I recently had a long overdue conversation with a lovely neighbor who also happens to be a new mother.
Not only are her real life I-just-had-a-baby stories eye opening, but they are Hilarious.
Laugh out loud, breaking into coughing fits HI-LAR-IOUS.
So because she has a new baby, a husband, and various animals around the house, I figure I'm not going to add to the burden by fulfiling my requirment as the "wacky neighbor down the street."
Dropping in unanounced when you're trying to put down a fussy baby may not lead to further social invitations.
Luckily a few days ago I had the priviledge to speak to the little mother and catch up on life and all things Woodlawn.
As we chatted she happened to mention that conflict resolution among her family tends to skew toward passive agressive tactics.
I paused on the other end of the phone and said "Passive agressive? And you live around black people? How's that working out?"
"Not so much." She replied.
As a rule, I explained, black folk don't really respond to passive agressive. You pretty much have to let us know what you want---hinting around isn't gonna make the magic happen.
A cultural exchange, neighborhood gossip and new baby stories all in the same conversation.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Everyone Has One
I just couldn't take it anymore.
After tweeting about the trash, when I got dropped off this afternoon it had seemingly multiplied. Naturally I was forced to pick it up.
But you’ve got to have limits so I only tidied up in front of my building.
Of course now that the weather is warming up, people tend to be outside so it was inevitable that I get to see neighbors I haven't seen in months.
Today was no exception.
So when I happened upon neighbors X and Y, our conversation eventually turned to the trash that had gathered in front of our home.
Of course the conversion morphed into our maintenance man not being paid enough (their emphasis, not mine) and other topics.
Then neighbor Y stated that she had questions about certain things around our happy little home.
She was a relative newcomer so it was only to be expected.
I suggested that she might want to check into my blog for a historical perspective of our happy little community since I am one of a hand full of people who have been here since the property went converted.
From a slanted, biased Woody perspective of course.
By this time she was on a roll but did manage to tell me that she’s not really a “blog” person so she wouldn’t be reading my humble offerings.
At this point I knew I was listening to another person who had more opinions than solutions. Inevitably that would translate into zero work done on the association’s behalf.
While I’m not feeling the love for all of my neighbors right now, I will say I do know who will actually step up and work on behalf of the association and who will sit there and flippin’ complain all day.
So it was with this knowledge I listened while I continued to pick up the trash.
Because I was dealing with someone of the later mindset, not the former.
This was later confirmed as X and Y were walking away and Y commented that she “wasn’t going to pick up anything.”
So in the end I guess I’m doing the right thing by limiting my involvement in my association---don’t forget I’m the “bad neighbor.”
Because people with big talk along with big ideas but with no follow through are “all hat and no cattle"
Because everyone has an opinion.
That and $2.25 will get you on the bus.
After tweeting about the trash, when I got dropped off this afternoon it had seemingly multiplied. Naturally I was forced to pick it up.
But you’ve got to have limits so I only tidied up in front of my building.
Of course now that the weather is warming up, people tend to be outside so it was inevitable that I get to see neighbors I haven't seen in months.
Today was no exception.
So when I happened upon neighbors X and Y, our conversation eventually turned to the trash that had gathered in front of our home.
Of course the conversion morphed into our maintenance man not being paid enough (their emphasis, not mine) and other topics.
Then neighbor Y stated that she had questions about certain things around our happy little home.
She was a relative newcomer so it was only to be expected.
I suggested that she might want to check into my blog for a historical perspective of our happy little community since I am one of a hand full of people who have been here since the property went converted.
From a slanted, biased Woody perspective of course.
By this time she was on a roll but did manage to tell me that she’s not really a “blog” person so she wouldn’t be reading my humble offerings.
At this point I knew I was listening to another person who had more opinions than solutions. Inevitably that would translate into zero work done on the association’s behalf.
While I’m not feeling the love for all of my neighbors right now, I will say I do know who will actually step up and work on behalf of the association and who will sit there and flippin’ complain all day.
So it was with this knowledge I listened while I continued to pick up the trash.
Because I was dealing with someone of the later mindset, not the former.
This was later confirmed as X and Y were walking away and Y commented that she “wasn’t going to pick up anything.”
So in the end I guess I’m doing the right thing by limiting my involvement in my association---don’t forget I’m the “bad neighbor.”
Because people with big talk along with big ideas but with no follow through are “all hat and no cattle"
Because everyone has an opinion.
That and $2.25 will get you on the bus.
The Hood Is A Twitter
There are a few things that some people had wished I had never discovered.
I’m sure my mother never wished I had discovered boys, my developer wished I had never discovered blogging and my waist line wished I had never discovered beer.
But those pale in comparison to my latest, greatest discovery----Twitter.
While it’s new to me, technologically savvy cats have been “tweeting” (the proper term for a Twitter message) for awhile now.
For those of you who don’t know, Twitter is basically Facebook on steroids. It allows you to send a short 140 character message about what you may be doing, feeling or thinking at any given moment.
That way you can update people who subscribe to your Twitter account with what’s going on in your everyday life.
AND you can link your account to a website or blog.
For me, it’s the perfect way to transmit what’s going on in the ‘hood via text message “tweets” without going through the process of updating my blog.
‘Cause you may be surprised to find out that I don’t exactly carry my laptop around with me everywhere. Plus the added adventure of potentially dodging bullets may necessitate that I have to duck for cover.
If I do, I may potentially damage my laptop. That would be really, really bad.
But as a blogger, the upside for me is that I may “tweet” something that I see and later give you guys the full blown story by turning it into an actual post.
If you look over in the left hand margin, you will see that I’ve already started making observations about the little patch of paradise I call home.
So check into the blog to see what I’m “tweeting” about or you also have the option to subscribe to my Twitter account directly.
I’m telling you this is gonna be great.
I’m sure my mother never wished I had discovered boys, my developer wished I had never discovered blogging and my waist line wished I had never discovered beer.
But those pale in comparison to my latest, greatest discovery----Twitter.
While it’s new to me, technologically savvy cats have been “tweeting” (the proper term for a Twitter message) for awhile now.
For those of you who don’t know, Twitter is basically Facebook on steroids. It allows you to send a short 140 character message about what you may be doing, feeling or thinking at any given moment.
That way you can update people who subscribe to your Twitter account with what’s going on in your everyday life.
AND you can link your account to a website or blog.
For me, it’s the perfect way to transmit what’s going on in the ‘hood via text message “tweets” without going through the process of updating my blog.
‘Cause you may be surprised to find out that I don’t exactly carry my laptop around with me everywhere. Plus the added adventure of potentially dodging bullets may necessitate that I have to duck for cover.
If I do, I may potentially damage my laptop. That would be really, really bad.
But as a blogger, the upside for me is that I may “tweet” something that I see and later give you guys the full blown story by turning it into an actual post.
If you look over in the left hand margin, you will see that I’ve already started making observations about the little patch of paradise I call home.
So check into the blog to see what I’m “tweeting” about or you also have the option to subscribe to my Twitter account directly.
I’m telling you this is gonna be great.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Flying Under The Radar
Clearly I have not been paying attention to the goings on in the neighborhood.
It might have been because I was (am?) putting my life back together after 11 months of unemployment (Note: Not as easy as one would think).
Or it might have been the brutality of this slow moving winter and my knee injury.
Or it might have been because my head may have been firmly ensconced up my ass.
Either way, I had no clue that there was (is) a gang turf war in our little patch of heaven.
At least I didn’t know until it erupted on Monday night resulting in the shooting death of a 15 year old.
While the violence was a shock, I was fully prepared for the negative comments that usually accompany the subsequent Tribune and Sun-Times stories about the incident.
Luckily, the Tribune disabled the comments section by the time I had read the article.
Perhaps they already knew the caliber of commenter and simply disabled the ability to comment from the beginning.
No matter how you feel, someone’s child is dead.
While the consequences that led up to that fact are important, at the very least you should err on the side of respect.
Yes, I understand that some people cause their own problems.
But a majority of comments on articles about urban crime are mean and tip toe right up the line of being racist.
So it was with this in mind that I steeled myself after reading the Tribune’s article.
But it was all for naught.
I will say this to you who feel that “some people,” specifically black people, don’t care about the communities where they reside.
Let me preface my statements by affirming that while I may speak for myself, I also happen to know a huge swath of other black folks who feel as I do.
Yes, we care about where we live even though some may not think so.
Yes, we call the police.
In my experience the places that are usually the worst on the block are owned by either people who live in the suburbs or well meaning social service agencies.
Ironic, huh?
So the suburban neighbor that you so enthusiastically great each day may be the single largest contributing cause to crime in any given neighborhood.
Go cluck your tongue and pass your judgments on them.
Because lax tenant screening + credit requirements + non-resident management = a recipe for disaster.
But what do they care?
They keep on getting money that supports their comfortable lifestyles in their practically crime free neighborhoods.
And these well meaning social service agencies are no better.
I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth so I very much understand people needing help.
So I know that a lack of financial resources does make you or your family bad people.
Yet because of the fact you or your family may not have the time or the resources to mount a time consuming, draining protest about issues in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you don’t care.
In fact, that’s what I think some dubious people look for.
They look for the people who are the hardest pressed and will squawk the least.
‘Cause it’s a hell of a thing holding down multiple jobs and/or raising children and/or staying on the straight and narrow AND trying to get people to do right by your neighborhood.
Trying to get long time institutions to respect where you live.
Trying to get landlords to treat your neighborhood with the same consideration that they treat their neighborhoods.
Trying to uncover the maze of LLC’s who illegally convert rentals to condos and leave them when they run out of money.
Trying to get the police to pay real attention to those no good thugs on the corner.
It’s exhausting.
If you let it, it can drain your essence.
Trying to fix something that has been broken for a long time takes patience and resourcefulness.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
That’s a pretty tall bill for working class people who may not be well versed in how the city that works really works.
For those of you who can’t see beyond race, look up how UIC got built and get back to me.
So when I see these cowards hide behind a comment section and spout off about “why those people in that neighborhood don’t do anything” I know they have no idea what they’re talking about.
Because I know that I care about where I live---my neighbors do too.
Some things just fly under the radar.
It might have been because I was (am?) putting my life back together after 11 months of unemployment (Note: Not as easy as one would think).
Or it might have been the brutality of this slow moving winter and my knee injury.
Or it might have been because my head may have been firmly ensconced up my ass.
Either way, I had no clue that there was (is) a gang turf war in our little patch of heaven.
At least I didn’t know until it erupted on Monday night resulting in the shooting death of a 15 year old.
While the violence was a shock, I was fully prepared for the negative comments that usually accompany the subsequent Tribune and Sun-Times stories about the incident.
Luckily, the Tribune disabled the comments section by the time I had read the article.
Perhaps they already knew the caliber of commenter and simply disabled the ability to comment from the beginning.
No matter how you feel, someone’s child is dead.
While the consequences that led up to that fact are important, at the very least you should err on the side of respect.
Yes, I understand that some people cause their own problems.
But a majority of comments on articles about urban crime are mean and tip toe right up the line of being racist.
So it was with this in mind that I steeled myself after reading the Tribune’s article.
But it was all for naught.
I will say this to you who feel that “some people,” specifically black people, don’t care about the communities where they reside.
Let me preface my statements by affirming that while I may speak for myself, I also happen to know a huge swath of other black folks who feel as I do.
Yes, we care about where we live even though some may not think so.
Yes, we call the police.
In my experience the places that are usually the worst on the block are owned by either people who live in the suburbs or well meaning social service agencies.
Ironic, huh?
So the suburban neighbor that you so enthusiastically great each day may be the single largest contributing cause to crime in any given neighborhood.
Go cluck your tongue and pass your judgments on them.
Because lax tenant screening + credit requirements + non-resident management = a recipe for disaster.
But what do they care?
They keep on getting money that supports their comfortable lifestyles in their practically crime free neighborhoods.
And these well meaning social service agencies are no better.
I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth so I very much understand people needing help.
So I know that a lack of financial resources does make you or your family bad people.
Yet because of the fact you or your family may not have the time or the resources to mount a time consuming, draining protest about issues in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you don’t care.
In fact, that’s what I think some dubious people look for.
They look for the people who are the hardest pressed and will squawk the least.
‘Cause it’s a hell of a thing holding down multiple jobs and/or raising children and/or staying on the straight and narrow AND trying to get people to do right by your neighborhood.
Trying to get long time institutions to respect where you live.
Trying to get landlords to treat your neighborhood with the same consideration that they treat their neighborhoods.
Trying to uncover the maze of LLC’s who illegally convert rentals to condos and leave them when they run out of money.
Trying to get the police to pay real attention to those no good thugs on the corner.
It’s exhausting.
If you let it, it can drain your essence.
Trying to fix something that has been broken for a long time takes patience and resourcefulness.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
That’s a pretty tall bill for working class people who may not be well versed in how the city that works really works.
For those of you who can’t see beyond race, look up how UIC got built and get back to me.
So when I see these cowards hide behind a comment section and spout off about “why those people in that neighborhood don’t do anything” I know they have no idea what they’re talking about.
Because I know that I care about where I live---my neighbors do too.
Some things just fly under the radar.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
And So It Begins
I was greeted by the sight of police tape as I was taking out the trash this evening.
This was not gonna be good.
Apparently the beefin' between young men who live south of us and the young men who stand on the corner of my street and Stony Island reached a violent conclusion a little after 4:00 PM today.
A young man was shot twice in the field behind my home.
I don't know the status of his condition. I can only hope that he survives.
A few neighbors said that he was a part of the Stony clique that hangs out down the street.
They also said that he was 15.
So the young men to the south of us are armed and I'll bet you that the young men from down the street are probably arming themselves now.
