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

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.

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.

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.

Murphy Shares His Hugs

My friend Murphy and I visited Como Zoo today. He's about two and a half feet shorter than I am, and decades younger, but was the best companion I could want. We rode the carousol, spent most of our time around the orangatans, sea lions and seals; Murph kept returning to them and always was interested in the babies.

Murphy is a joy to be with - so polite, offering to share his ice cream cookie and root beer. We 'toasted' the day several times at our late lunch after watching the 'Sparky' show. He remembered the birds he had seen on a previous trip with his dad, the polar bears, and then, as if he didn't already have my heart (I've known him for several years), as we were walking the path thickly lined with other visitors, Murphy stretched out his arms and spun twice, saying: "I want to hug everyone!" I followed Murphy's example, stretching my arms to catch the spirit of the people around us, spun twice and said, "We're hugging everyone!" On the way back to the car, Murphy went up to the earlier identified Russian Sage and then the brown-eyed Susans, put his face gently into each group of blossoms, outstretched arms held at the edges and said, "I'm hugging you, flowers!" Murphy's parents have taught him well, to respect and help others, to share...they've also taught him to see the world around him and the connection between the environment and people...I love looking at his face and watching his eyes filled with wonder or appreciation. On the way back to the car, Murph said he was tired. I asked if he wanted me to carry him; he opted for a horse back ride on my shoulders. We did it! Near the waterfall we saw two unicylists. He asked what they were doing and then said, "I'm riding a unicycle!"

What joy and love 'our' children teach us and share! I am ready for my nap after four wonderful hours. Murph is a sweetheart, a joy, and I thank his parents for entrusting him to me for a visit to the zoo!

Porch Talk

On several occasions I've visited different friends who live on the lakes in Minneapolis. Their condos and homes are raised and enjoy an absolutely beautiful view of the lakes and winding streets. I've found it so pleasant to be on their decks and watch the sky and water. When I visit Door County I usually stay with a friend whose home is right on the Bay. There too, I enjoy the quiet view of the water and vastness of the sky.

I've often wondered, though, at the antsy-ness I feel after five or ten minutes. I've come to realize I miss the connection of people in my view. Perhaps I'm fooling myself and could get very laid back, in the almost absolute quiet, but I'm not too sure. I have a small porch attached to my second floor apartment and I do enjoy it. It offers privacy while eating lunch, and I'm not 'available' to people unless I want to be.

But, where I really enjoy being is on the downstairs front porch. Though a bit raised off the street, it's close enough to be connected...to have a quiet level conversation with people who want to chat a bit...to exchange greetings or news with the kids riding by...to give the evil look to drivers who go through the stop sign or blast their music. It's that connection with life that I enjoy. Yes, it's sometimes stressful, but usually it's heaven.

The beauty lies in evenings like yesterday. After walking home and entering my apartment through the backdoor, I put down my bags and went to answer the front doorbell. Ariel and her sister, Keyra (sp) were there for a porch visit and pretzels...and for Ariel to show off Sophie and my artwork to her sister. As we visited, Doris, a former neighbor came by and then Ariel and Keyra treated us to signing and singing of Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston songs. Jose and Mario came up to join us.

As I was sweeping some of the sidewalk debris, seven of so of the neighborhood boys rode up now and then to give me news of Linda's missing kitten. Then two Mpls new friends stopped over and we talked creativity, neighborhood activism and changes on the porch into the dark.

I couldn't get this on a quiet deck two stories above a bike route and lake.

Our kids

Last night we were visited by a Minneapolis Trib photograper as we held our Friday movie on the porch. We showed Gran Torino (kids got permission). Kyle gave an occasional commentary to relate the action or comments so the kids could relate them to their own lives and experiences. They all stayed for the end and they'll be talking more about it when they're over later today.

When I'm asked for a description of our neighborhood, all too often I fall into the sociological or physical description...I become a parrot of those who don't live here and know it. What our neighborhood is, is the kids. They keep me grounded, they make me smile when I come home and I see them on our porch or at the fence waiting for me. Bonni is home during the day right now and has been engaging them in watercolor. Cesar, especially enjoys art...how would we have ever known? Phermin, oldest at 'almost 14' is the most shy, but opening up. Last night he giggled a lot, but didn't pull his shirt up over his face as a couple weeks before when his photograph is being taken.

Mario, Cesar's brother will follow in his brother's outgoing, confident steps, I think. Pedro is a bit quieter....Last night, Ariel finally joined us. She walks past our house very often and we've invited her up. After talking at Neighborhood Night Out, she's become a bit more open...she's a joy and I'll look forward to getting to know her.

Adrian, Brandon, and Riley all stopped by later and stayed for the end...Chris, starting eighth grade this fall, tries to be so cool...too bad he couldn't have stayed for 'Pretty in Pink' or 'Sixteen Candles' last weekend! All that young male angst...

Besides movies, we've started group video games on the porch and Jeopardy (they love the adults getting excited) with the projector.

We REALLY need our own multi-use projector to use with the DVD/VHS players and game attachments.

It's a beautiful day in my neighborhood.....