says, "That's ridiculous. No one rides those bike trails, and they are already in place and maintained. Why are they going to be graded and re-blacktopped like a small highway?"

And I think, "That's a real good question. There has to be a better way to use that money!"

Schenectady has so many dilapidated pocket parks with no play equipment. How about some wading pools and sand boxes? Saratoga Springs has many small areas with fountains and nifty equipment. We could even use some picnic tables here and there and benches for parents to sit on and watch their kids. And what happened to our skateboard park? Niskayuna has one. Don't tell me, "Benches get broken and tables get written on." Of course they do -- that's the nature of parks and using them. In your living room, council members, do you still have a 20-year-old couch? And maybe you also have a wringer washer in the basement.

It is the nature of life to move forward. Clean up, repair, replace. Volunteer! Just because your child has a trampoline or their own swimming pool doesn't mean everyone else has one. Everything is replaceable except living things.

Ah, living things. Like that 10-year-old little girl who died in that fire. The one who used to ride her pink bike up and down the street. The one who lost her life and who never had much of one before she died either.

And out of this, I hear still, ringing in my ears, that ubiquitous word RESPECT. You know, the one this old lady is always ranting and carrying on about. This child's house, no, her home was torched because someone's feelings were hurt? Because someone was slighted? Because someone was dissed? This child's life was taken over something as trivial, as meaningless as that?

Think of the fear, the terror of this little girl alone in her bedroom, where you're supposed to be safe. Don't we go to bed to relax, to feel better, to hide from the troubles of the day? Don't we bring our blankie or teddy bear, our significant other and snuggle down and feel safe? And was she safe? Where in her young life could she go? Who loved her? Who watched out for her? In the end, it was strangers. Firemen and neighbors, and her mother wasn't coming home until hours later. She must have been terrified, she must have been screaming, she must have been calling, "Mommy, Mommy!"

I asked a social worker from Albany where to go for help for abused and abandoned children. "Honey," she said, "usually you have to wait until something horrible happens, a tragedy you see, and then everyone will hop to it. And isn't hindsight the most beautiful thing?"

And whatever happened to Xstasy's Law? Remember, the little girl who was massively abused and even had bleach rubbed in her eyes? Well, New York State, in its wisdom, wrote a new law, and they even named it after her. "Xstasy's Law" it's called. Came right out of Schenectady, one of our fair city's claims to fame. But, and here's the big but, no one enforces it. The law says simply that, if you, as a concerned citizen, call any responsible and reputable agency to make a complaint about child abuse or neglect, that agency (i.e. the police department, or probation, or DSS) is supposed to make a reasonable effort to follow through. Check up, if you will, rescue a child in need.

I suggest you try it. They all have the same recorded message. "If you are calling to report suspected child abuse or neglect, please hang up and call the child abuse hot line at - - - etc, etc, etc."

It makes some of us want to steal children and bring them to a safe and happy place. These small denizens of our society are not able to call for themselves. Sometimes, no matter how bad home is, it's their home and they don't know that what is happening to them is evil. All they know is what they hear and live. It is up to us to be involved, to be a voice for justice. Speak up and speak out. Even a lone voice can speak and be heard. DO SOMETHING.