Recognizing Neighborhood Rankism

View From My Porch

True or false? Most men and women will agree that sexism continues in one degree or another. True or false? Racism flourishes no matter how many letters to the editor, anti-racism workshops, or directly challenging another’s actions or words - how does one get inside another’s head or soul?

Now, consider ‘rankism’. Rankism, as described by Robert W. Fuller, the coiner of the term, is “using one’s real or perceived power to hold the balance of power in a relationship”. In the context of a neighborhood, a person might translate simple social position into power. It might be the person who has been a resident for the longest time; a  homeowner over a renter; a resident who participates in community activities over one who doesn’t;  a child whose toys are boxed, spendy, and off the shelf rather than makeshift or  built from scraps; a privileged youth  (whose free time consists of travel, leisure and organized/costly sports) assumes or is given the role of ’boss’ over other youths (most often youths of color), whose  free time is spent working to supplement the family income; the person with a college education over the one who didn’t finish high school; the person who ‘knows’ and uses governmental ‘connections’ over the neighbor who barely makes it through life’s system and tends to avoid anyone ‘official’. The list continues. Some of these examples can be labeled as classism; some, upon closer examination, as racism. Rankism encompasses virtually all other ‘-isms’ and can help introduce the other ‘-isms’ into conversation with less fire than perhaps  racism, which needs to be faced, but creates eerie quiet or spitting anger when brought up in most conversation.

Robert W. Fuller, author of Somebodies and Nobodies states: “Rankism is

what people who take themselves for ‘somebodies’ do to those they mistake

for ‘nobodies’." Whether directed at an individual or a group, rankism aims

to put targets in their place and keep them weak so they will do as they're told

and submit to being taken advantage of.”  

Not wanting to see a ‘problem’ where there isn’t any, yet seeing a system that rankled me, I talked with a colleague whose career and personal life are steeped in addressing and examining racism, classism, relationships, attitudes, and systems.

In the case of youths: my hope is that parents who recognize that their children are privileged, whether by color of skin,education, or economic status and the luxury of costly or fee-based extracurricular activities, or easily replacing a stolen bike instead of having to rebuild one from parts; that these parents will teach not only ‘tolerance’ (whatever that means) but also why their children are very fortunate to take for granted what others must eke out; why they have access to and can expect financial/time based activities. My hope is that parents - ALL parents - teach their children that when they do live a privileged life with its benefits, that the children share the gifts of privilege much as they might share their toys: if privilege assumes being ‘boss’, share that role; if it is the gift of a job that you neither need nor want, share the opportunity; if you have more off-the-shelf toys than you need, stash them away (or give away) and experience playing only with the cardboard box.  Last, do all this unconditionally and without the pride of being ‘tolerant’. Do it with the knowledge that life often offers some a bigger stage than it offer others....share that stage.

Do it without the arrogance of ‘tolerance’.

As often happens when I question behaviors in a ‘system’, I end up challenging my own beliefs and actions. I was reminded that the beauty and truth of a youth having to build his bike from parts, or making the cardboard box the all-purpose toy: playhouse/fort/sled/ dollhouse/airport, or finding jobs through his or her own inventiveness and resourcefulness does not make one ‘disadvantaged’. That youth may not be the most privileged as societally defined, but certainly is one apt to have learned resourcefulness and creativity and to find and name his or her own success because of recognizing what defines tolerance, entitlement, privilege, and being named ‘the other’. I look forward to knowing that person when he or she is an adult. As always, youth in our neighborhood open my eyes and teach with great depth.

