It’s Saturday and I’ve attended one more racism workshop - facing racism, dismantling racism,
undoing racism - so many titles, so much frustration in working through feelings, truths, facts,
dialogue, perceptions, and attitudes. Today’s ‘Building Awareness of Race and Culture in
Inclusive Community Work’ was sponsored by our St. Paul District Councils. My frustration is
not with the workshops; it’s a testament to need that such workshops keep going and that they
are well attended. I’m frustrated that the SYSTEM of race is so slow in changing.
Systems - ones that work and don’t work; formal and informal. Computer systems and sewer
systems. Social systems. How often do we even think of the systems in which we live and
work? At work I have much less power than most other colleagues, but I have a little. In my
neighborhood, I have more. Why? Because I’m white; and even though I live paycheck to
paycheck and yes, I rent in a city that wants us to own. Being white with a European white
name gives me an edge. Even with all the vacant houses in my immediate neighborhood, I am
or am becoming a minority in the several blocks around me with Karen, Latino, Somali, Hmong
and African-American, but my visible whiteness gives me an edge.
A couple years ago, a neighbor heard that I had been attacked by the same person who had
attacked her a month earlier. Why, she asked me, was the legal system and news pursuing
my case (5th degree misdemeanor assault) when hers (3rd degree felony with substantial
bodily harm) received almost no attention? Though I’m forever grateful for the assistance
I’ve received, I’ve always felt somewhat guilty. I’ve wondered if it was helpful to be connected
with my community, or if it was because I am white and my neighbor African-American. The
assailant was African-American. The reasons for being attacked are different, but they should
not matter. The seeming inequality of treatment stays with me in a way that the physical attack
has not.
How do we change a system in which too many people are not represented by people who
reflect them - in values, color, culture, ethnicity? I reason that the most solid changes come in
increments, one person, one step at a time, building relationships and going to where people
shop, meet, worship, play, celebrate and mourn. It’s not necessarily comfortable.
I sometimes feel discomfort when I am a minority, attending a meeting where I’m the only
one not familiar with the format; in being invited to a Mexican family celebration and being
unsure of when to leave, having obviously arrived too early; attending a Latino political caucus
and not needing a translator because the anger at the table speaks very clearly; inviting new
Karen neighbors to use our community dumpster, only to find that with our language barrier,
they think that I’ve invited them to straighten it up; offering them a ride to a clinic, only to have
them break out in warm, wondrous smiles of surprise (and likely answered prayer) at the clinic
entrance, that this strange woman wasn’t kidnapping them!
My hope is that some people I’ve met this way will, with several invitations, become regulars at
our first Thursday community meetings, council committees, or our district council board. If they don’t participate at the community table, it is their loss and, to a greater extent, mine. Until
then we still smile and exchange pleasantries (I think) as we meet each other!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
An awesome evening in late September
I kept hearing what a beautiful day it was...while I was tucked inside my cubicle all day. I desperately needed to get some paperwork done, but as I walked up onto the porch, a couple kids followed. It was a beautiful day. I never made it upstairs until after nine o'clock tonight. 'F', 'J', 'F', 'C', 'P' and soon 'S' and 'J' joined us. All evening, the boys came and went. It was a nice and easy evening.
J shared his MP3 video and prime time toons; 'C' and 'P' explained some of the ethnic gangs to me, observations and experiences. We called the police to investigate a broken basement window in a vacant house; called the realtor who sent someone to board it. Conversation went from a couple of the families looking for houses to purchase; 'P' said he was going to help sod on Friday and earn some money; they talked about 'the hood' and what they liked about it. Very direct talk about behavior they see and what carries from the street to school.
Talk went to banned books. We were talking about robots and that led to robots being a theme of ALA Banned Books Week. 'What are banned books?' That led to further discussion. Four of the boys specifically said 'we could have a classroom'....to work on writing and reading after school. They know about the homework zone at the public library, but it seems they want a room where they can talk and study together. I'll double check with the rec center and library study room, but it would be nice to have something that can be available on a continuous basis. I'm also thinking about using my apartment, around the dining room table.
When we were alone, 'C' and I talked about shyness, authenicity, and some fears. His love and admiration for his older brother is so transparent and strong. 'C' said he'd like to do a video documentary about the neighborhood. I think there's someone at Metro I can get to help with that.
We talked about a situation next door when a police officer made an inappropriate comment to a woman. The boys led the conversation about race relations, assumptions people make about others, how some people look down on others who need assistance, and who our friends are.
These boys check in with their parents so often and the parents stop by on their way home from work or to work. 'P' asked about community meetings when I said I could bring something up. Two of the kids may come with me next Thursday to our District 4 meeting. Several will be attending the CD 4 Bruce Vento dinner with me on Sunday. They're planning our next visit to Bike Heaven and 'J', 'F', 'J' and 'F' are due for a Chuckee Cheese visit. I'll have to start setting aside my paycheck for pizza and tokens for an October night out.
For the last half hour, 'C' and I talked and a football 'game' continued in the middle of Bates with about seven other kids...'car coming!', called periodically.
J shared his MP3 video and prime time toons; 'C' and 'P' explained some of the ethnic gangs to me, observations and experiences. We called the police to investigate a broken basement window in a vacant house; called the realtor who sent someone to board it. Conversation went from a couple of the families looking for houses to purchase; 'P' said he was going to help sod on Friday and earn some money; they talked about 'the hood' and what they liked about it. Very direct talk about behavior they see and what carries from the street to school.
Talk went to banned books. We were talking about robots and that led to robots being a theme of ALA Banned Books Week. 'What are banned books?' That led to further discussion. Four of the boys specifically said 'we could have a classroom'....to work on writing and reading after school. They know about the homework zone at the public library, but it seems they want a room where they can talk and study together. I'll double check with the rec center and library study room, but it would be nice to have something that can be available on a continuous basis. I'm also thinking about using my apartment, around the dining room table.
When we were alone, 'C' and I talked about shyness, authenicity, and some fears. His love and admiration for his older brother is so transparent and strong. 'C' said he'd like to do a video documentary about the neighborhood. I think there's someone at Metro I can get to help with that.
We talked about a situation next door when a police officer made an inappropriate comment to a woman. The boys led the conversation about race relations, assumptions people make about others, how some people look down on others who need assistance, and who our friends are.
These boys check in with their parents so often and the parents stop by on their way home from work or to work. 'P' asked about community meetings when I said I could bring something up. Two of the kids may come with me next Thursday to our District 4 meeting. Several will be attending the CD 4 Bruce Vento dinner with me on Sunday. They're planning our next visit to Bike Heaven and 'J', 'F', 'J' and 'F' are due for a Chuckee Cheese visit. I'll have to start setting aside my paycheck for pizza and tokens for an October night out.
For the last half hour, 'C' and I talked and a football 'game' continued in the middle of Bates with about seven other kids...'car coming!', called periodically.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
change of seasons, change of moods
I accept each new day of September as a gift of one more day of neighborhood activity; a promise of neighborhood connectivity. Truthfully, I am not looking forward to winter. It's not the snow, the horrendous heating bills, or the icy sidewalks making the Fourth to Seventh Street walk to work a treacherous one. Because darkness descends so early in the evening/late afternoon, and with no warm gathering place to just hang out, our casual drop-in relationships will become suspended until spring.
Weekend movies on the porch have bec ome a large focus over the last two summers. They've become much more than simply a movie night. Kids often start asking on Monday, 'are we having a movie this week?' I've found that they are the better selectors of movies than I am, so I largely leave it with them to select and negotiate. Bantering mingles with calling dibs on a favorite seat; serious conversation sometimes occurs during 'glitch fixes' of the DVD player or projector, checked out from my workplace. Conversation might drift from violence in school, local theft, social behavior, sex education in school, to medical or homeless issues. These topics come from the kids, eight to 14 years old.
Interestingly, what has evolved is that besides a group of kids actually watching a movie, a growing group of pre-teen to young teens gathers on the edge of the porch or in the yard itself. The movie seems of no apparent interest. They just gather on the steps or on their bikes and talk among themselves. Occasionally, a two or three will leave to race down Bates, then return. I suppose it's no different than my enjoying time at a coffee shop – just being in a comfortable place to chat, with no planned activity, just be.
If I could move all this indoors for the winter, I readily would do so. I look at empty houses such as 342 Bates, listed at $159,000 (I just called the realtor, who said someone is seriously considering its purchase, as a four-plex). A house like this would be a perfect drop-in center for kids (and possibly a parents' meeting place). I know the Dayton's Bluff branch library has a well-used homework room with tutors; also that we have a great rec center on Conway Street (though a challenge in crossing Third). I dream of a drop-in center where kids can come for help with homework, or even just a place to study or read; a place where they can stop in and talk with any adult who is there (and those adults being neighborhood people)...a place to play board games or work on a 3-D puzzle. I'm not talking about a second recreation center or introducing more vehicle traffic; not even a child care or playground. Just a year-round place where kids can benefit from caring adults who are willing to provide a place of safety and conducive to informal socializing, learning, and confidence in reading or writing...in their own neighborhood. And could it be possible to have a place where struggling neighborhood parents could meet and work through parenting issues?
I am aware of organizations and agencies with facilities for meetings and activities. I am also aware that of fifteen kids of all ages, standing at the morning bus stop, each one can be attending a different school, scattered throughout the city. I'm not saying this is good or bad in itself. My observation is that many neighborhoods such as ours, have no common thread as there once was. A common thread might be a school, a place of worship, or a common value, or a local company where most parents worked and shared the same meal time, payday, employer expectations. One neighbor might discipline another's child, being of the same mind and same value. Even the threat of becoming the subject of a rumor could sanction a person's behavior.
If we do have a current common value – one by which we openly live – it's more difficult to identify. Though we have a number of families who own homes and whose children have lived here most of their lives, we also have children who come and go. They appear in a yard, on the porch, perhaps throw stones to establish their presence...they may relate to two or three adults, establish a beginning relationship and then disappear...perhaps fifteen blocks away, perhaps to an aunt in Illinois or Mississippi, sometimes the family splitting itself between two or three relatives.
