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.

OW! to a sore thumb and to customer service

I am so looking forward to a quiet Saturday - write some letters, research contacts for community events. In the meantime, I'm nursing a sore thumb, waiting for a doctor appointment tomorrow. This past Saturday, I had stopped to pick up coffee at a drive-thru. Two newspaper stands/boxes were set up for customers as they approach the window. My Metro sits low, so I am reaching up a bit - put in my quarters for the Saturday Minneapolis Star Tribune, pulled the handle up and reached in to get my paper. WHAM! Down came the front of the box, the edge hitting my wrist. Someone either had not secured the top latch on filling the box that morning, or someone else had broken into the money box and broken the latch.

My left hand was still in there, trying to get my paper - and WHAM! It came down again. I shoved the front up again (the newspaper door to pull out one paper opens from the bottom, but the larger front, to fill the box, and/or to empty the money box, apparently comes forward, also, hinged at the bottom).

Third time, WHAM! The front came down. This is heavy metal...and this time, I was fighting so hard with two hands to get this heavy metal door of my hand, that I started moving forward. In line to reach the window, I foolishly had not put the car in park - it's always been so easy to deposit my money and get my paper. Now, not only my wrist had been slammed again, but as I inched forward, my thumb got jammed between the door and the box base, and wouldn't pull out as I went forward. Big OW!

Working for the state, I'm accustomed to incident reports, so I went inside and told the shift manager what had happened. She nervously gave me information for their insurance company and the manager's name and store phone number. She said she would contact the Star Tribune and let them know of the problem with the box.

By the end of the day, my thumb was hard, swollen and bruised. It looked very much like a very fat, firm sausage, even with the ice I applied. Amazingly, it didn't hurt...until Monday. Still it was swollen, so I called the 24-hour nurse line for my insurance. I soon started regretting my Open Enrollment switch from Blue Cross/Blue Shield to Health Partners. The nurse line was fine. I wondered it I should wait and let the thumb play itself out. She said I should have it checked because of my health issues. She transferred me and I made an appoint to go to Como Health Partners because my clinic had no openings. An hour or so later I left work for my appointment. My cell rang on the way over, and as is my habit, I didn't answer it while driving. I checked my messages when I arrived - 'We're sorry, the doctor we scheduled you with does not see injuries. You can reschedule or go to urgent care.' I walked into the clinic and found there is no center desk for questions/directions. One can go to the pharmacy, radiology, OB and whatever is on that one area.

I went back to the vestibule with the door opening and closing, and spent several minutes on the phone, calling people inside the building! When I asked about urgent care and the cost, the person said O, yes, your insurance will cover everything. I replied how unusual that would be, so might I take her words as a contract. Then she said she wasn't really able to answer that and transferred me to one more automated call. All day long with Health Partners I was given to automated voices...I finally hung up and went back to work.

I called the Minneapolis Star Tribune and could get one person who transferred me and with that call and two others, never spoke with a human. I left two messages, one with Star Tribune Public Relations and one with 'one copy service' and Thank You, Mpls Star Tribune, for never returning my call. Thank you, Health Partners, for not answering my 'contact us' comment on your website. Thank you, poor customer service everywhere!!!

I did get a person today when I called the Wabasha clinic and I do have an appointment for tomorrow. Maybe by tomorrow I'll be able to bend my thumb and it won't be prickly or throbbing.

Second Christmas and minimizing at its best

Wow, I can't believe how long it's been since I've posted. A couple weeks ago I picked up Sam's celebration of 'Second Christmas'. Normally meant to be held on January 25, I had to do it a couple days early because of a DFL SD67 meeting. The idea is to recycle: as a potluck, food is to be leftovers, truly pot luck! The party-giver offers items s/he wants people to take home as they leave (the secret there, is to sure a lot of the attendees are YOUNG and not of the age where they are already thinning their own possessions!

Over the last few months, I had been collecting items from around the house and stashing them aside. Not one of them spoke to me to 'take me back!' Pottery, china, collectibles, jewelry was all arrayed with colorful bows and packaging...and no leftovers came back in! I have another several bags/boxes to deliver to the local thrift store (where all proceeds support a no-kill animal shelter which also gives free exams to strays.) Tommy - fomerly known as 'Duluth Bob' - had the pleasure of Animal Ark's assistance...otherwise, I don't think he could have stayed here.

It's been wonderfully freeing to pack up so many items that once had given me enjoyment and even served a purpose, but now can go on to a second, third, or fourth life. I just don't have the patience to market items on Craigslist or E-Bay. Animal Ark is a worthwhile endeavor.

I dropped some items off last week at a Goodwill store and stopped in to see what frames they might have. I didn't purchase anything, and left the store laughing. Several of the Second Christmas items were 70s Avon glassware pieces. On the shelves at Goodwill were FIVE of the blue George Washington cobalt goblet I put out; and then I saw an Avon covered butterdish I gave away years ago (well not the same one, of course). A friend of Sam once commented something to the effect that an item that may have cost $200 off the store shelf depreciates to $5 at the local thrift store. SO right!

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!

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.