sage holben 3/2013

Privacy of the Poor

“Anguish...anguish is the only way I can describe it.” That was my answer to the Ramsey County dispatch on a hot summer night in describing the sounds emanating from the nearby building. It was one of those calls I teetered with - do I call or not? On the one hand, it could be someone who had been physically hurt...a woman? a child?...I couldn’t distinguish which. Could it be a child alone? In fear? Could it be a woman trying to stifle the wails caused by a lovers’ argument?
Like so many old buildings these small apartments had no air conditioning. Windows open directly onto the street, inviting the immediate world to share in whatever life is dealing to the inhabitants at the moment. At that moment, I thought how unfair and humiliating life had to be for those who didn’t enjoy the privacy and emotional safety of a private home, set back from the sidewalk with trees, grass and shrubs to filter and separate street noise and life from within what should be personal space.
True, sound can carry from any house if loud or piercing enough. But for apartments stacked on top of each other, often crammed with too many people or excessive energy, no air conditioning to muffle sounds or cool the interior, sounds of personal conversation, sex, sobbing, and family arguments waft or even leap into public domain. On this night, the sounds stopped and I called back to dispatch to cancel the call; dispatch indicated it was my decision on whether to cancel or not. What does ‘stopped’ mean? That someone died, fell asleep? I opted to cancel, being of the mind that someone had been emotionally hurting, not physically harmed; and though I was unable to offer comfort to the unknown person, neither would I encourage the intrusion of police banging at the secured door and possible embarrassment to the tenant. Privacy works the other way, also.
I recall last year, dozens of mourners gathered on the corner opposite me, grieving for a young man killed in our intersection. For many nights the families within an apartment building were separated by only a thin wall from the angry talk, drinking, grieving, mournful murmuring, shouting, and the occasional smashed bottle. All this was taking place just inches on the outer side of their window. Some who were within had already lived through their own hell of death, shooting, and the unknown. As unwilling prisoners in their own apartment, were they now reliving nightmares?
I’ve recently come across several articles referring to ‘privacy of the poor’ in terms of data privacy. Important, yes. However, it’s the daily humiliations that erode our spirits. What can we do?

sh 11/2012 (published in Dayton's Bluff District Forum)
,

VIEW FROM MY PORCH - "Look Beyond the Blue"

St. Paul Police Department, on Wednesday, March 7, graduated the 18th session of its Citizen Police Academy (CPA). I’m proud to say I am one of the new graduates. The academy, funded
by the Chief’s own budget, offers St. Paul residents, age 21 and older, an opportunity to receive a micro version of officer training. It’s interesting to learn of other participants’ experiences and expectations as the course evolves.The ultimate goal is that the participant will gain knowledge of an officer’s training; a better understanding of policies and procedures that govern the actions of St. Paul police officers; and for the department to gain a better perspective of issues important to residents and to open communication between the department and residents. Additionally, for residents who wish to serve on the SPP Citizen Internal Affairs Review Commission, CPA participation is a prerequisite. Many opportunities for volunteer involvement are available for youth and adults and do not require Citizen Police Academy training. A call to Don Luna at 651-266-5583 or e-mail at don.luna@ci.stpaul.mn.us will start the step to registering for a future CPA or for one of the many other opportunities.


A visit to the SPPD website will give a listing of class sessions (6:30-9:30 for 11 Wednesday evenings). Our instructors were officers and leaders in their fields. Classes included learning the why and how of carrying out actions; how policies are applied; how and when force is applied, defensive tactics; making the decision of when to shoot or not to shoot; patrol and criminal investigation procedures; dispelling the NCI crime lab myths and learning the realities; bike and horse patrol, ordinance disposal (includes bombs); community policing, SWAT, Internal Affairs, narcotics and gangs, and so much more! Classroom teaching always had ample time for questions and answers. 


Of course, ‘hands-on’ training was the most fun! Like kids of all ages, we like to be active and display what we learn! We spent time on the training room mats working our way through scenarios common to officers who have to make split second decisions when interacting with a person and the real threats involved. It’s not like TV, folks! We used laser guns to test our ‘shoot/don’t shoot’ reactions to scenarios based on real life events. I learned quite a bit about myself and how quickly I do or don’t react in shooting someone. We learned techniques in using the baton on someone threatening us, and physical  tactical maneuvers using only our body parts. I will have to admit, my favorite sessions were on the gun range, firing an M-16, and the taser session. I was tased with three different methods. (I love being in the library and saying “I was tased three times” as someone walks by. I wonder what they think as they give me a surprised look). A note to others: this is all volunteer and each person decides whether s/he wants to physically participate in an activity.   Truthfully, the most frightening part of this was being fingerprinted. I felt as if I were giving up a part of myself.  I got over the tasing, but not the fingerprinting.


The title of this piece is important to me. Throughout our sessions we were building relationships. We also were receiving and sharing some insight and getting to know the human side of people who sometimes appear as never smiling, iron-clad robots. I’ll never forget my feelings during the RNC as I walked the downtown streets and many times faced what appeared to be four or five Darth Vadars who appeared ready to lunge at me given the slightest threat. It’ll probably happen again in my lifetime. However, at our last class session was an officer who shared why he chose this profession. Like so many, though certainly, not all, he wears the blue because he wanted to make a positive difference in people’s lives. I am glad to say that I have met many, many St Paul police who make a positive difference and only two or three who have made a negative impression. This officer encouraged us to remember we are all human; have good days and bad days. We don’t know what’s happened in another’s life just before our paths cross, but we can keep a positive perspective if we, ‘look beyond the Blue’ and see the person.


