The other day I was rebuilding an old fir door jamb that had been damaged in a robbery—the intruders had brutally kicked in the door and splintered the frame where the deadbolt had fastened—they hadn’t bothered using any kind of finesse in their entry instead literally using the “breaking and entering” technique—they spent the better part of a day cleaning out the place of anything valuable including a large safe they must’ve put on a dolly—
As I carefully rebuilt the entry to its original form I added a security plate to reinforce the strength of the new deadbolt knowing that it would do little to dissuade a determined thief—it was primarily to give the home owner peace of mind, however false that sense of security might be— it made me think about the illusion keys give us—the illusion of safety when, in fact, if someone wants to get through a door there is always a way—locks work because there is an agreement that breaking through a locked door is a criminal action and an invasion of privacy—the fragile lock on a diary serves the same purpose and has equal symbolic strength—there is an extra moment of thought required before a threshold is breached—needing a key might discourage crimes of convenience—they might discourage the indiscretion of reading someone’s personal thoughts but they are useless against any committed force—
Despite knowing its limitations I still had a feeling of satisfaction as I tested the key in the new lock and heard the solid sound of the bolt clicking into the new heavy jamb--sometimes that illusion of safety is all we need
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