So what is my point? My point is that I see two groups of kids: those who find activities such as skateboarding, biking, baseball, etc. and play together. They are called home for meals, at curfews; they check in from time to time, and look after each other's welfare; they are fairly static. The other group is more fluid, often changing with the change of months. They usually aren't here long enough to grasp the values or 'rules' of the neighborhood. It would be too easy to yell at each one who traipses through a garden, picking or pulling out flowers, rather than explain what a garden is; of addressing each F- word spewed, or litter tossed into the street; the difference between climbing a tree versus climbing over a private fence. In our immediate two blocks in any direction, are Karen, Somali, Black, Latino, Hmong, and Euro-white children. Though there are few actual clashes and those are by 'adults', most of these cultures keep to their own ethnic groups, just playing around the fringes of others. Even among kids, friendships seem tentative. Would it be easier if kids all went to the same neighborhood school? I'm not proposing it, I'm just considering that with only a few hours after school or on weekends, it can be difficult to establish healthy roles even among children in a neighborhood.
oo many children running around unsupervised. Most live one to three blocks from our Fourth & Bates neighborhood.
I grew up in a family of seven people (four girls and one boy), moving from place to place, never with more than two bedrooms for the entire family. I learned to study best with a hum of noise in the background, but usually had to stay up until 11 at night before there was any space to open math books and spread out homework papers.
Most people know how the porch movies started, so I won't go into it except to say that in doing it, I meant to build a neighborhood connection between adult residents and children and others who walk and play in our neighborhood. That has happened, and continues. What has caught me in total awe is the strength, sensitivity, insight and creativity of the young people in our area. A local man, who rebuilds bikes, dropped off four or five 'rejects'. Led by one young man, these many bikes became two or three, combined with parts from others and given to those who were without a bike. One extended 'tricycle' lost its large, wide, hard plastic wheels and gained spoked wheels, a cushy video chair seat and eventually a speaker system; quieter bike and easy turning. As bikes are rebuilt and sold or traded, I'm even learning what parts and sizes are most sought...pegs anyone?
A neighbor had found and dropped off a picnic table of sorts. As we considered what color to paint the seats, one of the boys suggested a design of a second color. It's looking great. We've already used it many times, one being a pizza supper (their idea and treat). We all learned by trial and error, the finer points in using painters' tape for design work and again, we learned patience. During one talk time with four or five boys present, one noticed that I had yawned and looked droopy. He is one who sort of looks out for me...my age, I dread to say. He sweetly suggested to the others that we move the conversation to the porch where I could lie on the lounge chair. I have received gifts of cinnamon swirl bread from a local bakery where the parents of one of the girls work; homemade tamales from another. Best of all are the smiles and what their eyes reveal – sometimes silent laughter, sometimes a quizzical look in response to an odd behavior, especially of an adult, sometimes a furrowed brow.
Last weekend, a skateboarder, probably late teens or early twenties, came down his usual Maple to Bates Fourth Street hill. I love watching him, though I am amazed that he and others risk their lives at the four-way stop at which most drivers don't actually look to see what's coming – only look at what is already at the intersection. I've seen him wipe out a few times, even without traffic. This particular day I was stunned to see that he was clutching to his chest, a baby! Not even a toddler. A baby!
No one could tell me where he lives. I said to one of the boys, who was visiting on my porch, that I will smash a watermelon in front of the skateboarder to demonstrate what his baby's head will look like if he falls while holding the baby. My visitor looked shocked. He later related this to a friend, and I couldn't help but embrace the slight smile on his face. And here's the gift: a few days later, something happened and his smile came to mind...these moments give over and over again. I'll break out in a smile or laughter myself and have a difficult time explaining why. I carry the neighborhood in my heart. I've never known such a neighborhood; nor have I ever lived among people where each is so valued.
Weekend movies on the porch have bec ome a large focus over the last two summers. They've become much more than simply a movie night. Kids often start asking on Monday, 'are we having a movie this week?' I've found that they are the better selectors of movies than I am, so I largely leave it with them to select and negotiate. Bantering mingles with calling dibs on a favorite seat; serious conversation sometimes occurs during 'glitch fixes' of the DVD player or projector, checked out from my workplace. Conversation might drift from violence in school, local theft, social behavior, sex education in school, to medical or homeless issues. These topics come from the kids, eight to 14 years old.
Interestingly, what has evolved is that besides a group of kids actually watching a movie, a growing group of pre-teen to young teens gathers on the edge of the porch or in the yard itself. The movie seems of no apparent interest. They just gather on the steps or on their bikes and talk among themselves. Occasionally, a two or three will leave to race down Bates, then return. I suppose it's no different than my enjoying time at a coffee shop – just being in a comfortable place to chat, with no planned activity, just be.
If I could move all this indoors for the winter, I readily would do so. I look at empty houses such as 342 Bates, listed at $159,000 (I just called the realtor, who said someone is seriously considering its purchase, as a four-plex). A house like this would be a perfect drop-in center for kids (and possibly a parents' meeting place). I know the Dayton's Bluff branch library has a well-used homework room with tutors; also that we have a great rec center on Conway Street (though a challenge in crossing Third). I dream of a drop-in center where kids can come for help with homework, or even just a place to study or read; a place where they can stop in and talk with any adult who is there (and those adults being neighborhood people)...a place to play board games or work on a 3-D puzzle. I'm not talking about a second recreation center or introducing more vehicle traffic; not even a child care or playground. Just a year-round place where kids can benefit from caring adults who are willing to provide a place of safety and conducive to informal socializing, learning, and confidence in reading or writing...in their own neighborhood. And could it be possible to have a place where struggling neighborhood parents could meet and work through parenting issues?
I am aware of organizations and agencies with facilities for meetings and activities. I am also aware that of fifteen kids of all ages, standing at the morning bus stop, each one can be attending a different school, scattered throughout the city. I'm not saying this is good or bad in itself. My observation is that many neighborhoods such as ours, have no common thread as there once was. A common thread might be a school, a place of worship, or a common value, or a local company where most parents worked and shared the same meal time, payday, employer expectations. One neighbor might discipline another's child, being of the same mind and same value. Even the threat of becoming the subject of a rumor could sanction a person's behavior.
If we do have a current common value – one by which we openly live – it's more difficult to identify. Though we have a number of families who own homes and whose children have lived here most of their lives, we also have children who come and go. They appear in a yard, on the porch, perhaps throw stones to establish their presence...they may relate to two or three adults, establish a beginning relationship and then disappear...perhaps fifteen blocks away, perhaps to an aunt in Illinois or Mississippi, sometimes the family splitting itself between two or three relatives.
So what is my point? My point is that I see two groups of kids: those who find activities such as skateboarding, biking, baseball, etc. and play together. They are called home for meals, at curfews; they check in from time to time, and look after each other's welfare; they are fairly static. The other group is more fluid, often changing with the change of months. They usually aren't here long enough to grasp the values or 'rules' of the neighborhood. It would be too easy to yell at each one who traipses through a garden, picking or pulling out flowers, rather than explain what a garden is; of addressing each F- word spewed, or litter tossed into the street; the difference between climbing a tree versus climbing over a private fence. In our immediate two blocks in any direction, are Karen, Somali, Black, Latino, Hmong, and Euro-white children. Though there are few actual clashes and those are by 'adults', most of these cultures keep to their own ethnic groups, just playing around the fringes of others. Even among kids, friendships seem tentative. Would it be easier if kids all went to the same neighborhood school? I'm not proposing it, I'm just considering that with only a few hours after school or on weekends, it can be difficult to establish healthy roles even among children in a neighborhood.
oo many children running around unsupervised. Most live one to three blocks from our Fourth & Bates neighborhood.
I grew up in a family of seven people (four girls and one boy), moving from place to place, never with more than two bedrooms for the entire family. I learned to study best with a hum of noise in the background, but usually had to stay up until 11 at night before there was any space to open math books and spread out homework papers.
Most people know how the porch movies started, so I won't go into it except to say that in doing it, I meant to build a neighborhood connection between adult residents and children and others who walk and play in our neighborhood. That has happened, and continues. What has caught me in total awe is the strength, sensitivity, insight and creativity of the young people in our area. A local man, who rebuilds bikes, dropped off four or five 'rejects'. Led by one young man, these many bikes became two or three, combined with parts from others and given to those who were without a bike. One extended 'tricycle' lost its large, wide, hard plastic wheels and gained spoked wheels, a cushy video chair seat and eventually a speaker system; quieter bike and easy turning. As bikes are rebuilt and sold or traded, I'm even learning what parts and sizes are most sought...pegs anyone?
A neighbor had found and dropped off a picnic table of sorts. As we considered what color to paint the seats, one of the boys suggested a design of a second color. It's looking great. We've already used it many times, one being a pizza supper (their idea and treat). We all learned by trial and error, the finer points in using painters' tape for design work and again, we learned patience. During one talk time with four or five boys present, one noticed that I had yawned and looked droopy. He is one who sort of looks out for me...my age, I dread to say. He sweetly suggested to the others that we move the conversation to the porch where I could lie on the lounge chair. I have received gifts of cinnamon swirl bread from a local bakery where the parents of one of the girls work; homemade tamales from another. Best of all are the smiles and what their eyes reveal – sometimes silent laughter, sometimes a quizzical look in response to an odd behavior, especially of an adult, sometimes a furrowed brow.
Last weekend, a skateboarder, probably late teens or early twenties, came down his usual Maple to Bates Fourth Street hill. I love watching him, though I am amazed that he and others risk their lives at the four-way stop at which most drivers don't actually look to see what's coming – only look at what is already at the intersection. I've seen him wipe out a few times, even without traffic. This particular day I was stunned to see that he was clutching to his chest, a baby! Not even a toddler. A baby!
No one could tell me where he lives. I said to one of the boys, who was visiting on my porch, that I will smash a watermelon in front of the skateboarder to demonstrate what his baby's head will look like if he falls while holding the baby. My visitor looked shocked. He later related this to a friend, and I couldn't help but embrace the slight smile on his face. And here's the gift: a few days later, something happened and his smile came to mind...these moments give over and over again. I'll break out in a smile or laughter myself and have a difficult time explaining why. I carry the neighborhood in my heart. I've never known such a neighborhood; nor have I ever lived among people where each is so valued.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
682/684 Fourth St. East - a Brad Nilles property in Dayton's Bluff
This is one of three properties on Fourth Street
East in Dayton's Bluff. These are owned by Brad
Nilles, Calabash Properties. He also owns Seven
Hawks Vineyard, just outside of Fountain, Wisconsin.
