Scuffles

When large numbers of diverse populations live in close quarters, the opportunity for disagreements heightens.  This morning, I witnessed the first one in this little village.

I have thought that the offending party might be among the first to make their way to this blog. We have been polite in our interactions thus far, but they--a couple, I'll call Rose and Barry--have a general disregard for our shared space.  They routinely hang out in the common areas of our particular unit, smoking and drinking and leaving bottles and cans in their wake. I never see Rose without a drink in hand.  I don't think I'm being too judgmental to state that they've got some issues.

This lovely Saturday morning, loud music--the sort where the bass shakes the foundations of the house and sends waves through the fish tank--started up.  Shortly thereafter, I hear both Rose and Barry sounding agitated, and I walk into the common area to see them laying into a college student standing on the balcony. She's not arguing, just absorbing their diatribe about having the right to enjoy their music.  The problem is we're not all enjoying their music.  Rose and Barry climb into their pimped out Cadillac and peel out of the parking lot.

The college student is visibly shaken, and I spend a few minutes settling her back down.  Unfortunately, though, I don't think this will be the end of this particular story.

Dancing in the Rain

The kid and I were out walking the dog after dinner tonight.  We were well into our walk when the skies opened up.  People ran for cover inside nearby stores and restaurants. We looked at each other, wondered if we should seek shelter, and simultaneously decided to keep walking. The dog clearly thinks we made the wrong decision, but we knew we would be home soon enough to dry towels and warm clothes, so why not enjoy the soaking? And we definitely enjoyed it.

We so often try to fight or flee from what the world throws at us, but every now and then, it's good to have a tangible reminder that it's okay to soak it all in, to know that there will be no catastrophic consequences. Sometimes, dancing in the rain can be soul cleansing.

TV Free

I have Internet access through our local cable company, and they routinely call me about their "bundling" services.  While the conversation varies, the questions usually run along these lines:

Cable rep: "I see you have Internet, but you don't have cable for your television. We'd like to offer you a great deal to package them."

Me: "I don't have a tv."

CR: "Yes, I see you don't have tv as part of your service.  We can provide you with a package."

Me: "I don't have a tv."

CR: "Did you say you don't have a tv?"

Me: "Correct."

CR: "Not one."

Me: "None."

CR: "Oh. Well, what about your home phone?"

Me: "Don't have that either."

CR: "Hmm.  You probably don't need our bundle then."

Me: "No, probably not."

Today's cable rep took it to a whole new level. She explained that when her family recently moved, they decided to keep televisions out of their bedrooms, but she wasn't ready to give up tv all together.  I can't blame her.  She works for a cable company.  That'd be like me giving up walking and bicycling. Sort of.

A Walkable Community...Mostly

A goat trail.

Location, location, location. One major reason for choosing this condo was the location. It is situated within ridiculously easy walking distance to my favorite hiking trails where the dog can run off leash, and I can mountain bike.  It's also easy walking distance to this area's new urbanism development, complete with movie theater, chain stores, several of my favorite restaurants, and my two favorite grocery stores.  Within easy biking distance are all the other stores I frequent.  There are only a few places I have to drive to now.  As an active transportation advocate, I derive great happiness from this.  Weird, I admit.  Especially in this community.

All of these destinations are within manageable distances, but I have said nothing about the ease in which we can do so.  Because it's not easy.  There are no sidewalks here.  We reach them eventually when we get to the newer development, but to go anywhere directly from our little village requires some dedication... and some cajones.  We're not the only ones walking.  Even though it frequently feels that way, I can tell from the goat trails around here that others rely on their feet, too.  Despite what our  transportation planners like to believe -- that there's no reason for sidewalks because no one actually walks -- all you need to do is get out of your vehicle and see the network of paths from people on foot.

One of our frequent cut throughs.

Walking to destinations provides endless adventures.  On foot, we don't need to stick to arterials.  We cut through parking lots and alleys, finding shortcuts never realized when confined to a car and zipping by at 40 mph.  We connect to our natural environment, and we find ourselves hopping or skipping just because we can. And that feels right.

