NOW Living Downtown!

NOW Living Downtown! It was just another Sunday for me-I slept late, had my coffee, took a short walk, and did some work at the computer, finishing up an article, and doing some emails-traveling a lot doesn't allow me the pleasures of long emails these days-which probably is not such a bad thing for those who receive my emails-since it was HOT again, I put off doing my errands and driving until I was heading to church-around 4pm, went to church, sat with my friend Stephanie, held some babies after church, talked with friends, made some plans for the tuesday night party, and stopped by the grocery store on the way home- one of the beautiful things about having church services on sunday evening, is that usually I can go to church, stop and do my grocery shopping for the week, and still be home and done by 7:30pm-ready to have a relaxing night to prepare me for what the following week may hold. I did some shopping for the party, paper goods, sodas, beginning to buy the cheeses, etc.- and as I came home, I considered that I may have to make more than one trip with all the bags--also, I thought about the lack of space that I would probably encounter, even in my newly restored house, with the great kitchen, with lots and lots of cabinet space, up to the ceiling, and a great pantry-= and it is just ME living in the house (and the cat)- but, the cabinets are full-filled to the brim-overflowing--with all sorts of food-I don't know why or where it got started, but, I buy food as if there is a famine approaching. If one box of rice is good, 2 boxes are better. If one jar of fat-free mayonnaise is good, then 2 will save me a trip to buy more-The origin of my food buying habits is unknown-I certainly did not grow up in a house that was ever in need of food-we had plenty, and there was always extra, and we fed other people-visiting preachers, other families, missionaries, neighborhood kids, and even fed the dogs and cats with leftover table scraps-No, the food buying binges were all my doing-(can't blame this one on my genes)-to make matters worse, I have been overweight all of my life, not morbidly, but, more than pleasantly plump, and that extra tonnage has caused me my share of health problems, from hypertensive to heart murmurs and bad knees- so, even in my periods of shame-induced deeding, I buy diet, low-Cal, nonfat items-in bulk--with the fear that "one day I may not be able to get this high-fiber nonfat calcium filled thingy--the fear that one day I will be stone broke and unable to buy food, and, I will be able to go to my emergency polenta stash, or my emergency cajun jambalaya mix stash--and be rescued from a painful death by starvation. I know it's unlikely, and makes no sense, but, my brain works that way-(if I didn't have fear as a motivator, I'd only be left with guilt, shame and remorse, so, the fear works for me.) Back to Sunday night-I opened the pantry and realized that I was not going to be able to hoard any more dry goods or canned goods into the pantry. I MUST edit the food items. But, what would I do with 24 assorted boxes of Rice-A Roni? After all, it is the San Francisco treat? What if N. Korea DOES bomb the west coast, I could possibly open a San Francisco Treat Memorial Center and feed all of the minions who would reminisce about the tasty rice dishes. Microwave popcorn, canned mixed fruit, canned corn, canned beets, pumpkin pie filling, dressing mixes, cranberry sauces, pastas, tuna, granola, cereals, and more Rice-A Roni. I began to load the miasma into shopping bags. I had decided that I would make a trip to the Community Food Bank tomorrow afternoon and offer my own food bank to them, and if they rejected my generous hoard, I would cross the ecumenical divide and journey to Catholic Charities and sacrificially give the Sisters of the Holy Cross my goods. BUT, just as I was loading up the bags, I heard the neighbors talking in the yard next door. I wondered if they could use any of my foodstuffs? But, I did not think about that first-just how exactly do you offer your food from your pantry to an adult next door? a person that you will have to see again, and interact with again? My own self-talk tried to convince me that taking the bags of food to their door, leaving them there, and coming back home, to have them open the door and imagine that a kind food Santa or canned-goods fairy had left them a bounty of blessing. What if they didn't trust the food, and thought they may be poisoned with the anonymous food? After all, how often do shopping bags of Rice a Roni show up on your doorstep? And the canned peaches? Could this be fruit terrorists at work? Had the Jolly Green Giant finally crossed to the dark side? No, I decided to take 2 of the bags, with the most mundane of the foods, the pastas, over to the door, ring the doorbell, and hope that my neighbor Kelly answered-but, no, her husband and one of their kids answered-with one of the boys who is staying with them, also. Kelly and Steve inherited the house from her mother, who sometimes stays in the garage behind their house-they have a dagger who is 18, and is working to be a LVN, and 3 