Bill Walker is the property manager, but had not been overly responsive to neighbors' complaints about tenant behavior or the overflowing garbage that has become a fairly regularly event. This example, to be fair, came out over Labor Day weekend...gave our visitors and friends a new look at Dayton's Bluff!
A few years ago, I invited Brad to meet with a few
Fourth Street neighbors, but he declinedl. We would
still like to meet, to talk about how we could all
improve the Fourth and Bates area. He might get
better tenants (with a better screening process)
and we all could be on the receiving end of a better
quality of life experience - probably not quite like a
lodge room at Seven Hawks, but nice, nonetheless.
Nilles, Calabash Properties. He also owns Seven
Hawks Vineyard, just outside of Fountain, Wisconsin.
Bill Walker is the property manager, but had not been overly responsive to neighbors' complaints about tenant behavior or the overflowing garbage that has become a fairly regularly event. This example, to be fair, came out over Labor Day weekend...gave our visitors and friends a new look at Dayton's Bluff!
A few years ago, I invited Brad to meet with a few
Fourth Street neighbors, but he declinedl. We would
still like to meet, to talk about how we could all
improve the Fourth and Bates area. He might get
better tenants (with a better screening process)
and we all could be on the receiving end of a better
quality of life experience - probably not quite like a
lodge room at Seven Hawks, but nice, nonetheless.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Police Calls, guns, and kids on Sesame Street
SUNDAY FARMERS MARKET:
Cesar went with me to the Farmers' Market this am. Kept saying he wasn't hungry, but I'm glad to say he had a cheddar brat with me for breakfast. Saw Kenchi's uncle when I picked up egg rolls and passed on a greeting from the neighborhood.We purchased several phlox and a couple other plants...I keep saying 'these are the last flowers'. Yesterday morning when I went out to plant bulbs that Jill had left, Mario and Cesar were right there to help. Also, we found a beautiful jar of honey with honeycomb...mmmm. I took a piece of the honeycomb and gave Cesar the jar to take home. He told how, in Mexico, he helped to smoke the bees to remove honeycomb, and how large it was. This young man has so many stories of his life in Mexico and his travels here and back. He and others, like Abigail have seen and experienced so much. Their stories could enrich our lives greatly.
SPNN KIDS VIDEO PROJECT:
Friday night, Mary Pumphreys and her son, Augie, came over to show us a preview of the Kids Neighborhood Video project. We had a small group Friday - not many kids around, for whatever reason. We showed the video twice...the first group had several adults who knew many places, but the second group, too - recognized and enjoyed seeing the bakery and several houses they recognized, with he little histories.
LEARNING EXPERIENCE FOR ME:
Movies and projects such as this on the porch/yard, have been a learning experience in the attention span of various kids, and what movies appeal to them. It's certainly not as easy as taking six white, USA-reared children with same cultural background and similar experience and seeing an almost one-size fits all project through. Here we have varying degrees of comprehension and language skills, extreme differences in attention span and learning. If this is even a small indicator of what our elementary teachers face in their classrooms, they indeed face a tremendous challenge!
BIKES FOR KIDS:
Lara, by chance, met a neighborhood man who rebuilds bicycles that he finds broken and abandoned in the streets. She's been able to provide many of her neighbors with bikes. I called him yesterday and will connect with him again today. Cesar said about ten kids can use bikes. We'll pay for what we can. The man doesn't charge much, and I think the kids will appreciate them more it they can pay something.
I'll stop at Target on the way home to see what locks and cables cost. Too broke right now to do much until Friday.
IS SESAME STREET SURREAL?
In the last three weeks:
On the 19th, I came home early one day to find a mini-van partially blocking my drive, and parked about three feet from the curb. Long story short, young man was passed out behind the steering wheel, female passenger on cell phone; said car trouble/didn't need my help, said both had just moved here and were tired. I called non-emergency to have squad check on car. They quickly connected me to ambulance squad when I told her about driver. While I was on this call, the passenger finally aroused the driver and they switched positions before police arrived. Driver taken away in ambulance, police (three squads and canine unit) did thorough search of bags, passenger, vehicle (about 2 and a half hours).
The following Thursday when I got home, neighbors and kids told me of two groups who clashed. One group came into our block with bats, took one or two porch spindles from a neighbor's house, three shepherd plant hooks, and a brick from several neighbors. Neighbors said it was a 'ten on ten' and one person was taken in by police. A police report I later received from Ellen B. stated fewer people were actually involved (though all neighbors did say 'ten on ten'), and more people were cited. A windshield and window from one car were smashed. When I arrived home, there was glass on Bates at Fourth, and two of the three planters across the street were neatly sitting where they once had hung by the shepherds hooks I had put out for neighbors last year.
Later that day, one neighbor found the brick, another found the spindle/s and another the shepherd hooks and replaced them. I then replaced the flowers and exchanged them for fresh flowers as they had dried and seemed a bit ragged.
The funny part of all this is that when Kate, who had been away all week, came home, all was in order and no one would have guessed of our little melee.
Then last week, one block down, Lara experienced an episode of a person claiming to have a gun, yelling for all the kids to go behind the house, police appearing and staying only briefly (minute or two), and then a few hours later, Lara was in front, mending a child's scraped knee...police came by...all was peaceful, as if nothing had ever disturbed the relative quiet.
Yesterday Cesar told me that this past Thursday two people, with a gun, were at Fifth and Bates, looking for the daughter of a Fifth St. resident. No other info on it, except the daughter, apparently, has a history of getting into trouble. Larry never said a thing...that's how ordinary these occurences are in the neighborhood. The kids don't seem at all phased by these, though I know they are, from asking Cesar and Jose how they handle them.
Cesar went with me to the Farmers' Market this am. Kept saying he wasn't hungry, but I'm glad to say he had a cheddar brat with me for breakfast. Saw Kenchi's uncle when I picked up egg rolls and passed on a greeting from the neighborhood.We purchased several phlox and a couple other plants...I keep saying 'these are the last flowers'. Yesterday morning when I went out to plant bulbs that Jill had left, Mario and Cesar were right there to help. Also, we found a beautiful jar of honey with honeycomb...mmmm. I took a piece of the honeycomb and gave Cesar the jar to take home. He told how, in Mexico, he helped to smoke the bees to remove honeycomb, and how large it was. This young man has so many stories of his life in Mexico and his travels here and back. He and others, like Abigail have seen and experienced so much. Their stories could enrich our lives greatly.
SPNN KIDS VIDEO PROJECT:
Friday night, Mary Pumphreys and her son, Augie, came over to show us a preview of the Kids Neighborhood Video project. We had a small group Friday - not many kids around, for whatever reason. We showed the video twice...the first group had several adults who knew many places, but the second group, too - recognized and enjoyed seeing the bakery and several houses they recognized, with he little histories.
LEARNING EXPERIENCE FOR ME:
Movies and projects such as this on the porch/yard, have been a learning experience in the attention span of various kids, and what movies appeal to them. It's certainly not as easy as taking six white, USA-reared children with same cultural background and similar experience and seeing an almost one-size fits all project through. Here we have varying degrees of comprehension and language skills, extreme differences in attention span and learning. If this is even a small indicator of what our elementary teachers face in their classrooms, they indeed face a tremendous challenge!
BIKES FOR KIDS:
Lara, by chance, met a neighborhood man who rebuilds bicycles that he finds broken and abandoned in the streets. She's been able to provide many of her neighbors with bikes. I called him yesterday and will connect with him again today. Cesar said about ten kids can use bikes. We'll pay for what we can. The man doesn't charge much, and I think the kids will appreciate them more it they can pay something.
I'll stop at Target on the way home to see what locks and cables cost. Too broke right now to do much until Friday.
IS SESAME STREET SURREAL?
In the last three weeks:
On the 19th, I came home early one day to find a mini-van partially blocking my drive, and parked about three feet from the curb. Long story short, young man was passed out behind the steering wheel, female passenger on cell phone; said car trouble/didn't need my help, said both had just moved here and were tired. I called non-emergency to have squad check on car. They quickly connected me to ambulance squad when I told her about driver. While I was on this call, the passenger finally aroused the driver and they switched positions before police arrived. Driver taken away in ambulance, police (three squads and canine unit) did thorough search of bags, passenger, vehicle (about 2 and a half hours).
The following Thursday when I got home, neighbors and kids told me of two groups who clashed. One group came into our block with bats, took one or two porch spindles from a neighbor's house, three shepherd plant hooks, and a brick from several neighbors. Neighbors said it was a 'ten on ten' and one person was taken in by police. A police report I later received from Ellen B. stated fewer people were actually involved (though all neighbors did say 'ten on ten'), and more people were cited. A windshield and window from one car were smashed. When I arrived home, there was glass on Bates at Fourth, and two of the three planters across the street were neatly sitting where they once had hung by the shepherds hooks I had put out for neighbors last year.
Later that day, one neighbor found the brick, another found the spindle/s and another the shepherd hooks and replaced them. I then replaced the flowers and exchanged them for fresh flowers as they had dried and seemed a bit ragged.
The funny part of all this is that when Kate, who had been away all week, came home, all was in order and no one would have guessed of our little melee.
Then last week, one block down, Lara experienced an episode of a person claiming to have a gun, yelling for all the kids to go behind the house, police appearing and staying only briefly (minute or two), and then a few hours later, Lara was in front, mending a child's scraped knee...police came by...all was peaceful, as if nothing had ever disturbed the relative quiet.
Yesterday Cesar told me that this past Thursday two people, with a gun, were at Fifth and Bates, looking for the daughter of a Fifth St. resident. No other info on it, except the daughter, apparently, has a history of getting into trouble. Larry never said a thing...that's how ordinary these occurences are in the neighborhood. The kids don't seem at all phased by these, though I know they are, from asking Cesar and Jose how they handle them.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Fourth of July Weekend on Fourth and Bates
Fireworks>
It was the first time in a couple years that I was home for the Big Fourth. The neighborhood fireworks (imported from Wisconsin) didn’t bother me as much as in the past – we had enough rain that those that hit the houses and yards didn’t seem quite as dangerous. Sunday night I heard several hit second floor windows and found pieces in our parking area and yard.
I moved several kids, over the weekend, away from our intersection where younger children were playing. Seeing so many 7-13 year olds with lighters and matches, setting off all kinds of illegal fireworks was not very comforting, with none of their parents around. Thankfully, not of our kids got hurt – amazing!
