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
Showing posts with label Fourth and Bates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fourth and Bates. Show all posts
Friday, November 4, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A few bits and pieces
I have no idea how anyone could be bored or have 'nothing to do'. I would at first say that it's especially living in St. Paul, or as Sam would know, living in NYC. But even when I lived in Iowa, unemployed at first and knowing absolutely no one, once fixing a schedule to keep me sane, I could always find something to do.
I have an occasional downstairs neighbor who comments 'do you EVER sleep?' Well, yes, but have you ever been in bed, sometimes awaken with a great idea and just have to start putting it into place?
The last few months have been very busy. I was thinking I'd have a few quiet months before summer, but not so. I have learned so much about the St. Paul city CIB program; I'll write the process I've learned in a different blog. It went from something with many attached misconceptions on my part, to quickly writing a proposal, to seeing how the community task force works, to planning a neighborhood workshop so other people have the information I didn't.
Neighborhood kids have visited more this winter than last; I've learned more about bicycles than I ever thought I would; the girls want a mostly girls summer. I don't know - girls are so high maintenance. Boys can be a little bit crude at times, but they are so much easier going.
I have been away from Door County for way too long and need to visit very soon. My brakes need work and I need a little money to do that.
I need to visit with Aunt Cleo. I miss her. I need to at least call soon. I need to write more letters to everyone.
Thursday evening, Murphy, four now? said we need to do some street clean-up. I had been thinking that too, Murph. So Friday I picked up a rake and some garbage bags. From almost 6pm to about 9, Kari, Kate, Murph, Abigail, Alma, Francisco, Jesus, Sam, Jose, KayLynn (sp) Jeff and I raked, swept, scooped and picked up. We filled, what, six big garbage bags and 12 big orange city bags. When the street sweepers come in a week or two, their job will be so much easier and less waste will enter the sewer to the Mississippi. I was achy, but it felt so satisfying.
Then Kate's brother and uncle had grilled ribs and chicken for a nice late supper, and a visit with Kate, Mel, Jill and some wine...a nice evening.
The next day, Saturday, was the City DFL endorsing convention. I couldn't get the kids to go. I thought they might enjoy it. I've always loved the DFL process. This morning I kept my apheresis appointment, but the nurse said she nicked the vein, tried to move it around, but the clotting had already begun; tried another vein, couldn't get any saline in. The bruise is forming, and none of us thought to go to a one-needle apheresis instead of my usual two. I'll make another appointment when the bruise heals. It did open two hours for me this morning. I went to Byerly's for lemon ricotta pancakes...lovely.
I have an occasional downstairs neighbor who comments 'do you EVER sleep?' Well, yes, but have you ever been in bed, sometimes awaken with a great idea and just have to start putting it into place?
The last few months have been very busy. I was thinking I'd have a few quiet months before summer, but not so. I have learned so much about the St. Paul city CIB program; I'll write the process I've learned in a different blog. It went from something with many attached misconceptions on my part, to quickly writing a proposal, to seeing how the community task force works, to planning a neighborhood workshop so other people have the information I didn't.
Neighborhood kids have visited more this winter than last; I've learned more about bicycles than I ever thought I would; the girls want a mostly girls summer. I don't know - girls are so high maintenance. Boys can be a little bit crude at times, but they are so much easier going.
I have been away from Door County for way too long and need to visit very soon. My brakes need work and I need a little money to do that.
I need to visit with Aunt Cleo. I miss her. I need to at least call soon. I need to write more letters to everyone.
Thursday evening, Murphy, four now? said we need to do some street clean-up. I had been thinking that too, Murph. So Friday I picked up a rake and some garbage bags. From almost 6pm to about 9, Kari, Kate, Murph, Abigail, Alma, Francisco, Jesus, Sam, Jose, KayLynn (sp) Jeff and I raked, swept, scooped and picked up. We filled, what, six big garbage bags and 12 big orange city bags. When the street sweepers come in a week or two, their job will be so much easier and less waste will enter the sewer to the Mississippi. I was achy, but it felt so satisfying.
Then Kate's brother and uncle had grilled ribs and chicken for a nice late supper, and a visit with Kate, Mel, Jill and some wine...a nice evening.