The end result is that all of the rest of us will be caught in the middle of a pitched battle.
One with no winners.
God, it's gonna be a long fucking summer.
This was not gonna be good.
Apparently the beefin' between young men who live south of us and the young men who stand on the corner of my street and Stony Island reached a violent conclusion a little after 4:00 PM today.
A young man was shot twice in the field behind my home.
I don't know the status of his condition. I can only hope that he survives.
A few neighbors said that he was a part of the Stony clique that hangs out down the street.
They also said that he was 15.
So the young men to the south of us are armed and I'll bet you that the young men from down the street are probably arming themselves now.
The end result is that all of the rest of us will be caught in the middle of a pitched battle.
One with no winners.
God, it's gonna be a long fucking summer.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Question Mark
I haven't personally seen any work being done on any of these buildings in several months. In the case of the trio of buildings on 65th place I haven't seen workers on the premesis since early 2008.
It goes without saying that the Living Green Lofts were never built. That's the picture of the huge vacant lot and the pile of wood that used to be the sign annoucing the development.
The question is can the 'hood (and the city for that matter) survive another round of broken promises and broken buildings?
This building's residents have been MIA. I suspected that this was going to be converted to condos but nothing has hapened to indicate which course the current owner will take.
Brand new development on 65th Place that sits empty. It's only a matter of time before squatters or a bad element take hold.
The sign for Living Green Lofts sits in pieces after the development was never built.
The vacant lot where the Living Green Lofts were supposed to be built.
It goes without saying that the Living Green Lofts were never built. That's the picture of the huge vacant lot and the pile of wood that used to be the sign annoucing the development.
The question is can the 'hood (and the city for that matter) survive another round of broken promises and broken buildings?
This building's residents have been MIA. I suspected that this was going to be converted to condos but nothing has hapened to indicate which course the current owner will take.
Brand new development on 65th Place that sits empty. It's only a matter of time before squatters or a bad element take hold.
The sign for Living Green Lofts sits in pieces after the development was never built.
The vacant lot where the Living Green Lofts were supposed to be built.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
My New Favorite Person, Part I
My fellow Metra riders and I have been on edge since the attacks on women started near our train stop.
A few weeks ago I saw Metra security making the rounds of the parking lots and slowly cruising under the viaducts where the stairs lead to the platforms.
Then of course that was during the day.
But for those of us who ride the 5:43 from downtown and arrive at our destination in the dark, the Mt. Carmel security guard is a welcome sight.
Apparently the lads at Mt. Carmel have had intermittent trouble in transit to or on the train platform. The school thought it was a good idea to hire a security guard to make sure the boys have safe passage.
While I don't know for sure, it's probably a safe bet that he gives the school parking lot the once over as a part of his duties. It makes sense, right?
But I when I exit the train I usually see him either on the platform or on the steps leading to the viaduct/64th street level.
While he dosen't have to stick around to make sure that the local commuters get down from the platform, I think it's awful stand up of him to take a few extra minutes to keep an eye out for us.
I may not know his name but he's my new favorite person.
A few weeks ago I saw Metra security making the rounds of the parking lots and slowly cruising under the viaducts where the stairs lead to the platforms.
Then of course that was during the day.
But for those of us who ride the 5:43 from downtown and arrive at our destination in the dark, the Mt. Carmel security guard is a welcome sight.
Apparently the lads at Mt. Carmel have had intermittent trouble in transit to or on the train platform. The school thought it was a good idea to hire a security guard to make sure the boys have safe passage.
While I don't know for sure, it's probably a safe bet that he gives the school parking lot the once over as a part of his duties. It makes sense, right?
But I when I exit the train I usually see him either on the platform or on the steps leading to the viaduct/64th street level.
While he dosen't have to stick around to make sure that the local commuters get down from the platform, I think it's awful stand up of him to take a few extra minutes to keep an eye out for us.
I may not know his name but he's my new favorite person.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Fractured Fairy Tale
There once was a lady who lived with her son on the south side of Chicago.
Unfortunately and unbeknownst to them, they lived in an apartment that had lead paint.
The exposure to the poison left the little boy with elevated lead levels in his blood.
So the lady left the building and moved to another place.
I can only assume to raise her child in the safest environment she could find and afford.
Unfortunately for her, the next place at 6959 South Paxton was no better than the first.
Or so the lawsuit allegeds (2008-L-005961).
Quadria Thomas and her son Danais Thomas are not only going after Merrill Square Cooperative and Quality Management Services---the first location; but also Carlton Knight and fellow defendants Walter Thomas and Theresa Thomas owners and/or property managers of the Paxton address.
Mr. Knight, Mr. & Ms. Thomas were the owners of the building where Ms. Thomas and her son “lawfully lived in and/or frequently visited an apartment in the said premises.”
I wish them luck.
I don’t think the esteemed lawyers of Conway & Conway know who they’re dealing with.
Even if they can prove that:
“…The said lead based paint to peel, flake, powder and otherwise deteriorate to the point where it could be and was ingested by the minor plaintiff;”
And…
“Caused other materials containing lead to be and remain on said premises and the apartment occupied by the plaintiffs, thereby creating a dangerous condition;”
And…
“Failed to warn the plaintiff’s parents and/or grandparents of the danger posed by the presence of lead on the said premises and/or apartment, though they knew that minor children were living on the premises.”
I’m mystified on how they’re going to get any type of financial relief.
I strongly suspect that legal shenanigans and delays will frustrate the plaintiffs and their lawyers.
And since a delayed payday is never on a lawyer’s agenda (or at least any lawyer I know), it’s within the realm of possibility that the plaintiffs may be dropped by their legal representative(s).
Leaving them up the creek without a paddle.
But when you think about it, would you really blame the lawyers?
You have a case constantly delayed with little if any chance of finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow what would you do?
But I hope against hope that’s not gonna happen.
Because if anyone needs to fight out a lawsuit, it needs to be on behalf of a little boy who’s very sick and was injured through no fault of his own.
I’m hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Unfortunately and unbeknownst to them, they lived in an apartment that had lead paint.
The exposure to the poison left the little boy with elevated lead levels in his blood.
So the lady left the building and moved to another place.
I can only assume to raise her child in the safest environment she could find and afford.
Unfortunately for her, the next place at 6959 South Paxton was no better than the first.
Or so the lawsuit allegeds (2008-L-005961).
Quadria Thomas and her son Danais Thomas are not only going after Merrill Square Cooperative and Quality Management Services---the first location; but also Carlton Knight and fellow defendants Walter Thomas and Theresa Thomas owners and/or property managers of the Paxton address.
Mr. Knight, Mr. & Ms. Thomas were the owners of the building where Ms. Thomas and her son “lawfully lived in and/or frequently visited an apartment in the said premises.”
I wish them luck.
I don’t think the esteemed lawyers of Conway & Conway know who they’re dealing with.
Even if they can prove that:
“…The said lead based paint to peel, flake, powder and otherwise deteriorate to the point where it could be and was ingested by the minor plaintiff;”
And…
“Caused other materials containing lead to be and remain on said premises and the apartment occupied by the plaintiffs, thereby creating a dangerous condition;”
And…
“Failed to warn the plaintiff’s parents and/or grandparents of the danger posed by the presence of lead on the said premises and/or apartment, though they knew that minor children were living on the premises.”
I’m mystified on how they’re going to get any type of financial relief.
I strongly suspect that legal shenanigans and delays will frustrate the plaintiffs and their lawyers.
And since a delayed payday is never on a lawyer’s agenda (or at least any lawyer I know), it’s within the realm of possibility that the plaintiffs may be dropped by their legal representative(s).
Leaving them up the creek without a paddle.
But when you think about it, would you really blame the lawyers?
You have a case constantly delayed with little if any chance of finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow what would you do?
But I hope against hope that’s not gonna happen.
Because if anyone needs to fight out a lawsuit, it needs to be on behalf of a little boy who’s very sick and was injured through no fault of his own.
I’m hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Coming and Going
Good things come to those who wait.
Or at least that’s how the old saying goes.
The latest in Carlton Knight legal news is a doozy.
When I last wrote about him, Inland Bank and Trust’s lawsuit to get their million dollars was evolving into a page turner.
Well I’m proud to report its officially crack-a-lackin’---simply delightful reading material.
Let me break it down for y’all:
Inland Bank filed two separate cases against Mr. Knight regarding the Dixie Highway property in Harvey. The first was for a complaint to foreclose (CH07-10840) and the second was for a complaint for a confession of judgment.
A confession of judgment is when a defendant confesses to the accuracy of the plaintiff’s complaint or signs a “cognovit actionem, a written confession made out earlier by the defendant.”
“The cognovit note says in writing that the debtor owes a particular sum and has voluntarily submitted himself or herself to the authority of the court. If the debtor later fell into arrears, the creditor could obtain a judgment against the debtor without even bothering to notify the debtor of the proceedings.”
Explanation courtesy of Answers.com
Carlton’s lawyers in turn filed a motion (07-L-051164) to consolidate both of the cases while hoping to vacate the confession of judgment and/or “stay any further enforcement and allow the court hearing the mortgage foreclosure case to determine the alleged issue regarding the legality of the note.”
In short, if the cases get consolidated and there are grounds for dismissal on either point, the whole thing goes away.
That is the pimpiest of pimp legal moves I have ever seen.
At one point I questioned the prowess of one of Carlton’s legal team but I do have to say that these new kids (or at least new to me) from Cook, Revak & Associates are good.
Sharp cookies, indeed.
Inland fired back by stating:
“Mortgagee has several remedies (personal judgment, foreclosure, or recover possession of the property) that may be pursued to enforce payment. These remedies are concurrent or successive, as the mortgagee deems appropriate. When a mortgagee chooses to pursue remedies concurrently, they must be maintained separately.”
“The plaintiff may choose its remedy-or remedies-as it deems necessary and may pursue multiple remedies concurrently. It is clear that the proceedings must be tried separately. Therefore the plaintiff was proper in bringing both a mortgage foreclosure proceeding and the confession of judgment proceeding and the court should not consolidate the cases.”
Boo-ya, baby!
Apparently Inland isn’t taking the possible loss of over a million dollars lightly.
Or at least that’s how the old saying goes.
The latest in Carlton Knight legal news is a doozy.
When I last wrote about him, Inland Bank and Trust’s lawsuit to get their million dollars was evolving into a page turner.
Well I’m proud to report its officially crack-a-lackin’---simply delightful reading material.
Let me break it down for y’all:
Inland Bank filed two separate cases against Mr. Knight regarding the Dixie Highway property in Harvey. The first was for a complaint to foreclose (CH07-10840) and the second was for a complaint for a confession of judgment.
A confession of judgment is when a defendant confesses to the accuracy of the plaintiff’s complaint or signs a “cognovit actionem, a written confession made out earlier by the defendant.”
“The cognovit note says in writing that the debtor owes a particular sum and has voluntarily submitted himself or herself to the authority of the court. If the debtor later fell into arrears, the creditor could obtain a judgment against the debtor without even bothering to notify the debtor of the proceedings.”
Explanation courtesy of Answers.com
Carlton’s lawyers in turn filed a motion (07-L-051164) to consolidate both of the cases while hoping to vacate the confession of judgment and/or “stay any further enforcement and allow the court hearing the mortgage foreclosure case to determine the alleged issue regarding the legality of the note.”
In short, if the cases get consolidated and there are grounds for dismissal on either point, the whole thing goes away.
That is the pimpiest of pimp legal moves I have ever seen.
At one point I questioned the prowess of one of Carlton’s legal team but I do have to say that these new kids (or at least new to me) from Cook, Revak & Associates are good.
Sharp cookies, indeed.
Inland fired back by stating:
“Mortgagee has several remedies (personal judgment, foreclosure, or recover possession of the property) that may be pursued to enforce payment. These remedies are concurrent or successive, as the mortgagee deems appropriate. When a mortgagee chooses to pursue remedies concurrently, they must be maintained separately.”
“The plaintiff may choose its remedy-or remedies-as it deems necessary and may pursue multiple remedies concurrently. It is clear that the proceedings must be tried separately. Therefore the plaintiff was proper in bringing both a mortgage foreclosure proceeding and the confession of judgment proceeding and the court should not consolidate the cases.”
Boo-ya, baby!
Apparently Inland isn’t taking the possible loss of over a million dollars lightly.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
King Charles and the Concealed Carry
Pride is a dangerous thing.
In a way, pride is just the ultimate setup for disappointment.
That’s the way it goes in life and that’s the way it’s going in the ‘hood.
Why? You ask?
Walking from the bus stop on Sunday night, I saw two things---one a more common place occurrence and the other is something I’ve never seen in Woodlawn: A young white woman walking a Cavalier King Charles.
That's a breed of dog you don't see too much around these parts.
As more people discover our gem in the rough known as Woodlawn, white neighbors are not that rare of an occurrence anymore.
A Cavalier King Charles on the other hand, is a reason to celebrate.
You see my friends, when you live in an emerging neighborhood; it’s the little things that make a difference.
I hate to say it, but image is everything.
Whether its shoes on a wire, the Jenkins Boys on the corner, trash on the parkway or a woman (regardless of race) walking her Cavalier King Charles.
In the dead of night, might I add.
These are the non-verbal clues that help people shape their perceptions of your neighborhood.
And for some people, perception is reality.
So there I was feeling the upward trajectory of the ‘hood when I got a text Monday night.
“I just heard about the muggings at your Metra Station on WGN. Please be careful.”
Apparently King Charles Cavilers don’t mean shit to a knife wielding lunatic.
Naturally, this was the talk of the train stop on Tuesday morning.
All of the ladies were putting together the bits and pieces of what we heard vs. fact vs. what was on the news.
More importantly, we all talked about how to stay safe.