What is funny is that several of the boys would take their firecrackers and set them off on the sidewalk in front of other houses…parents don’t want them in front of theirs, perhaps? I kept directing them back to their own. Finally, yesterday, they set many off near a vacant, dilapidated house a couple doors down. Frankly, I kept hoping the house would catch fire so we wouldn’t have to keep looking at it too slowly falling in.
Yard Sale and movies>
Bonni and Kyle are moving, so several of us got together for a two-day yard sale: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=66815&id=1176506549&l=81a4af5791
Even the littlest ones brought things to sell and kept the economy going by purchasing ‘stuff’. Samantha set up a lemonade stand on Friday. We had masks to give away and kids loved that.
We had movies on the porch Friday - 'Madagascar II' and 'Meet Dave' on Saturday, after 'Invictus' took a dive.
On Friday also, we kept watch on a neighbor's home and were on extra alert for the children. Several children up the street, who are unsupervised by an adult all day and into the night, had threatened one of our six year olds with a bat and broken knife. We called the police a couple times. Turns out that the same kids had threatened a number of our other neighborhood kids in the past. Seems to be a constant here. The oldest boy went past my porch and as the neighbor and I were talking, pointed his hand like a gun at us. Where are the parents?!
Block Party>
Three years ago, I helped to set up a Fourth of July block party in the cul de sac. Because of one resident, it then became an ‘invited only’ party, not a public neighborhood party. So last year I didn’t help set it up as she didn’t want her neighbors (mostly black and low income) access. She has a reputation for deterring people from using the overlook to watch the Fourth fireworks – turning her sprinklers onto the public grass, etc.
This year, Lara, who lives in the cul de sac got the street blocked and passed out flyers of invitation. I made all the potato salad and one of Lara’s neighbors grilled hot dogs for everyone. To her credit, the anti-social woman did supply watermelon and grapes….thank you very much.
Lara arranged a dance-off for the kids and it was great. http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=1450629&l=6da3650509&id=1176506549
The kids had a great time and I really enjoyed meeting some of our new Karen neighbors and Lara’s renters. The fire department brought a truck for the kids to climb on…until they were called away for a fire.
Sadly, someone had smeared axle grease over the road barrier at the end of the cul de sac, and over the cement wall and chain link fencing that overlooks Mounds Boulevard. For as long as fireworks have been on display from the Capitol grounds and from Harriet Island, this is where area people come to sit on the barrier and stand against the wall with their children to watch the display.
Lara called the police to let them know about the vandalism and I called the fire department on Sunday afternoon to see if the substance was hazardous and could it be removed. While we had thought it was motor oil, they identified it as axle grease, confirmed that someone had purposely smeared it (only in the areas where people normally viewed the fireworks display, and said they had nothing that would remove it. They recommended a degreaser.
We went home and got all the cleaning supplies we could find, and borrowed several hoses – about five, I think, and spent hours scrubbing down the barricade, wall and fencing. Even the little ones were determined. We now have the cleanest cul de sac in the city!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=66895&id=1176506549&l=930611ff86
All in all, it was a great weekend on Fourth and Bates. The kids learned some powerful lessons.
It was the first time in a couple years that I was home for the Big Fourth. The neighborhood fireworks (imported from Wisconsin) didn’t bother me as much as in the past – we had enough rain that those that hit the houses and yards didn’t seem quite as dangerous. Sunday night I heard several hit second floor windows and found pieces in our parking area and yard.
I moved several kids, over the weekend, away from our intersection where younger children were playing. Seeing so many 7-13 year olds with lighters and matches, setting off all kinds of illegal fireworks was not very comforting, with none of their parents around. Thankfully, not of our kids got hurt – amazing!
What is funny is that several of the boys would take their firecrackers and set them off on the sidewalk in front of other houses…parents don’t want them in front of theirs, perhaps? I kept directing them back to their own. Finally, yesterday, they set many off near a vacant, dilapidated house a couple doors down. Frankly, I kept hoping the house would catch fire so we wouldn’t have to keep looking at it too slowly falling in.
Yard Sale and movies>
Bonni and Kyle are moving, so several of us got together for a two-day yard sale: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=66815&id=1176506549&l=81a4af5791
Even the littlest ones brought things to sell and kept the economy going by purchasing ‘stuff’. Samantha set up a lemonade stand on Friday. We had masks to give away and kids loved that.
We had movies on the porch Friday - 'Madagascar II' and 'Meet Dave' on Saturday, after 'Invictus' took a dive.
On Friday also, we kept watch on a neighbor's home and were on extra alert for the children. Several children up the street, who are unsupervised by an adult all day and into the night, had threatened one of our six year olds with a bat and broken knife. We called the police a couple times. Turns out that the same kids had threatened a number of our other neighborhood kids in the past. Seems to be a constant here. The oldest boy went past my porch and as the neighbor and I were talking, pointed his hand like a gun at us. Where are the parents?!
Block Party>
Three years ago, I helped to set up a Fourth of July block party in the cul de sac. Because of one resident, it then became an ‘invited only’ party, not a public neighborhood party. So last year I didn’t help set it up as she didn’t want her neighbors (mostly black and low income) access. She has a reputation for deterring people from using the overlook to watch the Fourth fireworks – turning her sprinklers onto the public grass, etc.
This year, Lara, who lives in the cul de sac got the street blocked and passed out flyers of invitation. I made all the potato salad and one of Lara’s neighbors grilled hot dogs for everyone. To her credit, the anti-social woman did supply watermelon and grapes….thank you very much.
Lara arranged a dance-off for the kids and it was great. http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=1450629&l=6da3650509&id=1176506549
The kids had a great time and I really enjoyed meeting some of our new Karen neighbors and Lara’s renters. The fire department brought a truck for the kids to climb on…until they were called away for a fire.
Sadly, someone had smeared axle grease over the road barrier at the end of the cul de sac, and over the cement wall and chain link fencing that overlooks Mounds Boulevard. For as long as fireworks have been on display from the Capitol grounds and from Harriet Island, this is where area people come to sit on the barrier and stand against the wall with their children to watch the display.
Lara called the police to let them know about the vandalism and I called the fire department on Sunday afternoon to see if the substance was hazardous and could it be removed. While we had thought it was motor oil, they identified it as axle grease, confirmed that someone had purposely smeared it (only in the areas where people normally viewed the fireworks display, and said they had nothing that would remove it. They recommended a degreaser.
We went home and got all the cleaning supplies we could find, and borrowed several hoses – about five, I think, and spent hours scrubbing down the barricade, wall and fencing. Even the little ones were determined. We now have the cleanest cul de sac in the city!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=66895&id=1176506549&l=930611ff86
All in all, it was a great weekend on Fourth and Bates. The kids learned some powerful lessons.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It was a very nice day
I finally finished a letter about local traffic - I had been procrastinating for months. It took concentration, coffee, a Caribou environment, and three hours; interrupted once by a neighbor who sounded as if she had a desire to pick a fight. I needed to get back to my work and I wasn't wanting to parry words with her (she kept picking things apart). I'm afraid when I said I didn't want to go into anything right now (work and public place on a cell) she took offense, which I think she wanted to do anyway, and hung up. Not the first time and it won't be the last...she's one of two who seem to always be looking for something to disparage or tsk about.
That was a very small, but annoying piece of the day. I got home and Kenchi came running over with a hug, Samm asked if I was going to visit her at her house, Pedro, Jose, Jesus, John, Mario, Fermin, Cesar, Kenchi, were all out and I love the joking and teasing. John is so good with the boys. The boys know quite a bit about what goes on in the neighborhood. It's an active intersection and John filled me in on Brandon's run-in with his mother and the latest, usual petition for blocking the cul-de-sac. Supposedly it's for a 'block party', but the petitioner invites only a select few, not her neighbors for a private party. Several of us won't go after the first one because it was such a sham, plus she was appeared upset with more than half the people there. Now it's pretty much of a private party with public funds paying for firefighters to block the street with their truck. It's adds to the funkiness and weirdness of the neighborhood.
A plus is that several weeks back I serendipitously met a man who had just finished teaching a drumming workshop here at Metro State Library and he's agreed to hold a drumming workshop for my neighborhood kids. I have to come up with $75 and he can work with 10-15 kids, using the big plastic pails (like the restaurant pickle pails). They'll love it! I can invite some of the newer kids who live down on Maria and seem to have no supervision. It might be a helpful way of bringing some of them together.
That was a very small, but annoying piece of the day. I got home and Kenchi came running over with a hug, Samm asked if I was going to visit her at her house, Pedro, Jose, Jesus, John, Mario, Fermin, Cesar, Kenchi, were all out and I love the joking and teasing. John is so good with the boys. The boys know quite a bit about what goes on in the neighborhood. It's an active intersection and John filled me in on Brandon's run-in with his mother and the latest, usual petition for blocking the cul-de-sac. Supposedly it's for a 'block party', but the petitioner invites only a select few, not her neighbors for a private party. Several of us won't go after the first one because it was such a sham, plus she was appeared upset with more than half the people there. Now it's pretty much of a private party with public funds paying for firefighters to block the street with their truck. It's adds to the funkiness and weirdness of the neighborhood.
A plus is that several weeks back I serendipitously met a man who had just finished teaching a drumming workshop here at Metro State Library and he's agreed to hold a drumming workshop for my neighborhood kids. I have to come up with $75 and he can work with 10-15 kids, using the big plastic pails (like the restaurant pickle pails). They'll love it! I can invite some of the newer kids who live down on Maria and seem to have no supervision. It might be a helpful way of bringing some of them together.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Little neighbors
Neighborhood garden tour was yesterday evening - very pleasant, though I went to the first and then mine, not finishing the tour. I was just too tired. Also, I just didn't want to deal with probable drama of one of the group. Influenced by wine (her own self-disclosure of 'if you want to talk with me, catch me before 3:00'), she tends to get snarky and make some cruelly biting remarks to me in a group; she's very caring and pleasant in private conversation. I just don't need that in my life. So rested instead, and worked on our July 2 yard sale.
Kenchi and Cesar were in attendance and I realize how much they and some of the other kids add to my life. I am so grateful for them. Life is good with children and gardens in it.