The next day, Saturday, was the City DFL endorsing convention. I couldn't get the kids to go. I thought they might enjoy it. I've always loved the DFL process. This morning I kept my apheresis appointment, but the nurse said she nicked the vein, tried to move it around, but the clotting had already begun; tried another vein, couldn't get any saline in. The bruise is forming, and none of us thought to go to a one-needle apheresis instead of my usual two. I'll make another appointment when the bruise heals. It did open two hours for me this morning. I went to Byerly's for lemon ricotta pancakes...lovely.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Saturday Workshop
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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A Season for Grieving
I was just upstairs and a library patron talked about the suddenness in the weather change. It dawned on me that I'm grieving for the passing summer. Autumn, with its coolness, brisk wind, and color had always been my favorite season. Since Sunday when the chill seemed to claim a permanence, I've felt a bit low and sad.
With that brief conversation, I realized it's not the weather that is affecting me, but the fact that it means no more frequent porch gatherings or movies. Certainly, I'll enjoy get togethers with friends in coffee shops and spontaneous meetings, but I've found it's not the same. Two years ago I didn't enjoy going home as much as I have the last year. I've so fully embraced the character of my neighborhood and I've come to cherish it.
I'll miss the kids riding their bikes and anything else with wheels. I'll miss their just stopping by, coming up on the porch, sometimes wordlessly and then quietly disappearing; at other times they'll engage in conversations or pull out a board game. Where can we gather when the porch isn't warm enough? Kids are why we must take care of our neighborhoods.
Of course, I want the color of beautiful flowers, the peace of no loud mufflers or the stress of a screech or squeal of a car in the intersection, the sound of a bottle being thrown from a car window to the breaking point of hitting the pavement. I've known pure beauty and I've known evil. But the kids are at a starting point in life...and they ARE our kids.
With that brief conversation, I realized it's not the weather that is affecting me, but the fact that it means no more frequent porch gatherings or movies. Certainly, I'll enjoy get togethers with friends in coffee shops and spontaneous meetings, but I've found it's not the same. Two years ago I didn't enjoy going home as much as I have the last year. I've so fully embraced the character of my neighborhood and I've come to cherish it.
I'll miss the kids riding their bikes and anything else with wheels. I'll miss their just stopping by, coming up on the porch, sometimes wordlessly and then quietly disappearing; at other times they'll engage in conversations or pull out a board game. Where can we gather when the porch isn't warm enough? Kids are why we must take care of our neighborhoods.
Of course, I want the color of beautiful flowers, the peace of no loud mufflers or the stress of a screech or squeal of a car in the intersection, the sound of a bottle being thrown from a car window to the breaking point of hitting the pavement. I've known pure beauty and I've known evil. But the kids are at a starting point in life...and they ARE our kids.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Mostly it was a pleasant weekend
It was a pleasant weekend. I had loads of energy after work on Friday and attacked the messiness in my bedroom....dust on furniture, dragged out 'things' stored under the bed...in the process of cleaning one room, I made a mess of two others as the found and moved items make their way to other storage spots, to Goodwill, etc., or to the trash. K and the boys played video games on the porch, using the projector.
Saturday, three of the kids stopped up to play a board game while it was still warm and light; then Kira stopped with a fundraiser for her school.
Movies with kids and neighbors on Friday and Saturday. The kids were really wound up on Friday night. We all chattered, teased, and talked more than watched any movie. On Saturday we all watched the old version of Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
Sunday, no kids. Ariel came over to talk and borrowed a library book, we caught up on making connections for her signing lessons. I had been sorting through my 33Lps and 78s, needing to get rid of some (any takers?); Ariel had never seen a turn table/ record player. It was fun to introduce her to one, along with some 60s folk music! Then B and I decided to make popcorn and watch 'The Way We Were'. Besides the draw of Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand, I had forgotten how I liked the story itself. We bundled up in quilts, heavy socks and I ate popcorn for supper.
I still think using 321 Bates as a drop-in center for kids would be a better use of property than the problem property it's been all the years I've lived across from it. That, or tear it down for green space/play area for kids.