I recounted the story of my aunt who lived in (and still lives in ) Gary, Indiana in the 1970’s.
As a nurse, she would have a rotating shift that sometimes put her waiting on public transportation after dark.
She had already anticipated that some jagoff was going to screw with her so she took my grandfather’s .38 along as a traveling companion.
Imagine that the nurse who’s caring for you during your convalesce is packing heat in her locker at the hospital.
Hot.
One night while waiting for her bus, someone tried to mug her.
She shot him---lit him up like a Christmas tree.
Then on another night in a separate incident, another idiot tried to mug her.
She shot him too.
After that, she didn’t have any more problems.
To this day, we don’t just pop over to her house. We phone first. We always let her know that we’re coming.
Knocking on her door or entering her house unannounced is not a wise thing.
But this little story serves as a good lesson.
I have a saying, “The sharks go where the fish are.”
Apparently the fish have moved to Woodlawn.
That station is super creepy and is the perfect place to snatch up a sister if you have sinister intentions.
You see my friends; this dumbass just hasn’t met the right woman yet.
Trust me, I’m not her.
I’m not walking around with my chest poked out with an “S” on my sweater.
But you all must understand that sisters are doin’ it for themselves.
You can’t wait on the police to come and rescue you; especially when some bumblefuck decides that because he’s a little short on cash that any random woman walking down the street is going to be his personal ATM.
Because when he runs into the woman who doesn’t give a fig about the illegality of handguns in the City of Chicago and he makes his play, let’s suffice it to say that he’ll see the lightning flashing.
And I, for one, will cheer.
In a way, pride is just the ultimate setup for disappointment.
That’s the way it goes in life and that’s the way it’s going in the ‘hood.
Why? You ask?
Walking from the bus stop on Sunday night, I saw two things---one a more common place occurrence and the other is something I’ve never seen in Woodlawn: A young white woman walking a Cavalier King Charles.
That's a breed of dog you don't see too much around these parts.
As more people discover our gem in the rough known as Woodlawn, white neighbors are not that rare of an occurrence anymore.
A Cavalier King Charles on the other hand, is a reason to celebrate.
You see my friends, when you live in an emerging neighborhood; it’s the little things that make a difference.
I hate to say it, but image is everything.
Whether its shoes on a wire, the Jenkins Boys on the corner, trash on the parkway or a woman (regardless of race) walking her Cavalier King Charles.
In the dead of night, might I add.
These are the non-verbal clues that help people shape their perceptions of your neighborhood.
And for some people, perception is reality.
So there I was feeling the upward trajectory of the ‘hood when I got a text Monday night.
“I just heard about the muggings at your Metra Station on WGN. Please be careful.”
Apparently King Charles Cavilers don’t mean shit to a knife wielding lunatic.
Naturally, this was the talk of the train stop on Tuesday morning.
All of the ladies were putting together the bits and pieces of what we heard vs. fact vs. what was on the news.
More importantly, we all talked about how to stay safe.
I recounted the story of my aunt who lived in (and still lives in ) Gary, Indiana in the 1970’s.
As a nurse, she would have a rotating shift that sometimes put her waiting on public transportation after dark.
She had already anticipated that some jagoff was going to screw with her so she took my grandfather’s .38 along as a traveling companion.
Imagine that the nurse who’s caring for you during your convalesce is packing heat in her locker at the hospital.
Hot.
One night while waiting for her bus, someone tried to mug her.
She shot him---lit him up like a Christmas tree.
Then on another night in a separate incident, another idiot tried to mug her.
She shot him too.
After that, she didn’t have any more problems.
To this day, we don’t just pop over to her house. We phone first. We always let her know that we’re coming.
Knocking on her door or entering her house unannounced is not a wise thing.
But this little story serves as a good lesson.
I have a saying, “The sharks go where the fish are.”
Apparently the fish have moved to Woodlawn.
That station is super creepy and is the perfect place to snatch up a sister if you have sinister intentions.
You see my friends; this dumbass just hasn’t met the right woman yet.
Trust me, I’m not her.
I’m not walking around with my chest poked out with an “S” on my sweater.
But you all must understand that sisters are doin’ it for themselves.
You can’t wait on the police to come and rescue you; especially when some bumblefuck decides that because he’s a little short on cash that any random woman walking down the street is going to be his personal ATM.
Because when he runs into the woman who doesn’t give a fig about the illegality of handguns in the City of Chicago and he makes his play, let’s suffice it to say that he’ll see the lightning flashing.
And I, for one, will cheer.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Ghetto Libretto
I love the opera.
It the same drama you see on “Springer” or “Maury” with better costumes and vocals.
Fortunately for me and other thousands of opera buffs in Chicago, we happen to be blessed with the Lyric and its beautiful opera house on Wacker Drive.
I also happened to get blessed with a ticket from time to time.
While I love the opera on its own merits---the lush productions, the timelessness of the stories and the beauty of the music; the thing that really chaps my hide is the overt misogyny in most of the classic works.
Usually the lead female role is the naive ingénue, scheming whore or general all around victim.
Life happens to her. She rarely gets to determine her fate---which when you think about it was indicative of the times the operas were written---meekly bowing to the wills and needs of others.
...Or plotting to have them killed exiled or otherwise pushed out of the picture.
Frankly, I call bullshit on these one dimensional broads.
‘Cause it just churns my butter to see women so grossly misrepresented in the name of high art.
Think about it---Someone shelled out alot of money for that ticket. If you want to see women stereotyped, dominated or run down there are many vehicles within our popular culture where you can see that for free.
$135.00 a ticket is a bit much, no?
Anyhoo…
So it was with this mindset that I walked into a recent production of Madame Butterfly.
I knew the general plot and had heard some of the music from the beloved Puccini work but had never seen it in person.
And no I hadn’t seen Miss Saigon.
I still tried to keep an open mind---raising my objections to yet another opera where the woman gets the short end of the stick to my opera buddy.
My opera buddy is a kind and patient man who puts up with commentary like:
Gilbert & Sullivan---“Gay! I love every gay minute with those sailors. I wonder who’s the top in this relationship?”
Wagner’s Ring Cycle---“So I spent how much money to see drama caused by a horny dwarf ? Everyone in this story is 100% bat shit crazy.You’ve got to be kidding me right? Hitler loved this stuff? No wonder the Nazi's lost the war.
Note: This is when I had a full time job and money.
Cavalleria Rusticana & Pagliacci (better know as Cav/Pag)---“Laugh clown! Laugh!”
Aida---“I can already see the look on her parent’s face.”
Lulu---"I've got porn cleaner than this.
Usually, I sit quasi grumbling through the Acts, as the drama unfolds below. All I can say is thank God for the English subtitles.
But its opera and it’s beautiful so I go.
And I sit.
And I absorb.
And I learn.
Do not even get me started on how long it took me NOT to talk back to the stage.
And all was well until I saw the following discourse from the opera Madame Butterfly between B.F. Pinkerton the American Sailor and bridegroom and Sharpless, a counsel at the American embassy in Nagasaki:
With echoes of the Star Spangled Banner, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that, throughout the world, the Yankee wanderer is not satisfied until he captures the flowers of every shore and the love of every beautiful woman. “So I am marrying in the Japanese style: for 999 years, but with the right to cancel the marriage each month”. Sharpless is critical of Pinkerton’s beliefs, but they stand and agree, “America forever”. Pinkerton tells Goro to bring Butterfly to him. When Goro leaves, Sharpless asks Pinkerton if he is really in love.
Pinkerton admits to Sharpless that he does not know whether he is really in love or just infatuated, but he is bewitched with Butterfly’s innocence, charm and beauty, like a butterfly fluttering around and then landing with silent grace, so beautiful “that I must have her, even though I injure her butterfly wings”. Sharpless tells Pinkerton that he heard Butterfly speak, when she visited the Consulate, and he asks Pinkerton not to pluck off her delicate wings. However, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that he will do “no great harm, even if Butterfly falls in love.” Sharpless takes his glass of whisky and offers a toast to Pinkerton’s family at home, to which Pinkerton adds, “and to the day when I will have a real wedding and marry a real American bride.”
Courtesy of Wikipedia
Oh hell no.
Oh hell-to-the-no.
Oooh wheee…
And then Sharpless asks Butterfly how old she is.
“15.”
I thought I was gonna come out of my seat and put the funky beat down on Pinkerton.
The last thing a pre-menstrual, single, gimped up 40 year old woman needs to (or wants to) see is a young woman child going into a train wreck.
Around these parts we call that the Drew Peterson syndrome.
The neck rolling, teeth sucking and eye rolling was monumental.
I was so pissed.
Not just railing as usual, but actually pissed.
I was so pissed I was my Sam Adams straight from the bottle AT THE OPERA!
During the intermission the nice lady behind me said, “Dear, you know its make believe? Right?”
Clearly I was having a psychotic break.
You see Butterfly really did love him. When she sang Un bel di I was in tears.
Child, I was the hottest mess in Chicago.
I was such a hot mess that I had to leave before the opera was over.
I’m such no one wanted to read the headline, “Crazed Black Woman shoots Lyric Tenor After Break With Reality.”
But I really do have a purpose for telling this story.
Other than the fact I’ll be really scared for anyone who meets me when I’m going through menopause (Which really isn’t too far off when you think about it.)
While I have my issues with some operas, it’s certainly well worth the experience.
Prohibitive costs aside; everyone should have a chance to see great art.
If you haven’t noticed, our country has slipped into a tad of a cultural abyss.
In the early 90’s school boards across the country sacrificed gym, recess, music and art to balance their budgets.
Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the Blues Brother’s song.
My bad, if you were a child born in the early 90’s you wouldn’t know that.
Let me try again---Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the song from the Hyundai commercial.
Sweet Baby Jesus.
But there is one man who’s making a difference.
The effervescent Neil Steinberg of the Chicago Sun Times is trying to turn the tide of dumbassness and cultural ignorance by giving away 100 tickets to Pagliacci & Cavalleria Rusticana on February 18th.
Granted, the clown is crazy and I think he pushes his poor put upon wife into cheating on him, but that’s just my opinion.
If you want to know what I’m talking about, go see the production or pray that luck is on your side and you win a ticket.
But whatever you do, don’t yell out “Laugh, clown! Laugh!”
It the same drama you see on “Springer” or “Maury” with better costumes and vocals.
Fortunately for me and other thousands of opera buffs in Chicago, we happen to be blessed with the Lyric and its beautiful opera house on Wacker Drive.
I also happened to get blessed with a ticket from time to time.
While I love the opera on its own merits---the lush productions, the timelessness of the stories and the beauty of the music; the thing that really chaps my hide is the overt misogyny in most of the classic works.
Usually the lead female role is the naive ingénue, scheming whore or general all around victim.
Life happens to her. She rarely gets to determine her fate---which when you think about it was indicative of the times the operas were written---meekly bowing to the wills and needs of others.
...Or plotting to have them killed exiled or otherwise pushed out of the picture.
Frankly, I call bullshit on these one dimensional broads.
‘Cause it just churns my butter to see women so grossly misrepresented in the name of high art.
Think about it---Someone shelled out alot of money for that ticket. If you want to see women stereotyped, dominated or run down there are many vehicles within our popular culture where you can see that for free.
$135.00 a ticket is a bit much, no?
Anyhoo…
So it was with this mindset that I walked into a recent production of Madame Butterfly.
I knew the general plot and had heard some of the music from the beloved Puccini work but had never seen it in person.
And no I hadn’t seen Miss Saigon.
I still tried to keep an open mind---raising my objections to yet another opera where the woman gets the short end of the stick to my opera buddy.
My opera buddy is a kind and patient man who puts up with commentary like:
Gilbert & Sullivan---“Gay! I love every gay minute with those sailors. I wonder who’s the top in this relationship?”
Wagner’s Ring Cycle---“So I spent how much money to see drama caused by a horny dwarf ? Everyone in this story is 100% bat shit crazy.You’ve got to be kidding me right? Hitler loved this stuff? No wonder the Nazi's lost the war.
Note: This is when I had a full time job and money.
Cavalleria Rusticana & Pagliacci (better know as Cav/Pag)---“Laugh clown! Laugh!”
Aida---“I can already see the look on her parent’s face.”
Lulu---"I've got porn cleaner than this.
Usually, I sit quasi grumbling through the Acts, as the drama unfolds below. All I can say is thank God for the English subtitles.
But its opera and it’s beautiful so I go.
And I sit.
And I absorb.
And I learn.
Do not even get me started on how long it took me NOT to talk back to the stage.
And all was well until I saw the following discourse from the opera Madame Butterfly between B.F. Pinkerton the American Sailor and bridegroom and Sharpless, a counsel at the American embassy in Nagasaki:
With echoes of the Star Spangled Banner, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that, throughout the world, the Yankee wanderer is not satisfied until he captures the flowers of every shore and the love of every beautiful woman. “So I am marrying in the Japanese style: for 999 years, but with the right to cancel the marriage each month”. Sharpless is critical of Pinkerton’s beliefs, but they stand and agree, “America forever”. Pinkerton tells Goro to bring Butterfly to him. When Goro leaves, Sharpless asks Pinkerton if he is really in love.
Pinkerton admits to Sharpless that he does not know whether he is really in love or just infatuated, but he is bewitched with Butterfly’s innocence, charm and beauty, like a butterfly fluttering around and then landing with silent grace, so beautiful “that I must have her, even though I injure her butterfly wings”. Sharpless tells Pinkerton that he heard Butterfly speak, when she visited the Consulate, and he asks Pinkerton not to pluck off her delicate wings. However, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that he will do “no great harm, even if Butterfly falls in love.” Sharpless takes his glass of whisky and offers a toast to Pinkerton’s family at home, to which Pinkerton adds, “and to the day when I will have a real wedding and marry a real American bride.”