Kenchi and Cesar were in attendance and I realize how much they and some of the other kids add to my life. I am so grateful for them. Life is good with children and gardens in it.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Expecting a quiet weekend and bits and pieces
Tonight will be our second 2010 movie weekend. Last weekend two new kids joined us. A little boy, about 11 commented, as he watched the movie, "I like this better than my house". I think it was our giant screen. Kinji, who is five years old, was allowed over. He is so very tiny - just a wisp...so talkative. He ran through his list of favorite movies and all the action. I think he remembers everything. A-, whose mom works at the nearby bakery, couldn't stay, but she is a fantastic little girl...looks 12 years old, but is only eight...and stories to go with it.
These kids are great additions. Unfortunately, Jessica, who used to live across the street (it was her screams we heard and reported) has moved. Will the next neighbors dare to 'interfere'? I hope so.
I'm creating quite a stack of items for a yard sale later this month. The Mickey Mouse and Cookie Monster sweaters that belonged to Sam as a two year old...finally ready to part with them! The Star Wars Atat (sp), Darth Vadar, and space ships...not sure yet...looking for prices. These were huge investment in the 70s!
It feels good to be able to finally separate. I don't have much packed away, but every bit of space counts in an apartment. Now if there were a way to motivate my downstairs hoarding neighbor. It's frightening the stacks and stacks and piles of 'stuff' he has there.
My cell phone is not working. I think it was too close to my magnetized name tag in my purse...ROT!!
This past week I planted more perennials, purchased from a fundraiser neighborhood plant sale. I kept declaring myself done, then a neighbor kept dropping off False Solomon Seal native plants. I planted and gave much away, got more and will plant the rest tomorrow. I picked up some REAL Solomon Seal last night and will plant them tomorrow. Someone stole my tomato plant I had in a big pot near my drive. If the person had waited, s/he could simply have picked tomatoes off the vine later this summer. Fortunately, I have two more plants on the other side of the house. They just won't be as productive.
These kids are great additions. Unfortunately, Jessica, who used to live across the street (it was her screams we heard and reported) has moved. Will the next neighbors dare to 'interfere'? I hope so.
I'm creating quite a stack of items for a yard sale later this month. The Mickey Mouse and Cookie Monster sweaters that belonged to Sam as a two year old...finally ready to part with them! The Star Wars Atat (sp), Darth Vadar, and space ships...not sure yet...looking for prices. These were huge investment in the 70s!
It feels good to be able to finally separate. I don't have much packed away, but every bit of space counts in an apartment. Now if there were a way to motivate my downstairs hoarding neighbor. It's frightening the stacks and stacks and piles of 'stuff' he has there.
My cell phone is not working. I think it was too close to my magnetized name tag in my purse...ROT!!
This past week I planted more perennials, purchased from a fundraiser neighborhood plant sale. I kept declaring myself done, then a neighbor kept dropping off False Solomon Seal native plants. I planted and gave much away, got more and will plant the rest tomorrow. I picked up some REAL Solomon Seal last night and will plant them tomorrow. Someone stole my tomato plant I had in a big pot near my drive. If the person had waited, s/he could simply have picked tomatoes off the vine later this summer. Fortunately, I have two more plants on the other side of the house. They just won't be as productive.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Summer annoyances and deep breaths
It was so unbearably hot yesterday, hitting 90 degrees, and I heard, the hottest day here on May 24 in 125 years. I do not deal well with humidity. After work I attended a Paint the Pavement meeting, wanting to repaint our not yet one year old intersection 'mural'. It's very badly faded into an inky wash. The PtP coordinator had not seen anything like it.
Later in the evening, around 10:30, I was upstairs at my computer when loud voices continued. At first I thought it was just neighbors on their front porch, but it became more disruptive, apparently yelling out to possible acquaintances driving by. I went out onto the downstairs porch - a quiet presence sometimes changes things. I sat out there for about 10 minutes as five or six young men and women stood on the corner talking, laughing - loud enough that with the hot night and close houses, the sound carries to the far inner reaches of the houses, when it's already too humid to sleep.
Deep breaths, practice voice tone in my head, rephrase introduction. I didn't know what mood or attitude I might receive and wanted to be careful about the attitude I gave. "Hi, I've got some pretzels here if any of you would like any..." The answer I received from a young man who said he was 25, was "Hi, how ya doin'? Are we being too loud?" "A bit, yes,' I explained Kyle works two jobs and three nearby houses have young kids who have to be up early for the school buses. We joked; I promised that yes, I'd share a glass of wine with him sometime, though I would still need to card him...' We joked about that and in a minute or two, they split up and walked toward their homes.
This past week, at the end of the day, and sometimes even mid-afternoon, I have felt shredded inside. We have in influx of so many kids who are unsupervised; music blaring from the apartment and the house across the street (doesn't everyone want to listen to the music I like?), cars with broken or no mufflers, taxis and friends beeping horns instead of using cell phones or their pick-ups watching for their rides, adults and kids yelling from one end of the street to the other, cars booming and rocking through the intersection, the neighbor two doors up who uses a power wash or electric tools from afternoon till late after dark, the woman across the street screaming at the man, the man apparently hitting the child and sometimes pounding his fist on the inside of the window (to scare Mel?). Then the visuals - the 19/20 year old who threw his plastic cup, filled with ice and covered, as high as he could and walked away from his litter; finding plastic bags of dog poop under a bush or hanging on the fence (glad you pick it up, people, but don't regift it to me!); picking up any kind of trash people don't want to carry around in their car;
and the cars that don't or barely even slow as they run the stop signs. I was watering the front flower beds at 6am and saw two go past...I didn't have my hose out far enough or I swear I would have got his car!! At various times I have counted 95 cars through the intersection in 45 minutes...this has been on weekends and any weekday evening.
Later in the evening, around 10:30, I was upstairs at my computer when loud voices continued. At first I thought it was just neighbors on their front porch, but it became more disruptive, apparently yelling out to possible acquaintances driving by. I went out onto the downstairs porch - a quiet presence sometimes changes things. I sat out there for about 10 minutes as five or six young men and women stood on the corner talking, laughing - loud enough that with the hot night and close houses, the sound carries to the far inner reaches of the houses, when it's already too humid to sleep.
Deep breaths, practice voice tone in my head, rephrase introduction. I didn't know what mood or attitude I might receive and wanted to be careful about the attitude I gave. "Hi, I've got some pretzels here if any of you would like any..." The answer I received from a young man who said he was 25, was "Hi, how ya doin'? Are we being too loud?" "A bit, yes,' I explained Kyle works two jobs and three nearby houses have young kids who have to be up early for the school buses. We joked; I promised that yes, I'd share a glass of wine with him sometime, though I would still need to card him...' We joked about that and in a minute or two, they split up and walked toward their homes.
This past week, at the end of the day, and sometimes even mid-afternoon, I have felt shredded inside. We have in influx of so many kids who are unsupervised; music blaring from the apartment and the house across the street (doesn't everyone want to listen to the music I like?), cars with broken or no mufflers, taxis and friends beeping horns instead of using cell phones or their pick-ups watching for their rides, adults and kids yelling from one end of the street to the other, cars booming and rocking through the intersection, the neighbor two doors up who uses a power wash or electric tools from afternoon till late after dark, the woman across the street screaming at the man, the man apparently hitting the child and sometimes pounding his fist on the inside of the window (to scare Mel?). Then the visuals - the 19/20 year old who threw his plastic cup, filled with ice and covered, as high as he could and walked away from his litter; finding plastic bags of dog poop under a bush or hanging on the fence (glad you pick it up, people, but don't regift it to me!); picking up any kind of trash people don't want to carry around in their car;
and the cars that don't or barely even slow as they run the stop signs. I was watering the front flower beds at 6am and saw two go past...I didn't have my hose out far enough or I swear I would have got his car!! At various times I have counted 95 cars through the intersection in 45 minutes...this has been on weekends and any weekday evening.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Screams, hits, who calls?
I spent most of my day on Friday in front of a computer stationed in a windowless cubicle. As I learned what a beautiful day it was, I began planning to be outside after work. I had a perennial that needed to be planted, as well as a few tomato plants given to me by a neighbor.
Several neighbors gathered on the sidewalk as I dug in the 'boulevard' flowerbed. As a few adults and kids tossed a football and dribbled a basketball among the others who chatted about plans for the weekend and some used furniture for sale, I was reminded why I love my Fourth Street neighborhood. There are divas, dramas, and we each at one time or another seem to evoke attitude or censure. We are a close knit neighborhood community.
As I was joining three friends for a glass of wine and a few minutes to check out one's newly rented house, my younger neighbor, about 9 years old - I'll call her Mel - approached me with her friend Alma and Alma's little sister (they were babysitting). Mel said, in her usual adult way, 'Sage, would you introduce us to the others, please?' I called out the other women and made introductions; then the three youngest had to go home.
Later, as I was working on the planting, Mel called me to the corner. She told me the little girl in the upstairs apartment was being 'hit again'. 'It happens all the time', she said; I hear her screaming a lot'. I called the police. I couldn't find the beat officer's number in my cell phone and the neighbors I called for it didn't have it handy; I could not remember the three digits for the non-emergency 1111 number. And by then, the little girl had poked her head outside the downstairs door.
The Ramsey County dispatcher used a voice anything but calm and reassuring. I told her that I had preferred to call my beat officer but had no number, and that the girl was now outside, and that I did not want to have a siren or car in front of the house. I had to say, 'are you listening to me?'. She was one of the worst dispatchers I have ever had...and yes, I believe I am counted as one of their 'habitual callers'. That building has had so many domestic violence and other calls in the last year or two. The owner says he knows and tries to maintain....I would need to talk with him more to find out what he isn't doing or what isn't working.
I see the little girl out on the sidewalk in front of their building. No grass, but she seems to dance more than run from on end of the building around the corner and back again. She waves her arms like a small Isadora Duncan. She never has any toys, but once I saw her with Mel.
Her parents (Mel said the man who hits her is her stepfather. I don't know the facts on that)seem to be invisible. I hear a woman occasionally upstairs, and a little boy, sometimes at the window. I've called child endangerment about the little boy - another neighbor and I have seen him lean out the window several times...and have called code enforcement about a screen that seems to often be torn. The screen has been repaired since the last time I called. The response from child services was less than enthusiastic 'you should call code about the screen. Yes, I have already, but I'm calling you about the child at risk. I don't know what we can do. Well, I suppose we can wait until he falls out the second floor window and hits the sidewalk?. Well I guess we can look into it.'