Saturday B called the police for a domestic fight across the street and then in the evening with all the kids, we saw a man stop and publicly urinate. Sometimes I can give leeway, depending on...whatever, I don't know. I blew up on this one...ran out to him -there were four other people in his car. He was a big guy, towel around his neck, bling; after I told him no public urination and he told me I was harassing him, I followed him to his car and called him, several times, a pig. Of course, he blew me off. I stood in front of his car to get the plate number. The car is one that frequents our neighborhood, goes through stop signs, and speeds, but a police check (they came very quickly) noted the car is not from our neighborhood. The kids were worried that the driver was going to run into me, as he drove forward when I was getting the plate number, but he wouldn't have done that. That's the third public urination in about three months. WHY such pigs?! The last was broad daylight - two males visiting across the street...and I was on the porch at the time!
Saturday, three of the kids stopped up to play a board game while it was still warm and light; then Kira stopped with a fundraiser for her school.
Movies with kids and neighbors on Friday and Saturday. The kids were really wound up on Friday night. We all chattered, teased, and talked more than watched any movie. On Saturday we all watched the old version of Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
Sunday, no kids. Ariel came over to talk and borrowed a library book, we caught up on making connections for her signing lessons. I had been sorting through my 33Lps and 78s, needing to get rid of some (any takers?); Ariel had never seen a turn table/ record player. It was fun to introduce her to one, along with some 60s folk music! Then B and I decided to make popcorn and watch 'The Way We Were'. Besides the draw of Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand, I had forgotten how I liked the story itself. We bundled up in quilts, heavy socks and I ate popcorn for supper.
I still think using 321 Bates as a drop-in center for kids would be a better use of property than the problem property it's been all the years I've lived across from it. That, or tear it down for green space/play area for kids.
Saturday B called the police for a domestic fight across the street and then in the evening with all the kids, we saw a man stop and publicly urinate. Sometimes I can give leeway, depending on...whatever, I don't know. I blew up on this one...ran out to him -there were four other people in his car. He was a big guy, towel around his neck, bling; after I told him no public urination and he told me I was harassing him, I followed him to his car and called him, several times, a pig. Of course, he blew me off. I stood in front of his car to get the plate number. The car is one that frequents our neighborhood, goes through stop signs, and speeds, but a police check (they came very quickly) noted the car is not from our neighborhood. The kids were worried that the driver was going to run into me, as he drove forward when I was getting the plate number, but he wouldn't have done that. That's the third public urination in about three months. WHY such pigs?! The last was broad daylight - two males visiting across the street...and I was on the porch at the time!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Porchtalk
Errands after work, then a fundraiser luau for Vallay Moua, then home shortly after 8 tonight. I brought the projector home, and sure enough, as I walked from the car to the porch, Cesar rode over and asked about movies. He and F came up to the porch and then Bonni and Kyle came out. Though Cesar brought up movies several times, I much enjoyed that the five of us talked until 11:00 about the boys' first week at school. For F, it has included another student pouring alcohol or perfume on his shirt and being called into the principal's office, a friend being shot by a bb gun at school, being offered coke, another student getting into his locker and tearing up earned 'money' that goes toward a field trip, and a number of other events and interactions.
Cesar, with his smile that lights up the darkness, attends a different school and seems to really like it. I worry about F. He said he has a gym teacher who helps with his English, so perhaps he's found a bit of an anchor there. We talked with him about building a relationship with at least one teacher with whom he could talk.
The boys talked, too, about some of the relationships among neighborhood kids. With tonight's conversation and the one I had on the street two days ago with a number of the kids, some of what I've been seeing and hearing comes together.
As Kyle said later, it's great that the kids can come and talk with people of different ages. It's true....hard to say who gets the most from it. From the seriousness of school, to what they're learning in sex education, to the boys pretending to see a rodent (I think they were pretending), to confiding about bike thefts and neighborhood dramas, to Cesar feeling comfortable enough to know that he could dip into the candy machine from the top while I was filling it, and to the laughing about silly stories from three generations. Tonight was a very special gem. And tomorrow, Cesar and I may go to see if we can find the turkeys that roam behind the library...and there's talk about playing dodge ball...the question is, will Bonni give up Barack Obama for an afternoon of dodge ball?