Courtesy of Wikipedia
Oh hell no.
Oh hell-to-the-no.
Oooh wheee…
And then Sharpless asks Butterfly how old she is.
“15.”
I thought I was gonna come out of my seat and put the funky beat down on Pinkerton.
The last thing a pre-menstrual, single, gimped up 40 year old woman needs to (or wants to) see is a young woman child going into a train wreck.
Around these parts we call that the Drew Peterson syndrome.
The neck rolling, teeth sucking and eye rolling was monumental.
I was so pissed.
Not just railing as usual, but actually pissed.
I was so pissed I was my Sam Adams straight from the bottle AT THE OPERA!
During the intermission the nice lady behind me said, “Dear, you know its make believe? Right?”
Clearly I was having a psychotic break.
You see Butterfly really did love him. When she sang Un bel di I was in tears.
Child, I was the hottest mess in Chicago.
I was such a hot mess that I had to leave before the opera was over.
I’m such no one wanted to read the headline, “Crazed Black Woman shoots Lyric Tenor After Break With Reality.”
But I really do have a purpose for telling this story.
Other than the fact I’ll be really scared for anyone who meets me when I’m going through menopause (Which really isn’t too far off when you think about it.)
While I have my issues with some operas, it’s certainly well worth the experience.
Prohibitive costs aside; everyone should have a chance to see great art.
If you haven’t noticed, our country has slipped into a tad of a cultural abyss.
In the early 90’s school boards across the country sacrificed gym, recess, music and art to balance their budgets.
Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the Blues Brother’s song.
My bad, if you were a child born in the early 90’s you wouldn’t know that.
Let me try again---Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the song from the Hyundai commercial.
Sweet Baby Jesus.
But there is one man who’s making a difference.
The effervescent Neil Steinberg of the Chicago Sun Times is trying to turn the tide of dumbassness and cultural ignorance by giving away 100 tickets to Pagliacci & Cavalleria Rusticana on February 18th.
Granted, the clown is crazy and I think he pushes his poor put upon wife into cheating on him, but that’s just my opinion.
If you want to know what I’m talking about, go see the production or pray that luck is on your side and you win a ticket.
But whatever you do, don’t yell out “Laugh, clown! Laugh!”
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Site Manager
For those of you who’ve been long time readers already know I wasn’t going to let this Metropolitan foolishness fade to black.
In fact, since I seemingly couldn’t get any answers that I needed; I did what every resourceful, tax paying Chicagoan should do-----I called the police.
Well not 911 but the 3rd District CAPS office.
I started chatting with one nice police officer who then referred me to another nice police officer.
I’m gonna be honest with you, I thought this was shaping up to be a pass the buck type of moment.
Fortunately for me that wasn’t the case.
Everyone over at the 3rd District CAPS office has been extremely responsive; so much so that I heard via the grapevine the nice people at TWO recently had a chat with the police.
Now I wasn’t there at this little pow wow but from what I understand the word has come down---ixnay on the parties.
Apparently (and allegedly) no one over at the main TWO office knew anything about the shenanigans on 65th Street.
But they know now.
From what I heard, the site manager took the brunt of the blame in the conversation between the police and the TWO.
While I know it sounds mushy and girlish, I hope he or she doesn’t loose their job---more than likely they won’t. That wasn’t my intention.
My intentions were two fold: (1) Find out who’s making the party decisions at the Metropolitan and (2) Have them understand why it’s not appropriate to book a series of teen parties in a residential neighborhood.
Or strippers for that matter.
So at this point, it appears that things very well may be settling down.
But you never know.
I’ll pass the word along to the neighbors---Vigilance from everyone is required.
In fact, since I seemingly couldn’t get any answers that I needed; I did what every resourceful, tax paying Chicagoan should do-----I called the police.
Well not 911 but the 3rd District CAPS office.
I started chatting with one nice police officer who then referred me to another nice police officer.
I’m gonna be honest with you, I thought this was shaping up to be a pass the buck type of moment.
Fortunately for me that wasn’t the case.
Everyone over at the 3rd District CAPS office has been extremely responsive; so much so that I heard via the grapevine the nice people at TWO recently had a chat with the police.
Now I wasn’t there at this little pow wow but from what I understand the word has come down---ixnay on the parties.
Apparently (and allegedly) no one over at the main TWO office knew anything about the shenanigans on 65th Street.
But they know now.
From what I heard, the site manager took the brunt of the blame in the conversation between the police and the TWO.
While I know it sounds mushy and girlish, I hope he or she doesn’t loose their job---more than likely they won’t. That wasn’t my intention.
My intentions were two fold: (1) Find out who’s making the party decisions at the Metropolitan and (2) Have them understand why it’s not appropriate to book a series of teen parties in a residential neighborhood.
Or strippers for that matter.
So at this point, it appears that things very well may be settling down.
But you never know.
I’ll pass the word along to the neighbors---Vigilance from everyone is required.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Church Lady Mafia
They may go by a different name in your neck of the woods but I know you've seen them.
In my world, the nice ladies who ride my Metra line are generally quite, considerate and keep to themselves.
They tend to read the Bible or similar inspirational tracts that they received in church.
All in all a very picturesque scene.
Until you sit in a seat that was meant for their friend.
For those of us who know how it works---those of us who ride a commuter train 5 days a week, it is essential that you know your role.
It's essential that you know who reads, who sleeps, who puts their makeup on and who likes to "spread out."
If you take the train seat of one of the SSCLM, that's your ass.
SSCLM is short for the south side church lady mafia.
No harsh words are spoken, no voices are raised.
One look is all it takes.
For the most part you should already know your role.
If you're a regular, you have a tad more standing. Slight infractions might be overlooked.
But if you're repeat offender----It will get ugly real fast.
Real, real fast.
In my world, the nice ladies who ride my Metra line are generally quite, considerate and keep to themselves.
They tend to read the Bible or similar inspirational tracts that they received in church.
All in all a very picturesque scene.
Until you sit in a seat that was meant for their friend.
For those of us who know how it works---those of us who ride a commuter train 5 days a week, it is essential that you know your role.
It's essential that you know who reads, who sleeps, who puts their makeup on and who likes to "spread out."
If you take the train seat of one of the SSCLM, that's your ass.
SSCLM is short for the south side church lady mafia.
No harsh words are spoken, no voices are raised.
One look is all it takes.
For the most part you should already know your role.
If you're a regular, you have a tad more standing. Slight infractions might be overlooked.
But if you're repeat offender----It will get ugly real fast.
Real, real fast.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Are You Kidding Me?
Admittedly this isn't the best picture.
But as I walked---limped, gimped---home from the train late Monday night, I was struck by how pretty the snow was on this tree.
The snow is nice to look at, but now that it's freezing due to the sub zero temperatures, it's beauty has increasingly decreased exponentially.
12 below?
12 friggin fraggin below?
If the summers weren't so phenomenal, I'd ditch this ice rink.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Slip and Slide
Convalescence is not for the faint of heart.
I should know, I've been gimped up for nearly three weeks as a result of slipping on the ice a few days before Christmas.
Hairline fractures to my right patella, thank you for asking.
That's kneecap to those of you who may not know.
And let me tell you how challenging it is to do so many of the things you take for granted when your knee is messed up.
Getting dressed, walking down stairs, walking in general---all so painful to do when you can't bend your knee.
Let's not even talk about getting in and out of the shower or going to the bathroom.
Especially when your bathroom is not ADA compliant.
If the cat had a camera attached to his head, I'm sure the resulting footage would be sheer comedy.
But on the morning I slipped it sure wasn't.
I took a header in front of the Bank of America building near the corner of LaSalle & Jackson across the street from the Federal Reserve.
I'm sure that fall was sheer comedy as well.
That morning was brutally cold and ice was everywhere.
I thought I missed the sheets of ice in front of the building by stategically stepping around them but apparently I was wrong.
Oh so painfully wrong.
When I slipped I planted my feet so I could fall backwards. Apparently that strategy didn't work as after I was helped to my feet I felt something very wrong with my right knee.
24 hours, an emergency room vist and a couple of glasses of wine later I was on the road to recovery.
It still hurts like a mother but I will say it's getting better, so at least I'm making progress.
And by making progress I mean being to go to the bathroom without as much pain.
Unfortunately I won't be doing any of the dance scenes from Royal Wedding anytime soon.
I should know, I've been gimped up for nearly three weeks as a result of slipping on the ice a few days before Christmas.
Hairline fractures to my right patella, thank you for asking.
That's kneecap to those of you who may not know.
And let me tell you how challenging it is to do so many of the things you take for granted when your knee is messed up.
Getting dressed, walking down stairs, walking in general---all so painful to do when you can't bend your knee.
Let's not even talk about getting in and out of the shower or going to the bathroom.
Especially when your bathroom is not ADA compliant.
If the cat had a camera attached to his head, I'm sure the resulting footage would be sheer comedy.
But on the morning I slipped it sure wasn't.
I took a header in front of the Bank of America building near the corner of LaSalle & Jackson across the street from the Federal Reserve.
I'm sure that fall was sheer comedy as well.
That morning was brutally cold and ice was everywhere.
I thought I missed the sheets of ice in front of the building by stategically stepping around them but apparently I was wrong.
Oh so painfully wrong.
When I slipped I planted my feet so I could fall backwards. Apparently that strategy didn't work as after I was helped to my feet I felt something very wrong with my right knee.
24 hours, an emergency room vist and a couple of glasses of wine later I was on the road to recovery.
It still hurts like a mother but I will say it's getting better, so at least I'm making progress.
And by making progress I mean being to go to the bathroom without as much pain.
Unfortunately I won't be doing any of the dance scenes from Royal Wedding anytime soon.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Post Script
Just wanted to keep you all in the loop on a couple of recent developments:
Per my expectations, the driver responsible for my latest bootleg cab experience has been found liable of violating the municipal code of Chicago.
I bet you he won't ask another person to prepay if they happen to live on the south side.
When will people learn that one way or the other, that they'll pay the price for their ignorance.
My Developer, Carlton Knight, goes back to court on the 12th of this month. He wil appear before the Hon. William Pileggi in regards to the buidling violations in the Marquette Road condo development.
Naturally, I'm sure there will be yet another loophole for him to slip through to not comply with the building codes.
Go figure.
Rumor has it that he was granted more time by Judge Pileggi due to the fact that he was making an effort to move forward on the work.
I wonder if the good judge would be as understanding with Mr. Knight if he knew the intersting circumstances surrounding the single family townhome at 32nd & Rhodes.
Now I will say that my time has been spent the past year or so scratching around, looking for and keeping multiple jobs.
So my Inch High Private Eye game may be off a bit.
But the last time I checked, Mr. Knight did not have a valid City of Chicago real estate developer's license.
Furthermore, the property at 32nd & Rhodes was supposed to continue to be a hole in the ground until Mr. Knight got his seemingly questionable permits approved by way of a legitimate developer's license.
Clearly that wasn't the case.
Per this listing the single family townhome is nearing completion and delivery.
Now Mr. Knight could have applied for and received his real estate developer's license.
He could have sold the property and another limited liability company (or corporation) may have scooped it up.
This project may be totally on the up and up.
Yet if Mr. Knight is still heavily involved---and I tend to think he is---I would consider his past real estate efforts and total up the wins for the owners in the won/loss column.
You tell me who comes out wanting.
So let's play hypothetical.
If I'm a "real estate developer" who dosen't have a City of Chicago real estate developer's license and yet I still get permits and the like pushed through one of two things springs to mind---I either said that the development was for myself and turn around and put it on the commercial market
OR
Things are not as squeeky clean and monitored as the city would like us to believe.
Hypothetically speaking of course.
Lastly, you've never seen a happier woman than me watching the salt trucks go down our humble little street last night.
What was previously a two block ice rink prior to a drastic turn around in snow removal and salting policy has now become a passable throughfare.
Which is good considering I'm all gimpy from my recent tumble.
Per my expectations, the driver responsible for my latest bootleg cab experience has been found liable of violating the municipal code of Chicago.
I bet you he won't ask another person to prepay if they happen to live on the south side.
When will people learn that one way or the other, that they'll pay the price for their ignorance.
My Developer, Carlton Knight, goes back to court on the 12th of this month. He wil appear before the Hon. William Pileggi in regards to the buidling violations in the Marquette Road condo development.
Naturally, I'm sure there will be yet another loophole for him to slip through to not comply with the building codes.
Go figure.
Rumor has it that he was granted more time by Judge Pileggi due to the fact that he was making an effort to move forward on the work.
I wonder if the good judge would be as understanding with Mr. Knight if he knew the intersting circumstances surrounding the single family townhome at 32nd & Rhodes.
Now I will say that my time has been spent the past year or so scratching around, looking for and keeping multiple jobs.
So my Inch High Private Eye game may be off a bit.
But the last time I checked, Mr. Knight did not have a valid City of Chicago real estate developer's license.
Furthermore, the property at 32nd & Rhodes was supposed to continue to be a hole in the ground until Mr. Knight got his seemingly questionable permits approved by way of a legitimate developer's license.
Clearly that wasn't the case.
Per this listing the single family townhome is nearing completion and delivery.
Now Mr. Knight could have applied for and received his real estate developer's license.
He could have sold the property and another limited liability company (or corporation) may have scooped it up.
This project may be totally on the up and up.
Yet if Mr. Knight is still heavily involved---and I tend to think he is---I would consider his past real estate efforts and total up the wins for the owners in the won/loss column.
You tell me who comes out wanting.
So let's play hypothetical.