sons, a 13 year old, a10 yr. old, and an 8 year old-and, they are expecting child #5. Kelly is not young, late 30's, early 40's I would guess. Steve does not work due to a mental illness-the boys do not do well in school, and are often home due to suspensions or other punitive actions. But, they knew of a dad who was about to lose the custody of his 2 sons because he could not afford to pay the utilities and feed the boys- and, so, Kelly and Steve invited them to live in their house next door-2 more growing boys to feed, and a father who visits, on his bicycle, daily, and sometimes stays with them, because they have window air conditioning units. I stood at the door, and said, "would you guys like some food? I'm trying to lose some weight, and don't need all of this pasta and other stuff.. it really isn't good for me, cholesterol and all, and fat content--I stopped short of saying it wasn't healthy-because I wanted them to take the food off of my hands-because in that moment, I felt guilty for having so much, when I looked at them, and knew that they had so little. Steve began to take the bags-and the boys said that they would come over and get the rest of the bags from my house. I felt sad that my own embarrassment and shame could have prevented me from giving them the food, that they obviously wanted and needed- Steve said over and over.."You have no idea..." The boys wanted to begin to eat then--at the door-=-they were excited to look into the bags- I had been afraid to take the food over to them before-afraid not of embarrassing them, but embarrassing ME. The boys came over to the house, and first remarked that the house was cool, and greeted my cat, and said that they watch my cat in the windows--it made me feel safe with my neighbors to know that they watch my cat--and they said "your house is big-our house is small"--"do you have an upstairs?" "and it's just YOU who lives here?" I knew that at least 2 of the boys sleep on the living room floor at the house next door-I knew that someone had hit their AC units, and had damaged them so that they only blew air, not cold air-I wondered about how they must have felt when it was 113, and my empty house was chilled for the cat and the plants, and they ate cereal for their meals so that they would not have to turn on the huge gas stove to cook. It was only 5 minutes, and the thoughts I had, What would Jesus do? Ask them to stay over? Tell them to come back? Offer them ice tea? Apologize for having plenty when they were in need? Here I was, a man who is supposed to believe in a Christ who gave his life for those who did not have life, who talked about giving a drink of water, a coat, a bed--and, I am offering unwanted food items because my pantry is too full-because I was running out of room for MORE unnecessary food items. These were not "staples"--these were wants, desires, pleasures--and, I knew that Kelly and Steve would probably look at some of the boxes and cans and wonder "just what is this?" "Why would he buy so much Thai lemon-grass cous cous?" "What is Cous Cous?" And, the boys would wish I had put more cereal and peanut butter and even tuna or popcorn into those bags. After an hour of conversation with them, the transaction was done, and I returned to look for more items in my pantry, closets, refrigerator to give to the guys next door- I do not know how they eat each day- there is only a limited income to feed, house and clothe them all- at last count, there are 10 people who live in the house and garage next door, who may not always eat, and who are often hot, and who are expecting a new baby, and who are usually unable to buy food to feed their dog. It HURTS to know that this kind of poverty is next door to me, not because of my own ego or embarrassment, but because I am generally desensitized to it, and do not notice it, and do not actively try to discover the needs and meet them-as best I can. Eventually, my unwanted food donation will be done-discarded, or eaten, or given to the dog-- that does not matter-I wonder what they will do when the new baby arrives? I wonder how the boys get up and go to school in the morning, without so much as a poptart? I wonder if Kelly is able to eat well enough that the fetus will develop to be a healthy baby? I wonder if her elderly mother ever goes to sleep hungry, back in her garage? Did my hesitant gesture make any difference? Did I make any difference? I have more questions than answers--not a liberal guilt, but, over and over I think.. My neighbors are hungry... My neighbors are not well... And I LIVE HERE. God, does that matter to you? Living next door does not assauage my responsbility-just puts the situation within my daily reach- I see the face of poverty-daily, almost hourly- and, I am learning how to adapt, reconfigure, rearrange, rethink my own life- and my own habits, and my own wastefulness and my own selfishness--I cannot ignore the poverty, or wish it will go away, or hide it--it greets me, and mocks me, and cries out to me with anguish--As I handed the bag of food to Steve, he said "Don, you have no idea." Sadly, he is right.

Does Historic Preservation Really Matter?