Last week I gave her a little lap harp I had, and a couple stuffed animals. I was told that the mother had been sleeping many of the times when the girl was outside. She used to be locked out, but now has door access at least. One never knows what happens in another's home. We can imagine the worst and stereotype or reach out, or we can want to believe the best so that we can close our eyes and ears against what our hearts tell us is really happening....and not get involved.
After I talked with the dispatcher, Mel asked me a couple times if I was crying. I told her no, I was just very, very angry with the dispatcher; very frustrated when someone doesn't listen. While we waited for the police the number of kids grew. I got them playing a little ball instead of waiting for 'excitement' and then got some onto my porch and involved in a checkers game. A few sat on the steps as if waiting for a show to start. I tried to turn their attention, telling them that though we need to call and act when something is wrong, it's not always what we think it is, nor is it respectful toward others to watch it as if it's a tv show. They asked me why I would say that, and I could tell them that, as a child, the police were at our door too often, and a couple of the reasons.
Mel has my greatest respect. Her uncle and grandmother tend not to want to get involved. They've lived in the neighborhood for years - Mel's uncle grew up in the house where Mel's grandparents continues to live. Mel's grandmother is very protective of Mel, and I appreciate that she didn't insist that Mel stay inside. Mel has been hearing the hitting and screaming for weeks or months. I don't know if anyone has called about that specifically, but Mel told her grandmother she wasn't going in until she talked with the police. Mel, you're my kind of community person; I pray that you will retain your strength of character and boldness in speaking up.
Several neighbors gathered on the sidewalk as I dug in the 'boulevard' flowerbed. As a few adults and kids tossed a football and dribbled a basketball among the others who chatted about plans for the weekend and some used furniture for sale, I was reminded why I love my Fourth Street neighborhood. There are divas, dramas, and we each at one time or another seem to evoke attitude or censure. We are a close knit neighborhood community.
As I was joining three friends for a glass of wine and a few minutes to check out one's newly rented house, my younger neighbor, about 9 years old - I'll call her Mel - approached me with her friend Alma and Alma's little sister (they were babysitting). Mel said, in her usual adult way, 'Sage, would you introduce us to the others, please?' I called out the other women and made introductions; then the three youngest had to go home.
Later, as I was working on the planting, Mel called me to the corner. She told me the little girl in the upstairs apartment was being 'hit again'. 'It happens all the time', she said; I hear her screaming a lot'. I called the police. I couldn't find the beat officer's number in my cell phone and the neighbors I called for it didn't have it handy; I could not remember the three digits for the non-emergency 1111 number. And by then, the little girl had poked her head outside the downstairs door.
The Ramsey County dispatcher used a voice anything but calm and reassuring. I told her that I had preferred to call my beat officer but had no number, and that the girl was now outside, and that I did not want to have a siren or car in front of the house. I had to say, 'are you listening to me?'. She was one of the worst dispatchers I have ever had...and yes, I believe I am counted as one of their 'habitual callers'. That building has had so many domestic violence and other calls in the last year or two. The owner says he knows and tries to maintain....I would need to talk with him more to find out what he isn't doing or what isn't working.
I see the little girl out on the sidewalk in front of their building. No grass, but she seems to dance more than run from on end of the building around the corner and back again. She waves her arms like a small Isadora Duncan. She never has any toys, but once I saw her with Mel.
Her parents (Mel said the man who hits her is her stepfather. I don't know the facts on that)seem to be invisible. I hear a woman occasionally upstairs, and a little boy, sometimes at the window. I've called child endangerment about the little boy - another neighbor and I have seen him lean out the window several times...and have called code enforcement about a screen that seems to often be torn. The screen has been repaired since the last time I called. The response from child services was less than enthusiastic 'you should call code about the screen. Yes, I have already, but I'm calling you about the child at risk. I don't know what we can do. Well, I suppose we can wait until he falls out the second floor window and hits the sidewalk?. Well I guess we can look into it.'
Last week I gave her a little lap harp I had, and a couple stuffed animals. I was told that the mother had been sleeping many of the times when the girl was outside. She used to be locked out, but now has door access at least. One never knows what happens in another's home. We can imagine the worst and stereotype or reach out, or we can want to believe the best so that we can close our eyes and ears against what our hearts tell us is really happening....and not get involved.
After I talked with the dispatcher, Mel asked me a couple times if I was crying. I told her no, I was just very, very angry with the dispatcher; very frustrated when someone doesn't listen. While we waited for the police the number of kids grew. I got them playing a little ball instead of waiting for 'excitement' and then got some onto my porch and involved in a checkers game. A few sat on the steps as if waiting for a show to start. I tried to turn their attention, telling them that though we need to call and act when something is wrong, it's not always what we think it is, nor is it respectful toward others to watch it as if it's a tv show. They asked me why I would say that, and I could tell them that, as a child, the police were at our door too often, and a couple of the reasons.
Mel has my greatest respect. Her uncle and grandmother tend not to want to get involved. They've lived in the neighborhood for years - Mel's uncle grew up in the house where Mel's grandparents continues to live. Mel's grandmother is very protective of Mel, and I appreciate that she didn't insist that Mel stay inside. Mel has been hearing the hitting and screaming for weeks or months. I don't know if anyone has called about that specifically, but Mel told her grandmother she wasn't going in until she talked with the police. Mel, you're my kind of community person; I pray that you will retain your strength of character and boldness in speaking up.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Be a positive change
Society and its systems sometimes work backwards. Today, as I was at the computer and looking out the window, I saw six to eight boys. They were probably between the ages of 12 and 15. Most are new to the neighborhood over the last month and some live next door. I've exchanged greetings with several and have asked them to walk around the flower bed instead of through it. They've complied and have always been polite.
On the corner tonight they were talking, sometimes standing out in the street, but always moving out of the way when cars came. Corners, I suppose are still the place to be noticed, to check out cars, be checked out, be cool, see action and sometimes create some action. True, I thought that if I weren't familiar with the neighborhood, I might be a little nervous going up to a stop sign with young men standing close to the car and eyeing it. But that doesn't usually make me nervous; they were ok. Then they started the 'play fighting' and I got my shoes on to talk with them. That's something that I've asked the kids NOT to do in the street.
By the time I was leaving my apartment, I saw a police car slowly pass, and no kids.
I stopped and talked to a neighbor whose father was stuck up at gun point on Saturday in our intersection. The perp was caught, the man is fine and the family (yea!!) still believes we have a great neighborhood. As we were talking, the squad was driving by and I stopped the officers to ask about the kids. One officer said they 'chased them away'. I said I was just on my way down to talk with them. She/officer said 'don't do that; call us'. I couldn't believe it. My first thought was that talking first was better, not being 'chased' off. Which action is likely to escalate idle behavior to dares and anger? My second thought was 'who do you think you're talking to?'
Of course I'm going to talk with them first.
On the corner tonight they were talking, sometimes standing out in the street, but always moving out of the way when cars came. Corners, I suppose are still the place to be noticed, to check out cars, be checked out, be cool, see action and sometimes create some action. True, I thought that if I weren't familiar with the neighborhood, I might be a little nervous going up to a stop sign with young men standing close to the car and eyeing it. But that doesn't usually make me nervous; they were ok. Then they started the 'play fighting' and I got my shoes on to talk with them. That's something that I've asked the kids NOT to do in the street.
By the time I was leaving my apartment, I saw a police car slowly pass, and no kids.
I stopped and talked to a neighbor whose father was stuck up at gun point on Saturday in our intersection. The perp was caught, the man is fine and the family (yea!!) still believes we have a great neighborhood. As we were talking, the squad was driving by and I stopped the officers to ask about the kids. One officer said they 'chased them away'. I said I was just on my way down to talk with them. She/officer said 'don't do that; call us'. I couldn't believe it. My first thought was that talking first was better, not being 'chased' off. Which action is likely to escalate idle behavior to dares and anger? My second thought was 'who do you think you're talking to?'
Of course I'm going to talk with them first.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Community, Neighborhood
Neighborhood. That's become an important concept in my life since I moved to Dayton's Bluff in the spring of 2000. Neighborhood, community - how many meanings, how varied, what boundaries, who is included, how accepting, and how emotionally integrated are those who live within the confines. What is it that creates a neighborhood or a community? Is it a police grid, defined city districts or wards, the end of a comfortable block, or just those with whom we are comfortable? Are the boundaries physical as major streets, perhaps the heaviest traffic areas? Is a neighborhood as small as the closest neighbors, perhaps four houses that connect with my own? Does it extend to the kids I know, whether at the end of the next block or two doors down? Is it a physical boundary or is a neighborhood made up of the people I actually know.
I've found that my own conversational definition of 'neighborhood' changes depending on.... My neighborhood sometimes extends to the Payne/Phalen area where some of my favorite people meet at Polly's Coffee Cove on Saturday morning for round table discussions and solutions to community problems...or up to Suburban, including Byerley's restaurant, where they know exactly how I like my poached eggs on a weekday morning; though I don't personally know any other customers there, I enjoy eavesdropping, and know many details about family, friends, jobs, and love life. At other times my neighborhood narrows to the two or three blocks in any direction of my home.
Local coffee shops become communities and even families, sometimes quite close knit. Recently, I've heard several 'community' references made to places where people gather even on a temporary basis such as a group waiting for an event. At a recent discussion a woman repeatedly identified a local bar as her community, though, she said it was difficult to get to know anyone there. While others in the large group exchanged ideas for their neighborhood communities, she consistently returned to the bar community. Comfort zone? Isolation outside of the bar?
Community to me is probably more intangible than my neighborhood. Community is at least in part, the attitude of a collected people and how they interact with each other. Community - individuals as well as the 'sense' they create.
Part of this thinking came about yesterday evening when three of us were out picking up trash on Conway, between Maria and Bates Street. It's one short block that too often looks, as one person described it, 'a devastated third world country'. My own block looks like a ghost town with a minimum of litter to pick up and, with all the boarded houses, no overflowing garbage bins.
When I drive down this block of Conway, I do get an eerie feeling as if I'm very far removed from my own life. Shari/Sherry (sp) at the Thursday DC4 meeting mentioned this block and three of us at that moment agreed to meet Friday evening to clean it. Amazing things can happen in one short hour! With guerrilla gardening, why not guerrilla clean-up? I can do it when I feel the urge and have a high energy level...without a doubt, my legs hurt for two days afterward!