If I'm a "real estate developer" who dosen't have a City of Chicago real estate developer's license and yet I still get permits and the like pushed through one of two things springs to mind---I either said that the development was for myself and turn around and put it on the commercial market
OR
Things are not as squeeky clean and monitored as the city would like us to believe.
Hypothetically speaking of course.
Lastly, you've never seen a happier woman than me watching the salt trucks go down our humble little street last night.
What was previously a two block ice rink prior to a drastic turn around in snow removal and salting policy has now become a passable throughfare.
Which is good considering I'm all gimpy from my recent tumble.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Development?
Lately there's been a little too much room for cars on our street.
Normally it's nuts to buts attempting to park.
I don't have a car, but living down here for seven years I know that if you're not home and parked by 6:30, you'll be parking on the next block.
Something wasn't adding up.
Coincidentally, the trash on the parkway has dropped dramatically.
It wasn't until I walked east toward Stony Island and looked at the building next to the Astor Properties debacle did I figure it out:
It's empty.
I haven't seen anyone parking in front of or going in or out of the building in the past two weeks.
Because I normally take the Metra to work, I rarely pass by the other end of the block. But when I put my thinking cap on, it all made sense.
I bet you that building is going condo.
And as we all know, depending on who buys the units and/or who moves in that may or may not be a good thing for the 'hood.
If the Astor Properties building is any indication, we may have another weed choked yard in the near future.
I'll keep you posted.
Normally it's nuts to buts attempting to park.
I don't have a car, but living down here for seven years I know that if you're not home and parked by 6:30, you'll be parking on the next block.
Something wasn't adding up.
Coincidentally, the trash on the parkway has dropped dramatically.
It wasn't until I walked east toward Stony Island and looked at the building next to the Astor Properties debacle did I figure it out:
It's empty.
I haven't seen anyone parking in front of or going in or out of the building in the past two weeks.
Because I normally take the Metra to work, I rarely pass by the other end of the block. But when I put my thinking cap on, it all made sense.
I bet you that building is going condo.
And as we all know, depending on who buys the units and/or who moves in that may or may not be a good thing for the 'hood.
If the Astor Properties building is any indication, we may have another weed choked yard in the near future.
I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Frying Pan Into The Fire
It appears that the battle was won but the outcome of the war is severely muddled.
While the Friday night Juke Jams were shut down, the Metropolitan quickly rebounded by booking a “for ladies only” strip show in its space last week.
How do I know?
Easy---I simply asked a few of the ladies pouring out of the cars parked on my street.
They were all too eager to chat about where they were going and the type of show that was going on inside.
As a matter of fact, it seemed that tickets could be purchased in advance so there had to be some type of publicity or word of mouth. If I wasn’t in so much pain from my knee injury earlier in the week, I would have limped down there to see if I could have bought a ticket and seen the show.
More on my personal reenactment of the ice capades later.
These latest incidents reinforce my belief that whoever’s in charge at the Metropolitan is making some questionable decisions regarding the rental of their space.
Furthermore, I have serious questions about proper licensing and zoning issues.
Now I haven’t thoroughly checked everything out, but I believe our little piece of paradise is zoned residential, not commercial---but then of course I could be wrong.
Nonetheless, it’s always a good idea to run an party space in the same building as a substance abuse recovery program so what do I know?
Interestingly enough I did manage to find out that when one throws a large party or one where money an admission is being charged; it is the responsibility of the promoter or the host to make sure that the venue in question has all of the proper permits, licenses, safety features and apparatuses.
If the venue doesn’t have all of its ducks in a row, a responsible promoter would be crazy to stage his or her parties at the venue for fear of a possible lawsuit.
So caveat emptor when buying your ticket to these events. The party may be poppin’ but a panicked crowd of people in a venue that may or may have its permits, licensing and inspection by the fire department is a place that I have no desire to be.
Frankly speaking, that scenario is quite a possible with a novice or negligent party promoter.
I know what you’re thinking---Let’s not even talking about security and parking.
So while it would be easy for me to piss and moan about an impending disaster across the street, in actuality I don’t really know what’s exactly going on.
I don’t know who’s running the show.
I don’t know who’s promoting and hosting most of the parties.
I don’t know what type of setup the Metropolitan has or if our little hoody hoo is zoned for such a venture.
I don’t even know if neighborhood input would be welcomed or even considered.
But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.
While the Friday night Juke Jams were shut down, the Metropolitan quickly rebounded by booking a “for ladies only” strip show in its space last week.
How do I know?
Easy---I simply asked a few of the ladies pouring out of the cars parked on my street.
They were all too eager to chat about where they were going and the type of show that was going on inside.
As a matter of fact, it seemed that tickets could be purchased in advance so there had to be some type of publicity or word of mouth. If I wasn’t in so much pain from my knee injury earlier in the week, I would have limped down there to see if I could have bought a ticket and seen the show.
More on my personal reenactment of the ice capades later.
These latest incidents reinforce my belief that whoever’s in charge at the Metropolitan is making some questionable decisions regarding the rental of their space.
Furthermore, I have serious questions about proper licensing and zoning issues.
Now I haven’t thoroughly checked everything out, but I believe our little piece of paradise is zoned residential, not commercial---but then of course I could be wrong.
Nonetheless, it’s always a good idea to run an party space in the same building as a substance abuse recovery program so what do I know?
Interestingly enough I did manage to find out that when one throws a large party or one where money an admission is being charged; it is the responsibility of the promoter or the host to make sure that the venue in question has all of the proper permits, licenses, safety features and apparatuses.
If the venue doesn’t have all of its ducks in a row, a responsible promoter would be crazy to stage his or her parties at the venue for fear of a possible lawsuit.
So caveat emptor when buying your ticket to these events. The party may be poppin’ but a panicked crowd of people in a venue that may or may have its permits, licensing and inspection by the fire department is a place that I have no desire to be.
Frankly speaking, that scenario is quite a possible with a novice or negligent party promoter.
I know what you’re thinking---Let’s not even talking about security and parking.
So while it would be easy for me to piss and moan about an impending disaster across the street, in actuality I don’t really know what’s exactly going on.
I don’t know who’s running the show.
I don’t know who’s promoting and hosting most of the parties.
I don’t know what type of setup the Metropolitan has or if our little hoody hoo is zoned for such a venture.
I don’t even know if neighborhood input would be welcomed or even considered.
But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Phyrric
Calls were made.
Concerns were raised.
The Juke Jame situation was assessed.
Long story short, it seems that some law enforcement types were none too pleased about an ongoing party for 14-20 year olds that they hadn't been informed about.
Discussion flourished.
But in the end the party was called off. Go figure.
A small victory for the 'hood, right?
Wrong---dead wrong.
Goodbye Juke Jam.
Hello strippers.
Concerns were raised.
The Juke Jame situation was assessed.
Long story short, it seems that some law enforcement types were none too pleased about an ongoing party for 14-20 year olds that they hadn't been informed about.
Discussion flourished.
But in the end the party was called off. Go figure.
A small victory for the 'hood, right?
Wrong---dead wrong.
Goodbye Juke Jam.
Hello strippers.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
How Many Times Can I Invoke The Name Of Jesus In A Week?
You know what? I'm going to go and get a drink.
While doing so, I'll ponder the possible impact of this latest development on the 'hood.
Jesus take the wheel.
While doing so, I'll ponder the possible impact of this latest development on the 'hood.
Jesus take the wheel.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Milorad
The hair should have been the dead giveaway.
I knew I should have trusted my first impressions. But, no---I waved it off.
Then came word about the near daily commutes between Chicago and Springfield.
Then the family feud and all of the ensuing ugliness. That’s when the world was first introduced to the term “testicular virility.”
Sweet Baby Jesus.
Then he was the “first Black Governor of Illinois.”
Do not even get me started on that one.
Now rampant greed and runaway ego will cause the entire nation look on as yet another Illinois governor is under federal indictment.
But the cherry on top of all of this foolishness is how the Illinois voter is shocked by the goings on of Governor Blagojveich.
He got me once---I voted for him in ’02 hoping that he could wash away the stench of Ryan administration.
Yeah, I know I was a dumbass but I can dream the impossible dream can’t I?
After I got wind of the commuting foolishness ($26 million over the lifetime of his administrations), I knew this wasn’t the guy you let hold the cookie jar.
Yet more than one dumbass voted to have him hold the jar once again in ’06.
Now everyone wants to wag their fingers and cluck their tongues at his behavior when they as a voting body tacitly approved such shenanigans.
So now the great cry is heard and clothes are being rendered.
All they had to do was ask me. I’d would have let you in on the secret.
Never trust a man who’s constantly fiddling with his hair.
I knew I should have trusted my first impressions. But, no---I waved it off.
Then came word about the near daily commutes between Chicago and Springfield.
Then the family feud and all of the ensuing ugliness. That’s when the world was first introduced to the term “testicular virility.”
Sweet Baby Jesus.
Then he was the “first Black Governor of Illinois.”
Do not even get me started on that one.
Now rampant greed and runaway ego will cause the entire nation look on as yet another Illinois governor is under federal indictment.
But the cherry on top of all of this foolishness is how the Illinois voter is shocked by the goings on of Governor Blagojveich.
He got me once---I voted for him in ’02 hoping that he could wash away the stench of Ryan administration.
Yeah, I know I was a dumbass but I can dream the impossible dream can’t I?
After I got wind of the commuting foolishness ($26 million over the lifetime of his administrations), I knew this wasn’t the guy you let hold the cookie jar.
Yet more than one dumbass voted to have him hold the jar once again in ’06.
Now everyone wants to wag their fingers and cluck their tongues at his behavior when they as a voting body tacitly approved such shenanigans.
So now the great cry is heard and clothes are being rendered.
All they had to do was ask me. I’d would have let you in on the secret.
Never trust a man who’s constantly fiddling with his hair.
Monday, December 08, 2008
The More Things Change...
Just a few things that have been on my mind lately:
Despite the Chicago Transit Authority getting ready to committ legal robbery without a gun (translation: fare hikes), someone up there FINALLY started thinking from a rider's point of view by introducing the bus tracker program.
I swear it was sent from heaven.
You go to www.ctabustracker.com, click on the "estimated arrival times" link, find the line that you want, choose the direction and pick the stop. And right there before your eyes you have about the next three buses for your stop.
And when you're online the bustracker counts down IN REAL TIME!
Sweet Baby Jesus.
If you're getting dressed in the morning or trying to get somewhere on time, this thing is a godsend.
You want to know what's better?
This handy little utility can be accessed from any web enabled phone.
Now be forewarned, all bus lines aren't on the bus tracker yet but the CTA keeps on adding more with regularity.
Finally a real use for GPS. My days of running for the bus are over
Seemingly the more things change, the more they stay the same.
While I won't have to run for the bus, it won't matter much as I'm sure I'll slip and fall on the sidewalk that Mt. Carmel is supposed to maintain.
Long time readers know that this isn't the first time I've had issue with the snow clearing on the north side of the street.
It took forever to finally get a nice sidewalk. Even longer to get it plowed when the snow fell.
We haven't quite worked our way up to getting salt, but eyes remain heavenward and heads bowed.
Most people are griping that the city will let their side streets remain snowy and slick. Since we're used to the streets turning into sheets of ice before the plows get to us I say to the rest of the city----welcome to the club. Welcome to being treated like the colored.
Now you know how the folks on this little two block strecth of Nirvana on the south side feel.
Now we're back to practically begging Mt. Carmel to do what they should be doing in the first place.
The salt---that once again should be voluntarily spread on the sidewalk---would be icing on the cake
But no here I am again writing about the maintenance, or lack thereof, of our neighbor across the street.
You would think that at an school that prides itself on instilling moral character in young men would show a little to their neighbors.
Despite the Chicago Transit Authority getting ready to committ legal robbery without a gun (translation: fare hikes), someone up there FINALLY started thinking from a rider's point of view by introducing the bus tracker program.
I swear it was sent from heaven.
You go to www.ctabustracker.com, click on the "estimated arrival times" link, find the line that you want, choose the direction and pick the stop. And right there before your eyes you have about the next three buses for your stop.
And when you're online the bustracker counts down IN REAL TIME!
Sweet Baby Jesus.
If you're getting dressed in the morning or trying to get somewhere on time, this thing is a godsend.
You want to know what's better?
This handy little utility can be accessed from any web enabled phone.
Now be forewarned, all bus lines aren't on the bus tracker yet but the CTA keeps on adding more with regularity.
Finally a real use for GPS. My days of running for the bus are over
Seemingly the more things change, the more they stay the same.
While I won't have to run for the bus, it won't matter much as I'm sure I'll slip and fall on the sidewalk that Mt. Carmel is supposed to maintain.
Long time readers know that this isn't the first time I've had issue with the snow clearing on the north side of the street.
It took forever to finally get a nice sidewalk. Even longer to get it plowed when the snow fell.
We haven't quite worked our way up to getting salt, but eyes remain heavenward and heads bowed.
Most people are griping that the city will let their side streets remain snowy and slick. Since we're used to the streets turning into sheets of ice before the plows get to us I say to the rest of the city----welcome to the club. Welcome to being treated like the colored.
Now you know how the folks on this little two block strecth of Nirvana on the south side feel.
Now we're back to practically begging Mt. Carmel to do what they should be doing in the first place.
The salt---that once again should be voluntarily spread on the sidewalk---would be icing on the cake
But no here I am again writing about the maintenance, or lack thereof, of our neighbor across the street.
You would think that at an school that prides itself on instilling moral character in young men would show a little to their neighbors.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Floater
While the turkey never slid off the table at my house, there were quite a few mishaps during my youth.
Don't ask.
Despite what's going on in the economy and this crazy mixed up world, here's to hoping we all have a safe remainder of the holiday season.
Don't ask.