Don Luna, I hope your phone doesn’t stop ringing with requests to participate in CPA! Call Don at 651-266-5583 to register for a Citizen Police Academy training.


 (By Sage Holben: originally written for Dayton's Bluff District Forum neighborhood newspaper, April 2012)

View From My Porch - March Issue of Dayton's Bluff Forum

Ramsey County Judges Meet with Dayton's Bluff Community Residents

(From Dayton's Bluff District Forum neighborhood newspaper)

“When a young mother bundles up her baby to come out to a meeting on a cold and dark winter evening, I know that she has something important to say.” – Judge Lezlie Ott Marek

“We know we’re your only route to justice.” So noted St. Paul City Attorney Kim Bingham when Dayton’s Bluff Community Council hosted an unprecedented event at its monthly community meeting on February 2. Ramsey County District Court Judges Robyn Millenacker and Lezlie Marek, St. Paul East Side FORCE Commander Jill McRae, and Attorney Bingham met with 16 residents of Dayton’s Bluff to talk about residents’ experiences as crime victims in their own neighborhoods. One panel member indicated that such a meeting was unusual and indicated that too often, those who make decisions really do
not know the community in which the people most affected live. It was a listening session of respect and support.

Several residents cited break-ins of cars and homes; another of shots fired through a window. One talked movingly of being home during a break-in and feeling powerless in working through the process afterward. Breakins being much more common than being attacked, I wonder if we accept it as TOO common. After I was attacked and beaten, I was able to fairly quickly work through the report, identification, and attend court proceedings. Assistant City Attorney Anthony Tedesco and the SPPD proved extremely
supportive and responsive in providing resource information, connecting me with reconciliation services,
and keeping me updated in court appearances of ‘my’ attacker. 

As Judge Millenacker stated, “The partnership between and among law enforcement, the courts and the community is vital to forging solutions…your voices were heard and will continue to be at the forefront of my mind, and those of my fellow judges, when we are determining the consequences for those engaging in criminal behavior.”

I consider myself more fortunate a victim than someone who is a victim of a home or car break-in. An attack is close up and personal – direct. The attack on me was a rash decision and not against my ‘secure space.’ I later was able to personally meet with at least one assailant and ask questions, getting an understanding of the person who committed the crime. For the other two, for a short while, whenever I
walked into Phoenix or Rainbow, or passed the bus stop, I wondered if the Black woman and man in front of me were the same who had beaten me. I felt safe, though; safe because I had a community’s support. I felt safe to face my fears and let them go; safe to walk past the attacker’s home.

I believe having answers and knowing that the police and court process were working together gave me this sense of safety. An unsolved vehicle or home break-in doesn’t offer this same sense of closure or safety. Through her directness in our dialogue, Commander McRae conveyed her understanding of our concerns. I personally believe that our voices were heard at this meeting and our experiences seen as those that affect lives, not simply numbers for statistics. It seems appropriate to close with a comment from Judge Marek: “Please know that we listened closely to your stories about how crime in your neighborhood is eroding the sense of safety and peace that every citizen has the right to expect where they live and work and raise their families. The stories made a strong impression on all of us and they will help us to better perform our jobs.”

sh 2/2012

PORCH LIFE
a few steps removed

Normally, when a newspaper reports a shooting, I read the article and can only imagine what the victim’s family is experiencing. The closest I had been to a violent death was in the mid-60s, the murder/suicide by an uncle by marriage and his two young children.

My experience on Wednesday, September 26 and on the following days determined that my observations would never again be far removed. Gunshots fired at 6:30 initiated the progression of a very long week at  the corner of Fourth and Bates. From the continuous activity at the De’Koda Mar’ta Galtney memorial, to attending De’Koda’s wake and funeral service, I was more emotionally involved than I could ever have imagined. Through those several days I was blessed to briefly talk with, and exchange hugs with De’Koda’s mom, sisters, and others who lost, in De’Koda’s passing, a brother, nephew, friend, son, father. In this point of reference, the only thing that matters is that a loved one passed from this life; only that hearts are breaking and people are hurting.