Cesar, with his smile that lights up the darkness, attends a different school and seems to really like it. I worry about F. He said he has a gym teacher who helps with his English, so perhaps he's found a bit of an anchor there. We talked with him about building a relationship with at least one teacher with whom he could talk.
The boys talked, too, about some of the relationships among neighborhood kids. With tonight's conversation and the one I had on the street two days ago with a number of the kids, some of what I've been seeing and hearing comes together.
As Kyle said later, it's great that the kids can come and talk with people of different ages. It's true....hard to say who gets the most from it. From the seriousness of school, to what they're learning in sex education, to the boys pretending to see a rodent (I think they were pretending), to confiding about bike thefts and neighborhood dramas, to Cesar feeling comfortable enough to know that he could dip into the candy machine from the top while I was filling it, and to the laughing about silly stories from three generations. Tonight was a very special gem. And tomorrow, Cesar and I may go to see if we can find the turkeys that roam behind the library...and there's talk about playing dodge ball...the question is, will Bonni give up Barack Obama for an afternoon of dodge ball?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
I'm so blessed, I could burst!
We had great interest and turnout for the city-owned vacant house tour today and Tuesday. It took me 35 minutes to walk from work to my house tonight....and for reasons I treasure. Neighbors take time to talk and to exchange news. My friend, Linda M. gave me two lovely tomatoes from her garden and shared a continuing story about her once lost cat and some neighborhood activity that surrounds the adventure. At the end of the story is a thank you note that the boys wrote on their own, to Linda. It's a bit involved, but this is a reflection of relationships in our neighborhood, between kids and adults.
Linda had given me, several weeks ago, a lovely, unusual plant. Two of our boys helped us plant it and set stone around it. Then Linda gave their mothers cut flowers and a potted plant. During the following two weeks when our weather was so dry, another neighbor told me that the boys had been carrying water over to water my plant (our plant).
Wednesday when I got home, I found a stack of beautiful postcards of Europe and Egypt. I noticed one had been addressed to Linda and called her to thank her. She told me that they were given to me by Firmen, who had received them from Linda. He knows my love for art , books, etc. and left them for me.
And then when I got home tonight after hosting the open house, I found more tomatoes from another friend. Linda C. and I shared fresh tomato wedges, olive oil, French bread fresh from Toast to Bread, and iced tea.
Many if not most people who work for the city and make daily decisions about our neighborhood and people who make the regulations for houses and streets in Dayton's Bluff don't live here. It is not enough to drive through or even walk through once or twice and think they 'know' the neighborhood. No one will know the flavor, the personality, or the heart of our neighborhood unless they make a few porch visits with us.
Think of the times you've been so happy, or so filled with pleasure that you feel you could burst, or blurt out you happiness so loud in public. That is what I feel for where I live and the people around me. I am so blessed.
Linda had given me, several weeks ago, a lovely, unusual plant. Two of our boys helped us plant it and set stone around it. Then Linda gave their mothers cut flowers and a potted plant. During the following two weeks when our weather was so dry, another neighbor told me that the boys had been carrying water over to water my plant (our plant).
Wednesday when I got home, I found a stack of beautiful postcards of Europe and Egypt. I noticed one had been addressed to Linda and called her to thank her. She told me that they were given to me by Firmen, who had received them from Linda. He knows my love for art , books, etc. and left them for me.
And then when I got home tonight after hosting the open house, I found more tomatoes from another friend. Linda C. and I shared fresh tomato wedges, olive oil, French bread fresh from Toast to Bread, and iced tea.
Many if not most people who work for the city and make daily decisions about our neighborhood and people who make the regulations for houses and streets in Dayton's Bluff don't live here. It is not enough to drive through or even walk through once or twice and think they 'know' the neighborhood. No one will know the flavor, the personality, or the heart of our neighborhood unless they make a few porch visits with us.
Think of the times you've been so happy, or so filled with pleasure that you feel you could burst, or blurt out you happiness so loud in public. That is what I feel for where I live and the people around me. I am so blessed.
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