Despite what's going on in the economy and this crazy mixed up world, here's to hoping we all have a safe remainder of the holiday season.
Monday, November 24, 2008
State Secret
Now let’s all put our heads together on this one.
Go to the Inauguration---nope, no way.
Freezing my ass off with a crappy view of the action is not my idea of a good time.
I would on the other hand, like to go to a state dinner.
So from now until President Elect Obama leaves office, I’m on a mission to get invited to the White House for a state dinner.
I’m pretty sure I can clear a Secret Service background check. And I promise to act like I have some home training.
Yet I’m not quite sure how I’m going to pull this one off.
Any ideas, folks?
Go to the Inauguration---nope, no way.
Freezing my ass off with a crappy view of the action is not my idea of a good time.
I would on the other hand, like to go to a state dinner.
So from now until President Elect Obama leaves office, I’m on a mission to get invited to the White House for a state dinner.
I’m pretty sure I can clear a Secret Service background check. And I promise to act like I have some home training.
Yet I’m not quite sure how I’m going to pull this one off.
Any ideas, folks?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Yes We Can
I have yet to have children.
I do not know how it feels to give birth to another human being and to experience that life long love---that maternal bond.
My friends with kids often remark they'd do anything to protect their children.
Playing devil's advocate, I jump on the bandwagon and ask them if they knew that their child (or children)commited a crime, would they ever turn them in to the police.
Every last one of them has said no.
They couldn't bring themselves to turn their children in---no matter how horrific the act.
I counter with the statement, "So why do you bother teaching them right from wrong and taking them to church?
That one is usually met with icy silence.
I guess it's difficult to turn over one's offspring to the authorities.
That's why this woman not only gets my praise but my prayers and respect as well.
Instead of turning a blind eye, she made a huge personal sacrifice.
She knows that all of the best examples begin at home.
I do not know how it feels to give birth to another human being and to experience that life long love---that maternal bond.
My friends with kids often remark they'd do anything to protect their children.
Playing devil's advocate, I jump on the bandwagon and ask them if they knew that their child (or children)commited a crime, would they ever turn them in to the police.
Every last one of them has said no.
They couldn't bring themselves to turn their children in---no matter how horrific the act.
I counter with the statement, "So why do you bother teaching them right from wrong and taking them to church?
That one is usually met with icy silence.
I guess it's difficult to turn over one's offspring to the authorities.
That's why this woman not only gets my praise but my prayers and respect as well.
Instead of turning a blind eye, she made a huge personal sacrifice.
She knows that all of the best examples begin at home.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Post Election Reflection
While President Elect Obama’s historic campaign brought out the worst in his opponents, I will say that his election last Tuesday brought out the best in Chicago.
I have never seen that much order and love among a large diverse crowd at a public gathering ever.
Makes you kinda wonder what else Chicagoans could do if we overcame the bullshit and ugliness and came together.
And while we’re on the topic, nuts to those doom and gloom naysayers and scared rabbits that left the city with a quickness on Tuesday.
Those who said that no matter what the election outcome there would still be rioting on the streets.
It’s nice to know that we proved them wrong.
A small aside to my African American brothers and sisters:
While President Elect Obama is an impressive figure, do not place ALL of your hopes and dreams on his shoulders.
While he serves as an inspiration of what hard work and determination can do, he is not the only Black person who can achieve in this country.
Let me reiterate that point: He is not the only Black person who can achieve in this country.
I’m not sure why some of us need this stunning example to underscore this point but hey---whatever works.
You don’t have to give me that look---I know the deck is stacked but like President Elect Obama you’ve got to be three times as good (Read: Extremely Qualified) and run a tight campaign.
Oh yeah---and build a coalition.
On that note I just want to put a few things for your consideration on the table:
Can we start respecting each other and the places where we live just a little bit more? Picking up trash really doesn’t take too much time, really.
Is it possible that we could stop killing and poisoning one another? When I say poisoning I mean drugs and drug dealing.
Now here’s the tough one---Can we start holding community and elected leaders accountable for their actions?
Since Black people were usually on the short end of the stick when it came to inclusion in this country, it seems like we fell for the heady promise of someone who happened to look like us being in power.
From Hatcher in Gary, to Coleman in Detroit, to Barry in D.C.----dreams were realized but at a heavy cost.
Each of those leaders had the best of intentions, but reality was quite a different kettle of fish.
Black folks were a little new to the game. We didn’t know 40 years ago that you have to build coalitions in order to preserve the tax base which in turns pays for the cops, the fireman and the teachers.
But we know that now.
So the moral of my little tale is we have no permanent friends, we have no permanent enemies but we do have permanent interests that have yet to be effectively served by some of those in power.
To that end, call ‘em on the carpet.
Not only the politicians but the absentee land and property owners---one person (or a group of people) can make a difference.
Yes we can.
I have never seen that much order and love among a large diverse crowd at a public gathering ever.
Makes you kinda wonder what else Chicagoans could do if we overcame the bullshit and ugliness and came together.
And while we’re on the topic, nuts to those doom and gloom naysayers and scared rabbits that left the city with a quickness on Tuesday.
Those who said that no matter what the election outcome there would still be rioting on the streets.
It’s nice to know that we proved them wrong.
A small aside to my African American brothers and sisters:
While President Elect Obama is an impressive figure, do not place ALL of your hopes and dreams on his shoulders.
While he serves as an inspiration of what hard work and determination can do, he is not the only Black person who can achieve in this country.
Let me reiterate that point: He is not the only Black person who can achieve in this country.
I’m not sure why some of us need this stunning example to underscore this point but hey---whatever works.
You don’t have to give me that look---I know the deck is stacked but like President Elect Obama you’ve got to be three times as good (Read: Extremely Qualified) and run a tight campaign.
Oh yeah---and build a coalition.
On that note I just want to put a few things for your consideration on the table:
Can we start respecting each other and the places where we live just a little bit more? Picking up trash really doesn’t take too much time, really.
Is it possible that we could stop killing and poisoning one another? When I say poisoning I mean drugs and drug dealing.
Now here’s the tough one---Can we start holding community and elected leaders accountable for their actions?
Since Black people were usually on the short end of the stick when it came to inclusion in this country, it seems like we fell for the heady promise of someone who happened to look like us being in power.
From Hatcher in Gary, to Coleman in Detroit, to Barry in D.C.----dreams were realized but at a heavy cost.
Each of those leaders had the best of intentions, but reality was quite a different kettle of fish.
Black folks were a little new to the game. We didn’t know 40 years ago that you have to build coalitions in order to preserve the tax base which in turns pays for the cops, the fireman and the teachers.
But we know that now.
So the moral of my little tale is we have no permanent friends, we have no permanent enemies but we do have permanent interests that have yet to be effectively served by some of those in power.
To that end, call ‘em on the carpet.
Not only the politicians but the absentee land and property owners---one person (or a group of people) can make a difference.
Yes we can.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Teacher Teacher
I should have known what was coming when The Teacher not only knocked on my door one Thursday evening a few weeks ago, but also tried my doorknob.
I mean what’s so urgent that you have to try the knob to your neighbor’s door?
Especially during Ugly Betty.
I thought there might have been an emergency.
But by the time I got to the door no one was there.
“Odd.” I thought.
I proceeded to call my first floor neighbor while I knocked on The Teacher’s door.
I wanted to make sure everything was alright.
That’s when my neighbor, The Teacher, lost her fucking mind.
I have never---not even once----attempted to shirk my fiscal or personal responsibility to my condo association.
For her to accuse me of “being a bad neighbor” is absolutely ridiculous.
Moreover, it’s completely unfounded.
An employment and cash flow hiccup---well perhaps we can call it a burp as I was unemployed for 11 months---cannot compare to the benefits MY efforts have brought to this association and our neighborhood.
So apparently she didn’t consider that while she was bumpin her gums attempting to bully me into paying money I don’t have.
But I tend to call that the Janet Jackson consciousness---The “What Have You Done For Me Lately” attitude.
Furthermore her husband, our association treasurer, fell derelict in his duties by letting so many owners get so far behind in their assessments.
And when I say behind, I mean to the tune of almost $10,000.
That’s ten grand. Ten large. Or to put it another way, a dime to those of you who speak Soprano.
So I wonder what it was about the mounting arrearage that didn’t set off the alarms in his head.
One may never know.
But I do know that the both of them have been lobbying for some time to be paid for their efforts.
Then of course I performed my contributions to our associations while working two jobs. Never asking for, nor expecting one thin dime for my quantifiable results.
Nonetheless, I was the recipient of The Teacher’s rage that fine Thursday evening.
Despite my efforts to make this a civil conversation I was called and or told the following:
I am a bad neighbor.
I am a deadbeat.
I’m hurting the association.
But the last three comments in this bitch session were priceless.
This woman had the stones to question me about the packages that were being delivered to me. Her inference was that I had money to buy things so I must be able to pay my back assessments.
Not that it was any of her business but I did celebrate a milestone birthday in late August and decided to use some of the gift cards that I had received.
You know---the ones you can’t turn in for cash.
Oh, but she wasn’t done by a long shot.
“You know if I had a storage room full of things in the basement, I would sell them----sell anything I had not to be in debt.”
I looked at her like she had just spoken to me in Klingon.
I remember thinking that she had to have been smoking something to come up with that one.
Can you believe the audacity?
No doubt she saved the best for last.
After all of this (and missing the first 10 minutes of Ugly Betty) I asked her a simple question: “Do you think I’m the type of person who would leave my neighbors in a lurch? Do you really think that I would leave you guys holding the bag?”
Without missing a beat she said “Yes.”
Wow.
Well there it is.
All I was initially seeking was an accurate accounting of my back assessments. Instead of our treasurer sitting down with me and making me understand his numbers he left his duties up to his wife.
What more was there to say?
I bid The Teacher and her husband good night. I turned on my heel and went back to my program.
Yes there was another knock at the door and yes I saw my treasurer on my doorstep. The association’s books in his hand, but I had more pressing matters at hand.
Betty was trying to figure out who pushed her best friend down the stairs.
I was done.
Absolutely, positively done.
I mean what’s so urgent that you have to try the knob to your neighbor’s door?
Especially during Ugly Betty.
I thought there might have been an emergency.
But by the time I got to the door no one was there.
“Odd.” I thought.
I proceeded to call my first floor neighbor while I knocked on The Teacher’s door.
I wanted to make sure everything was alright.
That’s when my neighbor, The Teacher, lost her fucking mind.
I have never---not even once----attempted to shirk my fiscal or personal responsibility to my condo association.
For her to accuse me of “being a bad neighbor” is absolutely ridiculous.
Moreover, it’s completely unfounded.
An employment and cash flow hiccup---well perhaps we can call it a burp as I was unemployed for 11 months---cannot compare to the benefits MY efforts have brought to this association and our neighborhood.
So apparently she didn’t consider that while she was bumpin her gums attempting to bully me into paying money I don’t have.
But I tend to call that the Janet Jackson consciousness---The “What Have You Done For Me Lately” attitude.
Furthermore her husband, our association treasurer, fell derelict in his duties by letting so many owners get so far behind in their assessments.
And when I say behind, I mean to the tune of almost $10,000.
That’s ten grand. Ten large. Or to put it another way, a dime to those of you who speak Soprano.
So I wonder what it was about the mounting arrearage that didn’t set off the alarms in his head.
One may never know.
But I do know that the both of them have been lobbying for some time to be paid for their efforts.
Then of course I performed my contributions to our associations while working two jobs. Never asking for, nor expecting one thin dime for my quantifiable results.
Nonetheless, I was the recipient of The Teacher’s rage that fine Thursday evening.
Despite my efforts to make this a civil conversation I was called and or told the following:
I am a bad neighbor.
I am a deadbeat.
I’m hurting the association.
But the last three comments in this bitch session were priceless.
This woman had the stones to question me about the packages that were being delivered to me. Her inference was that I had money to buy things so I must be able to pay my back assessments.
Not that it was any of her business but I did celebrate a milestone birthday in late August and decided to use some of the gift cards that I had received.
You know---the ones you can’t turn in for cash.
Oh, but she wasn’t done by a long shot.
“You know if I had a storage room full of things in the basement, I would sell them----sell anything I had not to be in debt.”
I looked at her like she had just spoken to me in Klingon.
I remember thinking that she had to have been smoking something to come up with that one.
Can you believe the audacity?
No doubt she saved the best for last.
After all of this (and missing the first 10 minutes of Ugly Betty) I asked her a simple question: “Do you think I’m the type of person who would leave my neighbors in a lurch? Do you really think that I would leave you guys holding the bag?”
Without missing a beat she said “Yes.”
Wow.
Well there it is.
All I was initially seeking was an accurate accounting of my back assessments. Instead of our treasurer sitting down with me and making me understand his numbers he left his duties up to his wife.
What more was there to say?
I bid The Teacher and her husband good night. I turned on my heel and went back to my program.
Yes there was another knock at the door and yes I saw my treasurer on my doorstep. The association’s books in his hand, but I had more pressing matters at hand.
Betty was trying to figure out who pushed her best friend down the stairs.
I was done.
Absolutely, positively done.
Monday, November 03, 2008
The Bad Neighbor
I am a bad, thoughtless neighbor.
Again.
Or at least that's how my fellow board member who also happens to be my treasurer's wife sees it.
My 11 month unemployment jag was no secret.
And while I've been working for a little over three months, playing catch up on debt is a bitch. Frankly speaking, I knew that it would probably take six to nine months to get back to zero.
And yes, I am behind on my assessments.
Note: When I say behind I mean BEHIND.
I, of all people, know that good intentions don't pay a condo association's bills. Moreover I was one of several board members who voted for tougher rules on owners that fall behind on their assessments.
Irony is a motherfucker.