Over the week and a half, I observed and heard a gamut of emotions. Some neighbors contributed food and kind words to the mourners. What disturbed me was the extreme other end of the gamut - the anger. Not anger focused on losing someone, or toward the murderer, but the anger that lashed out wildly and the more pent up anger that whined as if trying to escape from a tiny hole. - anger that came from a few people keeping vigil at the memorial and from a few people who live in the many blocks in this lower Dayton’s Bluff area. Anger, a normal emotion and feeling we sometimes encounter as we work through grief and other difficult situations. How long and how tightly we carry it , though, can destroy us and others. Words spoken in anger can cause damage long after being spoken. Words meant to intimidate or carry threats can create distrust in friends and acquaintances. What is the source of this anger? Where might it take root?

Inner anger and grief nagged me for days before I could finally identify the reasons behind my own emotions. Yes, I grieved for De’Koda’s family and friends. My heart cried every night for the young men and women across the street from my porch. I grieved for the god-uncle who came early Sunday to find the memorial in ashes. Alone on the porch, late into the night and into early mornings, I prayed silently and I sang praise songs aloud. At other times, friends came silently onto the porch just to be with me. It helped to talk through what I was seeing and feeling. But it didn’t take away the ache or the anger. I felt so useless in what I could do. Even now, tears flow.

Much of this culminated on Sunday evening as Chanelle and her and De’Koda’s precious baby. Charitie, visited on my porch with two friends and me. Seeing Chanelle and then my friend hold little Charitee solidified the concept of ‘community’ and its sometimes delicate balance.

I know a few other people may find offense with my approach or framing of these past days. Some may revert to social judgments, condemnations and stereotypes of fatherless children, lives of crime, and related spiels. This isn’t the place. This is the time and place when we ask, ‘What does a community response to such a tragedy look like?’  and ‘Who is the community?’ I hope that this could be the start of a dialogue that builds stronger relationships within a community - within a city.


(note to self: expand on this)
sage holben/originally written for Dayton's Bluff Forum, 11/2011

The Rhythm From My Porch

The Rhythm from my porch

Tire low of air, flap, flap, flap…does the driver realize he’s almost on the rim?

A ball game played in my neighbor’s yard…I’m half asleep on the porch, listening to a metal clang…the bat? A metal plate used as a base? The rhythm plays like music in its own way. I recognize Mario’s echoing laughter, and I smile…laughter with a real, a full joy in it. I hear Jose’s voice…a rather humorous lilt in how he makes his pronouncements…

 A group of wrens, massed around a ‘puddle’ of seeds fallen from a tree; they move almost as one, from the driveway apron to the drive, and then to the lilac bushes, flowers shed so long ago. As if prompted by the influx of wrens, a cardinal bursts from the bushes to a neighboring tree...one rhythmic note  affecting the other.

“F….him, I said, mother f’er….”, I heard the words, followed by laughter, words I can’t understand – is it a dialect, is it lazy speech, is it just that I don’t want to hear it…my cold eyes hold no power if the speakers don’t make eye contact with me. The raw, unwelcomed cursing is oddly rhythmic…its own music…is it?

Slap, slap, slap; rap, rap, rap; basketballs and rap music, both hitting the sidewalk. Rhythmic, too, are the glances….”Don’t look, Sage’ my 12 year old neighbor whispers to me. He’s Blood; don’t look.’ This, too, is a warning oft repeated to me. He’s Crypt, he’s Blood, He’s an 18…don’t do it, Sage.

You’re gay; am not; sure you are; laughter; some tension; the message not spoken now reveals who has been ripping on who today. You are, so I’m not. A day’s rhythm is coming to its end on the porch.  Kids are gathering, feeling safe to say what they wouldn’t on the street. We talk about ‘gay’. “You’ve met my son; he’s gay. You like him. You respect him. What’s different?

Karen boys bike by; chattering in a language we don’t understand. Marco mocks the unknown under his breath. Hey, I tell him, how was it when you came here and didn’t speak English? Did people mock your Spanish? How did you feel? The form of our conversation takes up a familiar rhythm, we’ve had it before about Hmong language and culture. It’s a rhythm that becomes, sadly, almost comfortable.

Weed wackers, lawn mowers, people calling to each other. Motors revving, missing mufflers, roaring motorcycles; planes in a no-fly zone, dismiss any shred of conversation.  Wait.

A scooter’s whirrrrrr; a Rainbow shopping cart, rumbles down the hill, child propelling child; in the background a car horn out of control, but in perfect rhythm.

And then, one Saturday morning, the world regains briefly, the rhythm of only birds, the sipping of early morning coffee, and the quiet turning of a book’s pages. I’m alone with my own rhythm.

9/2011

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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