Though I often contemplate the concept of community, this came more recently to mind with our Conway clean-up. Of three of us, I was first to arrive. A young man double parked and began blaring his horn. I approached him and asked if he wanted someone to come out from the house. He angrily told me that someone was in his driveway...that they were often parked there. I asked him if he had talked with them about it, and informed him that it was actually illegal to sound his horn except in an emergency. When I asked who his landlord was, and suggested he talk to the landlord, he hemmed and hawed. Upon more conversation, it's his girlfriend's apartment, not his. Therefore, it's not even his driveway!!! He did park at the curb, and didn't honk again until about 45 minutes later...when he squealed off, sounding his horn for me. Ahhh, civility!
At the house next door to his girlfriend, there was an empty garbage bin in the street. On the grass at the curb was a pile about three feet high and spreading over about eight feet out of pizza boxes, an old, artificial Christmas tree, miscellaneous 'stuff' clothes, and scattered litter. It had rained all day, so everything was soppy wet and further falling apart. Once the sun dried it all out, the trash would be flying for blocks around. I went to the door and said I was with a neighborhood cleaning crew from Dayton's Bluff. I said that I see that the garbage service didn't pick up everything and if they needed help, I would be glad to help them. 'No', their landlord would be out to do it, the woman said. I asked her if she knew that if the city knew this was here, her landlord would receive a big fine. Oddly enough, within the hour, everything was picked up.
Across the street, as we picked up broken glass bottles, the pieces well embedded into the wet soil - I couldn't help but remember when my youngest sister, Gail, was a toddler, she walked into a puddle and severely cut the sole of her foot. We lived in a rural area at the time, no car, and while I held Gail still, my mother stitched her foot with household thread. How could people in this neighborhood disregard the safety of all the children who darted about? A young woman came to the door. She was cradling a baby. She thanked us and asked why. I understand that a young mother would not possibly have time or facility to be picking up litter in her front yard...but the man who came and stood behind her?
At the corner, a man came out and asked what we were doing. When Sherry told him, he said that was for his landlord to do. He smiled, glad that it was being cleaned. My whole thought to this is the line drawn between a landlord's responsibilities and a tenant's...and the blurry grey area. When I've mentioned it to others, some have said it's because when some people rent, they feel no responsibility for the property, especially outside the walls of the dwelling. There's much, of course, connected to that: resentment of the landlord for lack of maintenance response, high rents a person may feel sucked into. I'm not saying it's right, just that it exists.
Perhaps the renter lives only within the walls of the apartment, duplex, or house. Going from the door to the car, to the bus stop, to the store is simply no different than walking through a parking lot at Target. It's an access. How many times do you see people picking up litter in a parking lot?
I'm a renter. For about ten years before we divorced, my husband and I owned a home. My parents were renters all their lives. I can remember times as a child when my world was only within the walls of the apartment; when we didn't dare go outside except to go elsewhere, not to play or visit near our home. But I also remember, as a family of seven (five kids) living in a one room motel-like unit for about a year, planting watermelon seeds outside, in a 'garden' my sister and I dug up with a soup spoon. Surely, we didn't 'garden' because we cared as 10- and 5-year olds about 'improving' the landscape of this gravel-covered 'yard'. I don't know what we wanted - to see something grow, to see results of planting seeds, to nurture something? We had seldom been really attached to a neighborhood. Perhaps we were seeking that attachment to something outside of the way we hid ourselves from 'normal' people?
I can see this - the lack of attachment - in some of my neighbors. Next door there are those who visit on the porch and have somewhat of a connection to people who walk by. Then there are those who simply walk from their door, to the waiting car, and they casually toss their garbage over the fence and into our yard. I ask myself, how welcoming are people who own homes in my neighborhood...the block group that existed some years ago was made up only of a few homeowners...by invitation...that was also their 'national night out'. I often would hear renters as a group, disparaged at neighborhood meetings. I would hope it's 'only' because the persons speaking had in their minds a specific behavior they were attaching to a group and they were so focused in their anger, they couldn't see beyond. I had said at one meeting that if they substituted 'Black' or 'Asian', they could be accused of racism.
Perhaps if our district or neighbors offered to help disenfranchised renters to set up a raised garden or encouraged the landlord/property owner to do some landscaping (this instead of always calling Code Enforcement or not contacting the landlord. Perhaps if neighbors could look at their neighbors who could use a hand in planting, in connecting with the outside we could establish better relationships and build a community. Community = caring about your neighbor, not just your friends. Community = extending yourself. Community = building from within, one to one relationships and spreading to include others.
sh 4/10/2000
I've found that my own conversational definition of 'neighborhood' changes depending on.... My neighborhood sometimes extends to the Payne/Phalen area where some of my favorite people meet at Polly's Coffee Cove on Saturday morning for round table discussions and solutions to community problems...or up to Suburban, including Byerley's restaurant, where they know exactly how I like my poached eggs on a weekday morning; though I don't personally know any other customers there, I enjoy eavesdropping, and know many details about family, friends, jobs, and love life. At other times my neighborhood narrows to the two or three blocks in any direction of my home.
Local coffee shops become communities and even families, sometimes quite close knit. Recently, I've heard several 'community' references made to places where people gather even on a temporary basis such as a group waiting for an event. At a recent discussion a woman repeatedly identified a local bar as her community, though, she said it was difficult to get to know anyone there. While others in the large group exchanged ideas for their neighborhood communities, she consistently returned to the bar community. Comfort zone? Isolation outside of the bar?
Community to me is probably more intangible than my neighborhood. Community is at least in part, the attitude of a collected people and how they interact with each other. Community - individuals as well as the 'sense' they create.
Part of this thinking came about yesterday evening when three of us were out picking up trash on Conway, between Maria and Bates Street. It's one short block that too often looks, as one person described it, 'a devastated third world country'. My own block looks like a ghost town with a minimum of litter to pick up and, with all the boarded houses, no overflowing garbage bins.
When I drive down this block of Conway, I do get an eerie feeling as if I'm very far removed from my own life. Shari/Sherry (sp) at the Thursday DC4 meeting mentioned this block and three of us at that moment agreed to meet Friday evening to clean it. Amazing things can happen in one short hour! With guerrilla gardening, why not guerrilla clean-up? I can do it when I feel the urge and have a high energy level...without a doubt, my legs hurt for two days afterward!
Though I often contemplate the concept of community, this came more recently to mind with our Conway clean-up. Of three of us, I was first to arrive. A young man double parked and began blaring his horn. I approached him and asked if he wanted someone to come out from the house. He angrily told me that someone was in his driveway...that they were often parked there. I asked him if he had talked with them about it, and informed him that it was actually illegal to sound his horn except in an emergency. When I asked who his landlord was, and suggested he talk to the landlord, he hemmed and hawed. Upon more conversation, it's his girlfriend's apartment, not his. Therefore, it's not even his driveway!!! He did park at the curb, and didn't honk again until about 45 minutes later...when he squealed off, sounding his horn for me. Ahhh, civility!
At the house next door to his girlfriend, there was an empty garbage bin in the street. On the grass at the curb was a pile about three feet high and spreading over about eight feet out of pizza boxes, an old, artificial Christmas tree, miscellaneous 'stuff' clothes, and scattered litter. It had rained all day, so everything was soppy wet and further falling apart. Once the sun dried it all out, the trash would be flying for blocks around. I went to the door and said I was with a neighborhood cleaning crew from Dayton's Bluff. I said that I see that the garbage service didn't pick up everything and if they needed help, I would be glad to help them. 'No', their landlord would be out to do it, the woman said. I asked her if she knew that if the city knew this was here, her landlord would receive a big fine. Oddly enough, within the hour, everything was picked up.
Across the street, as we picked up broken glass bottles, the pieces well embedded into the wet soil - I couldn't help but remember when my youngest sister, Gail, was a toddler, she walked into a puddle and severely cut the sole of her foot. We lived in a rural area at the time, no car, and while I held Gail still, my mother stitched her foot with household thread. How could people in this neighborhood disregard the safety of all the children who darted about? A young woman came to the door. She was cradling a baby. She thanked us and asked why. I understand that a young mother would not possibly have time or facility to be picking up litter in her front yard...but the man who came and stood behind her?
At the corner, a man came out and asked what we were doing. When Sherry told him, he said that was for his landlord to do. He smiled, glad that it was being cleaned. My whole thought to this is the line drawn between a landlord's responsibilities and a tenant's...and the blurry grey area. When I've mentioned it to others, some have said it's because when some people rent, they feel no responsibility for the property, especially outside the walls of the dwelling. There's much, of course, connected to that: resentment of the landlord for lack of maintenance response, high rents a person may feel sucked into. I'm not saying it's right, just that it exists.
Perhaps the renter lives only within the walls of the apartment, duplex, or house. Going from the door to the car, to the bus stop, to the store is simply no different than walking through a parking lot at Target. It's an access. How many times do you see people picking up litter in a parking lot?
I'm a renter. For about ten years before we divorced, my husband and I owned a home. My parents were renters all their lives. I can remember times as a child when my world was only within the walls of the apartment; when we didn't dare go outside except to go elsewhere, not to play or visit near our home. But I also remember, as a family of seven (five kids) living in a one room motel-like unit for about a year, planting watermelon seeds outside, in a 'garden' my sister and I dug up with a soup spoon. Surely, we didn't 'garden' because we cared as 10- and 5-year olds about 'improving' the landscape of this gravel-covered 'yard'. I don't know what we wanted - to see something grow, to see results of planting seeds, to nurture something? We had seldom been really attached to a neighborhood. Perhaps we were seeking that attachment to something outside of the way we hid ourselves from 'normal' people?
I can see this - the lack of attachment - in some of my neighbors. Next door there are those who visit on the porch and have somewhat of a connection to people who walk by. Then there are those who simply walk from their door, to the waiting car, and they casually toss their garbage over the fence and into our yard. I ask myself, how welcoming are people who own homes in my neighborhood...the block group that existed some years ago was made up only of a few homeowners...by invitation...that was also their 'national night out'. I often would hear renters as a group, disparaged at neighborhood meetings. I would hope it's 'only' because the persons speaking had in their minds a specific behavior they were attaching to a group and they were so focused in their anger, they couldn't see beyond. I had said at one meeting that if they substituted 'Black' or 'Asian', they could be accused of racism.