Like it or lump it I was (and am) behind in my assessments and had have limited e-mail conversations with our association treasurer about the actual amounts that were owed.
He said it was one amount, I disagreed and said it was another.
Because how can I start to formulate a repayment plan when I didn't have a starting out figure?
In all honesty our treasurer wasn't too swift about getting back to me and I was too busy trying to figure out how to keep a roof over my head and my utilities on.
Then I got my current position and set about making nicey with ComEd, Peoples Gas & AT&T.
But guess what happened?
Our treasurer's wife, let's call her The Teacher, jumped in the fray.
At first she called and stated that a lien could be placed on my unit.
And while I assured her that I would pay up as quickly as possible, at least things were somewhat cordial.
That changed a few weeks ago.
'Cause The Teacher took it from business to personal.
Again.
Or at least that's how my fellow board member who also happens to be my treasurer's wife sees it.
My 11 month unemployment jag was no secret.
And while I've been working for a little over three months, playing catch up on debt is a bitch. Frankly speaking, I knew that it would probably take six to nine months to get back to zero.
And yes, I am behind on my assessments.
Note: When I say behind I mean BEHIND.
I, of all people, know that good intentions don't pay a condo association's bills. Moreover I was one of several board members who voted for tougher rules on owners that fall behind on their assessments.
Irony is a motherfucker.
Like it or lump it I was (and am) behind in my assessments and had have limited e-mail conversations with our association treasurer about the actual amounts that were owed.
He said it was one amount, I disagreed and said it was another.
Because how can I start to formulate a repayment plan when I didn't have a starting out figure?
In all honesty our treasurer wasn't too swift about getting back to me and I was too busy trying to figure out how to keep a roof over my head and my utilities on.
Then I got my current position and set about making nicey with ComEd, Peoples Gas & AT&T.
But guess what happened?
Our treasurer's wife, let's call her The Teacher, jumped in the fray.
At first she called and stated that a lien could be placed on my unit.
And while I assured her that I would pay up as quickly as possible, at least things were somewhat cordial.
That changed a few weeks ago.
'Cause The Teacher took it from business to personal.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The Drama Continues
The letter finally came.
The City of Chicago Consumer Services Department has filed charges against that bootleg taxicab driver who wouldn’t take me home a few months ago.
It would seem that I have a knack of running into drivers that won’t take me to the south side.
It’s kind of like a gift, really.
While it sucks in the moment, at least in my own way I’m rooting out crappy taxi drivers.
Like a scrubbing bubble, I’m doing the hard work so you don’t have to.
Nonetheless, the form letter from Consumer Services states that the driver could “demand a trial.”
I say bring it on, homeboy.
We could have avoided this whole mess.
Everyone involved in this rigmarole could be going with the countless other things they have going on in their lives had the driver simply taken me home.
Personally I can name about twelve other things I’d rather be doing than taking a taxi driver to task over refusing me service.
It really is just that easy.
Why didn’t my cab driver think so?
If history is any precedent, the night driver of 6215 will think twice before he pulls that crap on anyone else.
South side, represent.
The City of Chicago Consumer Services Department has filed charges against that bootleg taxicab driver who wouldn’t take me home a few months ago.
It would seem that I have a knack of running into drivers that won’t take me to the south side.
It’s kind of like a gift, really.
While it sucks in the moment, at least in my own way I’m rooting out crappy taxi drivers.
Like a scrubbing bubble, I’m doing the hard work so you don’t have to.
Nonetheless, the form letter from Consumer Services states that the driver could “demand a trial.”
I say bring it on, homeboy.
We could have avoided this whole mess.
Everyone involved in this rigmarole could be going with the countless other things they have going on in their lives had the driver simply taken me home.
Personally I can name about twelve other things I’d rather be doing than taking a taxi driver to task over refusing me service.
It really is just that easy.
Why didn’t my cab driver think so?
If history is any precedent, the night driver of 6215 will think twice before he pulls that crap on anyone else.
South side, represent.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Tipping
Now that I’ve been on the hustle for about six months as a waitperson, I’ve come to recognize my favorite type of customers. This is in no particular order:
St. Ignatius Football Fans
University of Chicago Employees on a payday
Construction Workers
Groups of six or more---especially the ones who drink.
St. Ignatius Football Fans
University of Chicago Employees on a payday
Construction Workers
Groups of six or more---especially the ones who drink.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I closely monitor my customer’s drinking.
If I think you’re getting close to that line, you’re driving or walk in completely bombed, I won’t serve you. I don’t care how much money you’re going to spend. If you’re in a group I’ll at least limit you to 21 Jaeger Bombs (don’t laugh---that actually happened)
My least favorite types of customers:
People who start a conversation---“I’d like a (fill in the blank). How much does that cost?”
Demanding patrons who can’t ask for everything at the same time.
Anyone who treats you like and/or makes you feel like the help.
That last one would fall under the heading of asshole.
Now just because you or people like you may fall under the heading of “favorite type of customer” doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re a big tipper.
What let’s me know that I may get a decent (read: 20% or more) tip is the graciousness of a person's demeanor.
Not all gracious people are great tippers but all of my big tippers are gracious people.
Those are the ones I love to see coming.
But make no mistake folks, I bring a lot of waitressing skills to the table.
The busboy drops your waters, shortly thereafter I come over to greet you again and take your drink order.
Once I bring back your drinks I take your food order(s), come back with silverware, condiments and any think else I may think you may need for your meal.
In short, I make sure you don’t have to ask for anything unless you actually forget to ask me.
Despite my best efforts---and the best efforts of many other servers---these actions sometimes do not bring reward.
Most people don’t care that I have to tip out my support staff.
I lose 7% of my money off the top.
Most people don’t recognize seamless service and a pleasant experience until you forget one water refill and they base their tipping on that one incident.
Believe it or not, I’ve made my peace with those types of people.
What can a girl do?
I can’t control the world.
And for every cheap ass---and there are many---there are people who are so easy to deal with you should pay them for sitting in your area.
I get that these are hard economic times but if you have enough to go out, you have enough to leave 20%.
If not, me and the rest of my serving brethren implore you to stay home.
‘Cause in the end, you get what you pay for.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Drumbeats
It’s nice to know that I’m not stupid.
That what I’ve been seeing and writing about since 2005 wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
And because people were too greedy or too clueless to see the warning signs all of us are paying the price.
Yeah I know that borrowing beyond one’s means for a home they couldn’t afford played a huge part in this mess.
But if that was the beginning of the end, foreclosures were the final nail in the coffin.
Basing business decisions on asset back securities that can’t be reliably verified is little more than a shell game.
But I think the powers that be kinda picked up the clue phone on that one.
And now the American public is left picking up a 700 billion dollar tab.
And the punch line is it may not be enough.
But the fascinating wrinkle in this whole mess is how Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart has taken a stand against tenant foreclosure evictions.
A sense of moral justice and easy on the eyes? Like that happens everyday.
With Cook County’s foreclosures tripling this year to over 40,000, Sheriff Dart said that too many innocent renters were being evicted in a process not of their own making.
Now where did I hear that before?
Then of course a nice little community group from Albany Park neighborhood did their part by alerting the Sheriff to the fact of the innocents trapped in this foolishness.
And there’s the rub my friends.
While I’m a huge fan of personal responsibility, as a culture we’ve gotten away from the notion of looking out for the collective.
Or does that smack of socialism?
While potential subsidized housing and mortgage fraud may not necessarily be poppin’ off in
your ‘hood, it doesn’t mean that somewhere down the line it won’t affect you personally.
So while some people sat up and tisk tisked about the high mortgage defaults on the south and west side of Chicago, little did they know that similar situations were happening all over the country.
A financial storm was brewing and little was done about it in my humble opinion due to the fact of where it was happening and who was immediately affected.
That’s my nice way of saying racism and classism reared its ugly head in an incredibly genteel way.
NIMBYism at it’s finest.
Yes, some people made wrong choices in attempting to afford too much house and signing their name on the dotted line of a mortgage product whose terms they didn’t understand.
But it pretty much a foregone conclusion that the mortgage industry and a whole and the packaging of those mortgage backed assets---with little oversight or regulation might I add---was a time bomb waiting to happen.
And now it’s come to this my friends---my backyard is your backyard.
Too many foreclosures in too many neighborhoods have brought down some venerable and far reaching institutions.
Hell, the government of Iceland might have to go on Link.
So while we may not be our brother’s keeper, it may be on our best interests to listen to the far off drumbeats before they become deafening.
That what I’ve been seeing and writing about since 2005 wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
And because people were too greedy or too clueless to see the warning signs all of us are paying the price.
Yeah I know that borrowing beyond one’s means for a home they couldn’t afford played a huge part in this mess.
But if that was the beginning of the end, foreclosures were the final nail in the coffin.
Basing business decisions on asset back securities that can’t be reliably verified is little more than a shell game.
But I think the powers that be kinda picked up the clue phone on that one.
And now the American public is left picking up a 700 billion dollar tab.
And the punch line is it may not be enough.
But the fascinating wrinkle in this whole mess is how Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart has taken a stand against tenant foreclosure evictions.
A sense of moral justice and easy on the eyes? Like that happens everyday.
With Cook County’s foreclosures tripling this year to over 40,000, Sheriff Dart said that too many innocent renters were being evicted in a process not of their own making.
Now where did I hear that before?
Then of course a nice little community group from Albany Park neighborhood did their part by alerting the Sheriff to the fact of the innocents trapped in this foolishness.
And there’s the rub my friends.
While I’m a huge fan of personal responsibility, as a culture we’ve gotten away from the notion of looking out for the collective.
Or does that smack of socialism?
While potential subsidized housing and mortgage fraud may not necessarily be poppin’ off in
your ‘hood, it doesn’t mean that somewhere down the line it won’t affect you personally.
So while some people sat up and tisk tisked about the high mortgage defaults on the south and west side of Chicago, little did they know that similar situations were happening all over the country.
A financial storm was brewing and little was done about it in my humble opinion due to the fact of where it was happening and who was immediately affected.
That’s my nice way of saying racism and classism reared its ugly head in an incredibly genteel way.
NIMBYism at it’s finest.
Yes, some people made wrong choices in attempting to afford too much house and signing their name on the dotted line of a mortgage product whose terms they didn’t understand.
But it pretty much a foregone conclusion that the mortgage industry and a whole and the packaging of those mortgage backed assets---with little oversight or regulation might I add---was a time bomb waiting to happen.
And now it’s come to this my friends---my backyard is your backyard.
Too many foreclosures in too many neighborhoods have brought down some venerable and far reaching institutions.
Hell, the government of Iceland might have to go on Link.
So while we may not be our brother’s keeper, it may be on our best interests to listen to the far off drumbeats before they become deafening.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Grinding
You know what’s tougher than being out of work for 11 months?
Trying to play catch up on bills.
And when I say bills I mean the actual amount of money that I owe to friends.
If you’re thinking money and friendship is an explosive mix, you’re right.
That’s why I’m back to the grind at the restaurant during the weekends.
Do I like working six days a week---no.
Do I like being on my feet for seven hours after working a regular eight hour work day---no.
Do my feet hurt like a mother---yes.
And before you ask, yes the new job is going well, thank you.
But in these scary economic times, you have to get your grind on. Unless you have a war chest saved, you have to get on the hustle.
And that’s if you’re starting from zero.
But if you’re playing catch up, trying to make the war chest thing happen is a little tricky. It’s pointless to try to save money if you’re in debt.
And my job is a contract position so they could choose to let me go at any time.
So I’m on the hustle.
It’s tough to place a priority on who gets paid first. Frankly there are a great many people who have saved my ass over the past 11 months (and beyond).
But when I sit down to think about it, I have to whittle down my debt. And unfortunately that means I have to do that so in some type of order.
You gotta crawl before you can walk, right?
So if you happen to find me one late night a little blurry eyed at some south side dining establishment, don’t worry.
But I would very much appreciate you bringing in your non-demanding, cocktail drinking friends and their disposable income.
‘Cause I’m gonna rock it out and retire some of this debt before the end of this calendar year.
I’m a hustler baby.
Trying to play catch up on bills.
And when I say bills I mean the actual amount of money that I owe to friends.
If you’re thinking money and friendship is an explosive mix, you’re right.
That’s why I’m back to the grind at the restaurant during the weekends.
Do I like working six days a week---no.
Do I like being on my feet for seven hours after working a regular eight hour work day---no.
Do my feet hurt like a mother---yes.
And before you ask, yes the new job is going well, thank you.
But in these scary economic times, you have to get your grind on. Unless you have a war chest saved, you have to get on the hustle.
And that’s if you’re starting from zero.
But if you’re playing catch up, trying to make the war chest thing happen is a little tricky. It’s pointless to try to save money if you’re in debt.
And my job is a contract position so they could choose to let me go at any time.
So I’m on the hustle.
It’s tough to place a priority on who gets paid first. Frankly there are a great many people who have saved my ass over the past 11 months (and beyond).
But when I sit down to think about it, I have to whittle down my debt. And unfortunately that means I have to do that so in some type of order.
You gotta crawl before you can walk, right?
So if you happen to find me one late night a little blurry eyed at some south side dining establishment, don’t worry.
But I would very much appreciate you bringing in your non-demanding, cocktail drinking friends and their disposable income.
‘Cause I’m gonna rock it out and retire some of this debt before the end of this calendar year.
I’m a hustler baby.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Slinging Grub
If you happen to attend a Notre Dame football game this season and you’re a little hungry and/or thirsty, satisfy your cravings at booth 19.
You’ll know you’re at the right place ‘cause it’s next to the drunk tank.
That little stand is run by members of my hometown church, Olivet A.M.E.
In return for managing the stand and feeding the masses, the church gets a cut of the profits.