Fear & Prejudice

As I reflected on my initial post, I became concerned that I sounded prejudiced.  But I forced myself to ruminate on the idea of being prejudiced.  I certainly don't consider myself to be prejudiced. I believe all humans equal.  If I'm feeling overly anthropomorphic, I'll argue that all species are equal--humans just have the upper hand for now.  But in this new village, I have met certain neighbors, and I have made snap judgments or have actually felt fear.  There is a sizable contingent of neighbors who routinely hang out, smoking and drinking in our common areas.  They're not doing anything wrong, per se, but they are affecting my space, and I feel compelled to have conversations with my daughter that I would rather not have, e.g. never going to the playground when only adults are hanging out there and certainly never going into someone else's unit unless I am with her.

Sure, some of this is common sense, but there is an element of prejudice, isn't there?  Afterall, I haven't actually had enough time to get to know my neighbors.  I've just made judgments.  Many of the folks who live in this village would be welcomed in neighborhoods in this community as long as they are working on yards, cleaning houses, or part of the street crew.  It's harsh, I know.  But is there not truth here, too?

When I think about zoning laws and ordinances, I realize that they are in place in order to control our environments, to make us feel safe and comfortable.  It is easy to say that rules and regulations are in place for our protection.  But protect us from what? The reason I come up with most frequently is from people who are different from us.

Over time, as I get to know my neighbors better, I expect to introduce these folks here. For they all have stories that I expect to be worthy of telling.  They may just need to find their voice and a medium.

Simple Cleaning

It's certainly not my intent to post multiple times in a day, but my daughter and I were just hanging out, she was putting away her laundry and then, declared she wanted to vacuum, saying, "It's great having a small house!"

I have appreciated how well she has embraced our new home, but this exceeds all expectations!

Could this smaller, simpler environment instill in her the desire and confidence to care for her space?  Do larger houses just seem overwhelming to children? It will be something to watch.

Wednesday is Wash Day

I've moved.  A lot.  I've lived in some really nice places and some far from memorable places.  Just over a year ago, I had a sizeable house in an upper-class neighborhood, with a husband, my darling daughter, my dog, cats, backyard chickens and other assorted animals depending on my daughter's whims.  It's all still very much alive in my mind.  And yet, it's all gone, and I doubt that I will have anything remotely like it again.

For now, it will suffice to say I've downsized.  As of two weeks ago, I live in a rented condo.  It's more like an apartment. It's definitely simplified living.  It's very comfortable, and it suits my needs and perhaps, more importantly, my budget.  It's not an upper-class neighborhood.  Quite the contrary. It is probably one of the more concentrated multi-family dwellings of ethnically and socio-economically diverse folks in this community.  There are undergraduate and graduate students, elderly, single, gay, white, latino, black, mixed, single-income, disability.  If it's possible in this community, it's probably in this particular complex. Well, except for white, married families.

And, overall, this is a good thing.  I feel that most of the time.  Sometimes, I have to repeat that to myself very loudly.

This blog will be a reflection of my experiences.

And today is Wednesday, and I think Wednesday will henceforth be wash day.  My unit does not have its own washer/dryer.  There is an on-site laundromat, but for some reason, I want to go to the nearest commercial laundromat.  I've never really minded laundromats.  They certainly concentrate the task of doing laundry.  I'm not sure if it's a cheaper or more environmentally-friendly option.  I have always appreciated that laundromats provided me the opportunity to mix with a segment of the population I rarely interacted with.  Except now I live with them, and I think they view me with more suspicion than I certainly feel for them.

It reminds me of a summer in high school when I traveled with 20 other kids and four chaperones from the San Francisco Bay area to Mendenhall, Mississippi.  We traveled by train to work in this racially-stressed community for a short-term missions trip.  At some point, we needed to do laundry, and so a small group of us collected dirty clothes for all two dozen of us and headed to the nearest laundromat.  This particular facility was clearly on the "black side" of town, and we were treated with jaunts from both sides.  It was a stark introduction to Southern racism for our affluent, white little troop.

Today, while waiting for my own laundry, I was working on my laptop, but stopped and got up to open the door to help an older woman out with her huge load of clean laundry. She looked surprised, and then, launched into a string of "thank you's." I simply replied, "I'm happy to help."