Perhaps if our district or neighbors offered to help disenfranchised renters to set up a raised garden or encouraged the landlord/property owner to do some landscaping (this instead of always calling Code Enforcement or not contacting the landlord. Perhaps if neighbors could look at their neighbors who could use a hand in planting, in connecting with the outside we could establish better relationships and build a community. Community = caring about your neighbor, not just your friends. Community = extending yourself. Community = building from within, one to one relationships and spreading to include others.
sh 4/10/2000
Friday, March 26, 2010
Who are we?
This sickens me:
In a wooded area of Mounds Boulevard, off Seventh Street, and near where I work, a homeless camp must have been spotted and called in to the City. Within a short day's time (much less time than Child Protection or Code Enforcement was out to get a window screen repaired or stop the young child from leaning out the two story window), the camp was razed - bulldozed.
A 'blight' it is called, on our lovely lower Dayton's Bluff. DAMN! The blight is on the people of this neighborhood and city who refuse to look at the growing number of homeless INDIVIDUALS as human beings. I know some of the men who camp out - Dorothy Day and the Mission become too crowded, too many personalities under stress, and sometimes just no room. I've pointed out a couple places they could sleep outside. Damn!
Carl, one who had camped out for at least two years, finally got housing through the housing for homeless individuals program. He referred to his big back pack as his 'home', his house. He told the police that they could not search his home without a warrant. WOW! To the bulldozer and city, these homes were nothing more than garbage.
God, I feel so angry.
A couple years ago a person from our community council told me with no uncertainty, "we work with buildings, not people!" There are times that I don't think I belong here.
I have become wary of being specific to certain issues - instead of enhancing and finding solutions for those who are making do, our city, on many layers, further makes life hell for those who have little or nothing. 'No, we're not trying to regentrify'. ROT!! How inhumane can the good people of Dayton's Bluff be?
Last year at a meeting with someone from the Mayor's office and Youth Services, a friend and I mentioned how great it was that a group of people in one neighborhood put up a portable basketball hoop - because the city refused to place a basketball hoop or court in the huge rec center play area across the street (too much noise). Within the week the city had it removed. (illegal to have it in the street - it took up less space than a car, and it was in front of a park, not a residence).
What if these men (I know there are women, also who camp, and teens) became faces? Not photos, but snapshots of who they are, and how they came to be in such a situation? For the brief time I had to stay in the hostel and knew no one here, I can speak to being 'invisible' among humanity, and living basically out of a backpack. But at least I was sure of having a bed at night among 8 other women.
Steve, the homeless man I worked with on Tuesday, now will be getting an apartment (we worked it through with his doctor and housing admin who had been screaming at him. Also, I connected him with a friend in District 5 who can pay him for helping to clean Payne Ave. this weekend.
EVERY HUMAN BEING HAS A FACE, A PERSONALITY, A HISTORY, A STORY. ARE PEOPLE AFRAID OF THE UNKNOWN? WHERE IS THE HUMANITY!!!!
Don't give me the crap about camps being festering places of crime, disease, etc. We are our own festering diseases of the heart and soul!
In a wooded area of Mounds Boulevard, off Seventh Street, and near where I work, a homeless camp must have been spotted and called in to the City. Within a short day's time (much less time than Child Protection or Code Enforcement was out to get a window screen repaired or stop the young child from leaning out the two story window), the camp was razed - bulldozed.
A 'blight' it is called, on our lovely lower Dayton's Bluff. DAMN! The blight is on the people of this neighborhood and city who refuse to look at the growing number of homeless INDIVIDUALS as human beings. I know some of the men who camp out - Dorothy Day and the Mission become too crowded, too many personalities under stress, and sometimes just no room. I've pointed out a couple places they could sleep outside. Damn!
Carl, one who had camped out for at least two years, finally got housing through the housing for homeless individuals program. He referred to his big back pack as his 'home', his house. He told the police that they could not search his home without a warrant. WOW! To the bulldozer and city, these homes were nothing more than garbage.
God, I feel so angry.
A couple years ago a person from our community council told me with no uncertainty, "we work with buildings, not people!" There are times that I don't think I belong here.
I have become wary of being specific to certain issues - instead of enhancing and finding solutions for those who are making do, our city, on many layers, further makes life hell for those who have little or nothing. 'No, we're not trying to regentrify'. ROT!! How inhumane can the good people of Dayton's Bluff be?
Last year at a meeting with someone from the Mayor's office and Youth Services, a friend and I mentioned how great it was that a group of people in one neighborhood put up a portable basketball hoop - because the city refused to place a basketball hoop or court in the huge rec center play area across the street (too much noise). Within the week the city had it removed. (illegal to have it in the street - it took up less space than a car, and it was in front of a park, not a residence).
What if these men (I know there are women, also who camp, and teens) became faces? Not photos, but snapshots of who they are, and how they came to be in such a situation? For the brief time I had to stay in the hostel and knew no one here, I can speak to being 'invisible' among humanity, and living basically out of a backpack. But at least I was sure of having a bed at night among 8 other women.
Steve, the homeless man I worked with on Tuesday, now will be getting an apartment (we worked it through with his doctor and housing admin who had been screaming at him. Also, I connected him with a friend in District 5 who can pay him for helping to clean Payne Ave. this weekend.
EVERY HUMAN BEING HAS A FACE, A PERSONALITY, A HISTORY, A STORY. ARE PEOPLE AFRAID OF THE UNKNOWN? WHERE IS THE HUMANITY!!!!
Don't give me the crap about camps being festering places of crime, disease, etc. We are our own festering diseases of the heart and soul!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It was a good weekend
Sam and Stephen came for a visit last Thursday and left on Saturday. What an awesome man Sam is! I love his humor and his spontaniety; I appreciate his insight and his knowledge. After I picked him up at the airport we drove over to the MIA to see the 2010 Foot in the Door exhibit. I have a piece in the show and it was fun to see it.
Steve drove in later that day and then we went to the talk that August Hoffman gave for our Dayton's Bluff District Council. That was very interesting and we had a nice group with lively interaction. Several people from the Payne area/Polly's Cove people came...they are very involved with the combination of people and gardens. Too many people in my district seem more focused on buildings than on people.
Sam 'allowed' me to hold a party for him and Stephen. I talk so much about my neighborhood to Sam and to my neighborhood about Sam, that I wanted them to meet each other. About thirty friends and several came over the next day. I was tired and Sam was tired afterward, but I thank Sam and Stephen that they went along with it. Besides I love cooking, especially appetizers! I always thought it would be great to have a catering business doing appetizers and desserts. I'm still exhausted, but very happy.
Friday we visited the Museum of Russian Art - always an excellent exhibit there. Went to Manana's for a Salvadorean lunch, Mickey's Diner for a greasy breakfast, and Bahmani's for a late Kurdish supper. It was a very good weekend.
Steve drove in later that day and then we went to the talk that August Hoffman gave for our Dayton's Bluff District Council. That was very interesting and we had a nice group with lively interaction. Several people from the Payne area/Polly's Cove people came...they are very involved with the combination of people and gardens. Too many people in my district seem more focused on buildings than on people.
Sam 'allowed' me to hold a party for him and Stephen. I talk so much about my neighborhood to Sam and to my neighborhood about Sam, that I wanted them to meet each other. About thirty friends and several came over the next day. I was tired and Sam was tired afterward, but I thank Sam and Stephen that they went along with it. Besides I love cooking, especially appetizers! I always thought it would be great to have a catering business doing appetizers and desserts. I'm still exhausted, but very happy.
Friday we visited the Museum of Russian Art - always an excellent exhibit there. Went to Manana's for a Salvadorean lunch, Mickey's Diner for a greasy breakfast, and Bahmani's for a late Kurdish supper. It was a very good weekend.
Monday, February 8, 2010
OOps!
Today I took part in a dialog of what our community means to us. In preliminary conversations I heard 'what would you change', 'what don't you like', as well as what are the reasons you like living here. Unfortunately, I didn't just say nice, smiley things about the area. My social justice side came out when I talked about regentrification and the negative aspects renters are cloaked with. WHY CAN'T I JUST SKIM THE SURFACE and say everything nice with a smile?!! It's not lying, it's just presenting one part of a truth. I have a trunk full of racial/social justice, equality in housing, political signs...I left the physical signs there, but couldn't leave the message. I would never make a tactful politician. I couldn't play with the words fast enough. At least they can cut that part of my comments. Sorry, Ed.
Then I got to thinking...about tone and wording when talking about something like housing or economics in a community meeting. I hear, 'too often' the tone of: we're inclusive and we love/appreciate/cherish the diversity (race, ethnicity, education, income, life style). Unfortunately, too often this translates to we 'tolerate'; we want it as long as 'it' is in the same class (economically, educationally, income) as we are - upper middle to upper. Note, I said 'too often'. I also wonder how many times someone uses phrases without realizing how they sound. I have been SO guilty.
I'm off on a tangent, with little sense to it. I get frustrated with what is said versus the actions that evolve. Time to rest.
Then I got to thinking...about tone and wording when talking about something like housing or economics in a community meeting. I hear, 'too often' the tone of: we're inclusive and we love/appreciate/cherish the diversity (race, ethnicity, education, income, life style). Unfortunately, too often this translates to we 'tolerate'; we want it as long as 'it' is in the same class (economically, educationally, income) as we are - upper middle to upper. Note, I said 'too often'. I also wonder how many times someone uses phrases without realizing how they sound. I have been SO guilty.
I'm off on a tangent, with little sense to it. I get frustrated with what is said versus the actions that evolve. Time to rest.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
From St. Paul Pioneer Press, Sunday 1/24/2010 READERS RECALL THE PLAY THAT CHANGED THEIR LIVES, By Dominic P. Papatola
I enjoy being onstage but have performed only minor parts in school plays and some poetry and speech recitations. Twelve years ago, while in college, I performed in a black-box evening. I did a condensed version of Lily Tomlin's "The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe." The audience was in complete darkness and quiet. Then, at one point, the entire audience erupted in laughter. It seemed as if I stopped and took it all in. ... I remember how their full, united laughter filled me with such great joy and surprise, as if I had been handed a tremendous gift!
for full article: http://www.twincities.com/ci_14240372
for full article: http://www.twincities.com/ci_14240372
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