I mean really, ask yourself, does the preservation of historic structures-buildings, signs, landscaping, towers, canals- how does that matter when the world is burning? When HIV/AIDS still ravages continents, when poverty grips millions, why should anyone care about old buildings, where somethng important may or may not have occurred? Why should people of faith, particularly Christians, give a rip? As I sat on the City of Fresno Historic Preservation Commission tonight, the thoughts crossed my mind- and then, the responses flooded in just as fast- as we reluctantly voted to allow a demolition permit for a 100 year old farmhouse and gazebo, to make room for a daycare center for poor children in a rural neighborhood, I was torn, as were the other commissioners, with the choice-the owner of the property had searched for someone to move the house, but the cost was prohibitive, they had tried to work the house into the scheme of the center, but, still costs were high, they had done their best to find buyers, but, no go- so, we were asked to allow them to eventually demolish the house. A 2 story farmhouse, build of wood and river rock, with shutters decorated with crescents, with panelled ceilings, and staircases of wood, and a handmade porch wall and columns of river rocks, probably from the nearby King's or Merced rivers. It's a house that would cost millions in San Francisco or Los Angeles or San Diego- but, here, on the outskirts of Fresno, there are no takers-so, the wrecking ball will take aim, and a piece of architecture will fall-architecture that once housed families, mom's and dads and kids, and is surrounded by olive trees-probably harvested for oil or the fruit, and a cheerful gazebo, no doubt the site of former tea parties and courting and lazy afternoons in the San Joaquin sun-the house is not that unusual-a 4 square, colonial revival with prairie influence type, of which there are hundreds in the area. But, it IS a house-a house which could house a family, or several, and in these days of shortages of affordable housing, this house will disappear. Those same farm workers, whose children will attend the daycare, could live there-could make a home there. But, the world doesn't work like that-those farm workers will live in substandard apartments or trailers provided by big agriculture conglomerates, like Del Monte or Jolly Green Giant- and they will live in tight quarters, and fall to alchohol, drugs, prostitutes, illiteracy-not because they don't live in a house- but, because they will never be able to OWN a house, to have a place to call their own-a place to settle, to raise their kids-but, NOT in this house- I wonder if a foundation will be left when the house is demolished-will there be a "footprint" left? Will generations down the road point at the site and say "there used to be a beautiful, simple farm house there?" And, it came to a vote tonight- and, I watched my fellow commissioners vote reluctantly-to follow protocal, to adhere to policy, and voted for the demolition. It is no one's fault-the owners and the city tried as best they could- and, still, the only solution was a demolition permit-so, I could not vote--and, I did not vote "nay"-but, rather abstained. Because, somehow, I think that it matters that someone-even someone as ill-informed and stubborn as me, that I never go on record as approving to have something of beauty and grace, such as the old farmhouse-I will never condone it's destruction. I feel like I need to cling to some ideas of beauty and do what I can, in my little universe, to preserve what is left of it. No, it was not a Picasso, or a Moore, or a Rodin, but, it was the handiwork of some proud craftsmen-carpenters, stonesmiths, plumbers, electricians, painters, roofers-it is a house that carries the sweat, and spit, and strength of builders from our past. They built the house to last, and for over 100 years, it has stood- the olive trees surrounding it like a halo. The gazebo laughing in the front yard. And then, the discussion turned to preserving other old buildings in our downtown-and the comment was made that while hundreds of new buildings are approved to be built on the northside of town, that downtown is crumbling- The Penney's building, Gottschalks, Security Bank, Bank of Italy, Hotel Fresno, Trade Center, Hotel Virginia, Helm Building, Guarantee Savings, all proud, stately, beautiful structures-that represented a golden age in Fresno and the San Joaquin valley-but, not, with roofs, columns, and ceilings crumbling-it's as if someone pushed the old buildings into a nasty old nursing home and left them to rot and die-- and they are. Whole new generations of Fresno residents have no idea that there was once a vibrant downtown-they only know it as the place where they have to go for jury duty--or to occasionally view the homeless on G. street-for many, it is a frightening place-regardless of the mass amount of public art on the Fulton mall, or the excellent food at the small cafe's and food carts- they will never know the majestic Art Deco theatres-the Wilson (virtually remodeled out of existence as a church), the Vista, The Mexico, the Hardy, Warnors-With each new strip mall north of Herndon, a nail is placed in the coffin of downtown. There is no revitalization movement like that in Long Beach, or Tampa, or Los Angeles-there is a "we hope someone else cares" attitude--and, a waiting game- waiting for someone else to step in and do something-- the city, a developer, a big box (lord forbid), someones huge influx of $ and energy--- but, wishing and talking don't seem to be making any forward motion-because if talking about downtown revitalization could have made it happen, it would have been vibrant years ago! All the Mindhubbers and Famous postings that call for revitalization-- somehow lack the political clout/energy/desire, and the financial umph to get anything off the ground rather than the occasional rally, concert or cocktail gathering. Revitalization and Renewal in Fresno is going to take a new wave of ideas, some new ways of thinking, and a readiness to discard some OLD ideas, while a reluctance to demolish and discard our old buildings. Fresno has had it backwards for quite a few years- we have demolished our great old buildings, and kept the old ideas- instead of the other way around. "We tried that once and it didn't work.. we've been working on that for years.... someone tried that once....you don't know the history of that...." are the mantras of City Hall, and have made their way to the pulpits of Fresno, as well as L. street and is most evident on G. street and the Fulton mall. Why should I care? I live here. I fell in love with this city. I want to be an agent of change here. I think that caring about old buildings is an indicator of caring about people-the infrastructure-the life of this city. I want to believe in truth-displayed in beauty-whether in buildings, or landscapes, or people- So, I can't vote to demolish the old farmhouse. I just can't.