Or as I like to call it, hot dogs for homies.
But don’t tell them I said that.
So if you make it down to South Bend, say “hey” to everyone and pick up an extra item or two.
You probably need to bank some “favor points” with God by supporting a church after you woke up handcuffed in the back of a police car---again.
You’ll know you’re at the right place ‘cause it’s next to the drunk tank.
That little stand is run by members of my hometown church, Olivet A.M.E.
In return for managing the stand and feeding the masses, the church gets a cut of the profits.
Or as I like to call it, hot dogs for homies.
But don’t tell them I said that.
So if you make it down to South Bend, say “hey” to everyone and pick up an extra item or two.
You probably need to bank some “favor points” with God by supporting a church after you woke up handcuffed in the back of a police car---again.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Hey Astor Properties...
Cut the freaking grass already.
And while you're at it, pick up the trash in the yard. If you don't, 5th Ward Streets & San will do it for you and charge you for their time.
And while you're at it, pick up the trash in the yard. If you don't, 5th Ward Streets & San will do it for you and charge you for their time.
Can you believe I have to look at this shit everyday?
Now do you gentle readers understand why I'm not a fan of non resident owners?
Take the wheel Jesus.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I Spoke Too Soon
Just when I thought the 'hood was taking on an air of respectability, the restless youth have slowly but surely returned to the corner.
Great.
Not only have a hand full of the original horde started hanging out on the northwest corner, but when people cast lingering glances their way they go across Stony Island and hang out in the bus shelter.
I noticed yesterday the bus shelter got tagged with graffiti.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I wonder if the owners of the building on the corner will enforce the no loitering order or if it will take another shooting (and a fatality) before people get it?
At least it was nice quiet month. I was just hoping it would last.
(Sigh)
On a different note I found out that I'm a finalist in the Mayor Daley's Landscape Awards Contest.
While I'm excited, I figured that when you enter gardening contests and don't hear back from anyone in a reasonable amount of time that some Versailles inspired garden has kicked your garden's ass.
So imagine my surprise when I got a phone call last week stating that I was a finalist and that someone needed to swing by the flat to take a look at the flowers.
Who knew?
I'll keep you posted on both fronts.
Great.
Not only have a hand full of the original horde started hanging out on the northwest corner, but when people cast lingering glances their way they go across Stony Island and hang out in the bus shelter.
I noticed yesterday the bus shelter got tagged with graffiti.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I wonder if the owners of the building on the corner will enforce the no loitering order or if it will take another shooting (and a fatality) before people get it?
At least it was nice quiet month. I was just hoping it would last.
(Sigh)
On a different note I found out that I'm a finalist in the Mayor Daley's Landscape Awards Contest.
While I'm excited, I figured that when you enter gardening contests and don't hear back from anyone in a reasonable amount of time that some Versailles inspired garden has kicked your garden's ass.
So imagine my surprise when I got a phone call last week stating that I was a finalist and that someone needed to swing by the flat to take a look at the flowers.
Who knew?
I'll keep you posted on both fronts.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Epilogue
It’s been a little over a month since the last shots were fired at the end of the block.
And believe it or not I haven’t seen any of the restless youth that normally hang on the corner.
Now what happened, I’m not sure.
But I do know that this new addition has been made to the building:
‘Cause without the restless youth hanging out the likely hood of shots being tossed decreases dramatically.
Via records from the Cook County Assessors and Treasurer, I discovered that the owners of the building are WECAN (Woodlawn East Community and Neighbors). And while I had my doubts about their tenant screening process, my faith has been renewed.
Once again, I have no clue what’s going on down there.
I don’t know if the adults have reclaimed their households or if WECAN had a come to Jesus meeting with some (or all) of their tenants.
Somebody laid down the law.
All I know is that the bullets have stopped whizzing.
And believe it or not I haven’t seen any of the restless youth that normally hang on the corner.
Now what happened, I’m not sure.
But I do know that this new addition has been made to the building:
‘Cause without the restless youth hanging out the likely hood of shots being tossed decreases dramatically.
Via records from the Cook County Assessors and Treasurer, I discovered that the owners of the building are WECAN (Woodlawn East Community and Neighbors). And while I had my doubts about their tenant screening process, my faith has been renewed.
Once again, I have no clue what’s going on down there.
I don’t know if the adults have reclaimed their households or if WECAN had a come to Jesus meeting with some (or all) of their tenants.
Somebody laid down the law.
All I know is that the bullets have stopped whizzing.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Last Gasp of Summer
With the weather changing, I wanted to give you a last taste of summer. These are the flowers I planted for my friend's back porch.
Unfortunately all the prettiness will be gone as soon as the frost hits.
Unfortunately all the prettiness will be gone as soon as the frost hits.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Truth Tellin'
It’s time for some truth telling.
I’ve been noticing some things while walking around the ‘hood and it’s time to call it like I see it.
Traditionally, we all know Black neighborhoods in Chicago have been largely ignored by local government.
This shouldn’t be news.
Yet the thing that chaps my hide is how some people just don’t respect their own neighborhood. How they’ll just throw trash just any which-a-way.
Frankly speaking it just pisses me off.
You practically have to pull teeth around these parts to get people (or institutions) to do right.
I’m sorry, strike that----my alderman is a rock star.
Leslie Hairston is a huge reason why our little stretch of paradise looks as good as it does. And truth be told I’d wager Alderman Cochran has chimed in a time of two to make the magic happen.
I don’t know for sure but I’m just saying…
Nonetheless, no measure of governmental involvement can lift people out of a “ghetto mentality.”
Hell, yeah I said it.
Because that’s only way I can explain why someone who actually lives on my street would turn the parkway into their own personal trash can.
I don’t get why it’s so difficult for some people to pick up after themselves.
Then of course these are probably the same people who think its okay not to know where their children are at any given time.
We all know how successful that philosophy worked out around here.
My point is that when something goes wrong in the ‘hood the wailing and gnashing of teeth begin.
Community activists come out of the wood work and “demand” governmental accountability.
Well I have a news flash for you.
Why don’t those activists as well those members of the community hold each other accountable?
Why don’t we speak out as voraciously against shitty landlords who don’t perform adequate tenant background checks and rent to anyone with enough money (or government subsidy) that can afford their rent?
Why don’t we take the fight to them in their comfortable neighborhood as they make money off of ours?
And here’s the tough one.
Why don’t we try to convince the nice lady who lives down the street that her no account grandchildren who live with her do more harm than good to the neighborhood.
You know what I’m talking about.
Despite the fact no one wants to publically admit it, there’s always a home (or homes) on the block that harbors those asshole, layabouts who leech off of a family member and single handedly contribute to rise of crime.
Who bring their bootleg ghetto ass friends along with them and their collection of bad habits.
And when I say bad habits I mean felonious behavior.
I’m not advocating being unnecessarily nosy in people’s affairs but when the situation warrants questioning the status quo, you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable to do so.
After all closed mouths don’t get feed and bullets seemingly never hit their itended targets.
Turning a blind eye to the blatant foolishness that’s going on may one day come back to bite you in ass.
I know it’s not easy.
Nobody wants to be labeled as the self righteous Gladys Kravitz of the block.
But in this “Stop Snitching” atmosphere, perhaps it’s time to go back to some good old fashion community standards.
No I’m no going all conservative on you.
Then of course I don’t think our conservative friends have cornered the market on values and standards.
And no I could give a shit what two (or more) consenting adults choose to do in privacy of their home.
As long it doesn’t attract a negative illegal element.
As you see it’s a slippery slope.
My negative element could be your set of best friends.
The qualifier here is illegal. That’s the whole shooting match---if you’ll forgive the pun.
Ladies and gentlemen we’ve got to do better.
We must either individually or collectively hold those who seek to continue to marginalize our neighborhood accountable for their actions.
We have to want better neighbors who mind their children, throw their trash in the proper receptacles and live law abiding lives.
It’s not enough to hold an anti violence march.
We have to do better.
So the next time you’re up in arms at a CAPS meeting or find yourself thinking that the police aren’t doing enough to keep your neighborhood safe you need to reflect on what you’ve done to improve or eliminate a problems that surround you.
At the very least, you should at least be truthful with yourself.
I’ve been noticing some things while walking around the ‘hood and it’s time to call it like I see it.
Traditionally, we all know Black neighborhoods in Chicago have been largely ignored by local government.
This shouldn’t be news.
Yet the thing that chaps my hide is how some people just don’t respect their own neighborhood. How they’ll just throw trash just any which-a-way.
Frankly speaking it just pisses me off.
You practically have to pull teeth around these parts to get people (or institutions) to do right.
I’m sorry, strike that----my alderman is a rock star.
Leslie Hairston is a huge reason why our little stretch of paradise looks as good as it does. And truth be told I’d wager Alderman Cochran has chimed in a time of two to make the magic happen.
I don’t know for sure but I’m just saying…
Nonetheless, no measure of governmental involvement can lift people out of a “ghetto mentality.”
Hell, yeah I said it.
Because that’s only way I can explain why someone who actually lives on my street would turn the parkway into their own personal trash can.
I don’t get why it’s so difficult for some people to pick up after themselves.
Then of course these are probably the same people who think its okay not to know where their children are at any given time.
We all know how successful that philosophy worked out around here.
My point is that when something goes wrong in the ‘hood the wailing and gnashing of teeth begin.
Community activists come out of the wood work and “demand” governmental accountability.
Well I have a news flash for you.
Why don’t those activists as well those members of the community hold each other accountable?
Why don’t we speak out as voraciously against shitty landlords who don’t perform adequate tenant background checks and rent to anyone with enough money (or government subsidy) that can afford their rent?
Why don’t we take the fight to them in their comfortable neighborhood as they make money off of ours?
And here’s the tough one.
Why don’t we try to convince the nice lady who lives down the street that her no account grandchildren who live with her do more harm than good to the neighborhood.
You know what I’m talking about.
Despite the fact no one wants to publically admit it, there’s always a home (or homes) on the block that harbors those asshole, layabouts who leech off of a family member and single handedly contribute to rise of crime.
Who bring their bootleg ghetto ass friends along with them and their collection of bad habits.
And when I say bad habits I mean felonious behavior.
I’m not advocating being unnecessarily nosy in people’s affairs but when the situation warrants questioning the status quo, you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable to do so.
After all closed mouths don’t get feed and bullets seemingly never hit their itended targets.
Turning a blind eye to the blatant foolishness that’s going on may one day come back to bite you in ass.
I know it’s not easy.
Nobody wants to be labeled as the self righteous Gladys Kravitz of the block.
But in this “Stop Snitching” atmosphere, perhaps it’s time to go back to some good old fashion community standards.
No I’m no going all conservative on you.
Then of course I don’t think our conservative friends have cornered the market on values and standards.
And no I could give a shit what two (or more) consenting adults choose to do in privacy of their home.
As long it doesn’t attract a negative illegal element.
As you see it’s a slippery slope.
My negative element could be your set of best friends.
The qualifier here is illegal. That’s the whole shooting match---if you’ll forgive the pun.
Ladies and gentlemen we’ve got to do better.
We must either individually or collectively hold those who seek to continue to marginalize our neighborhood accountable for their actions.
We have to want better neighbors who mind their children, throw their trash in the proper receptacles and live law abiding lives.
It’s not enough to hold an anti violence march.
We have to do better.
So the next time you’re up in arms at a CAPS meeting or find yourself thinking that the police aren’t doing enough to keep your neighborhood safe you need to reflect on what you’ve done to improve or eliminate a problems that surround you.
At the very least, you should at least be truthful with yourself.
Monday, September 08, 2008
The Hanging Gardens
Versailles?
Are you effing kidding me?
Lushly planted Ponds? Colonial Williamsburg? A floral patchwork quilt? Prairie grasses?
Fuggetaboutit!
No wonder my container garden doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at the Trib.
As usual I sent in my glorious gardens entry hoping that the love would come my way. Disappointment reared its ugly head before but I solider on hoping one day that I’d get that fateful call.
Yet year after year the call never comes.
I look at it as another learning opportunity---a chance to refine my gardening skills and to widen my knowledge base.
No matter how much I think I’ve grown or improved, a sister can only do so much with containers.
Perhaps my thinking is too limited
Unless the overall winner is a hellafied container garden (we’ll find out next week), how can an urban gardener such as myself ever hope to complete against a Versailles inspired garden?
That's like putting a soap box derby winner in the Indianapolis 500. Can the Trib throw us small space container gardeners a bone?
Short of recreating the Hanging Gardens of Babylon I guess I’ll toil away in gardening anonymity
Are you effing kidding me?
Lushly planted Ponds? Colonial Williamsburg? A floral patchwork quilt? Prairie grasses?
Fuggetaboutit!
No wonder my container garden doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at the Trib.
As usual I sent in my glorious gardens entry hoping that the love would come my way. Disappointment reared its ugly head before but I solider on hoping one day that I’d get that fateful call.
Yet year after year the call never comes.
I look at it as another learning opportunity---a chance to refine my gardening skills and to widen my knowledge base.
No matter how much I think I’ve grown or improved, a sister can only do so much with containers.
Perhaps my thinking is too limited
Unless the overall winner is a hellafied container garden (we’ll find out next week), how can an urban gardener such as myself ever hope to complete against a Versailles inspired garden?
That's like putting a soap box derby winner in the Indianapolis 500. Can the Trib throw us small space container gardeners a bone?
Short of recreating the Hanging Gardens of Babylon I guess I’ll toil away in gardening anonymity
Thursday, September 04, 2008
A Sign of the Apocalypse
“They” say the south side is a ghetto and dangerous? There may be a sliver of truth to that but at least our flowers are real.
Jesus take the wheel.
Jesus take the wheel.
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