Community and Neighborhood
Tuberculosis Water
2009 has brought czb to many places in America, and to some interesting conclusions.
Santa Fe reminded us about green chile posole and cold Dr Pepper at Cowgirl. It took me into the raw beauty of Tesuque, a grace matched by a pervasive effete on the other side of the coin that still thinks community is shorthand for three part harmony. (See Rodney King: ”Can’t we all just get along?”). Then again, it’s rather near impossible to ride the breeze down Bishop’s Lodge adrift in the pinon and lavender and not wonder if harmony is the point and that there’s nothing ephemeral whatsoever about the wonder one finds on the Pueblo. Indeed the magic will shake you to your core.
You might not think the Rust Belt offers similar life conferring waters to the parched. But I have found the struggling communities of Western Pennsylvania and Western and Upstate New York the very definition of courtesy. These shrinking places – so glibly labeled as such by the no nothings in the community development field from New York City and Columbia, MD – may actually be on the cutting edge of Schumachering America forward out of their SUVs and into public libraries and high school gymnasiums to rediscover what we’ve known all along: yesterday’s modernists were wrong when Corbu thought we could plaza people to consensus, and today’s Gropii are incorrect when they assert we can TND a subdivision into a community.
From the scented beauty of the Atalaya where one can see all things and that all things are possible, to the rusting Lake Effect where people know how to be genuinely thankful in a wonderful Midwestern sort of way, 2009 also brought us to the postdeluvian Louisiana Atchafalaya. Another cold Dr. Pepper, some sweet potato fries and a po’boy so good it’ll make you cry. From 10 degrees in January in Franklin Pennsylvania snow and ice to 95 and humid along the Causeway to Mandeville, people are hungry everywhere for authenticity. Maybe not in the experience of place – maybe so. But most certainly for real community. Not facebook’s rolodex and not a pattern book, either.
2009 also reintroduced Ascension, where the white egrets and Live Oaks slow one down, and allow for people to have a nice conversation in Lamendola’s grocery and the best fried shrimp I’ve had in years at the Seafood Corner Exxon on Airline Highway. There, the struggle is the same, and just as righteous: how to keep our community together, hold onto what’s important.
This is the lesson Park Silly reinforced in relecting a genuine communitarian to Mayor, affirming that our beliefs are what guide us, our “faith in a seed”, our own ecologies of commerce moreso than the transect. We rediscovered the endless tension between our (good angel’s) hearts and the economic imperative to pay as we go, not kick the can any longer, and nowhere was this lesson reinforced more than in the impoverished SW Atlanta neighborhoods surrounding but not truly ever invited to be a part of downtown. There we have confronted the truly ugly as captured in racially defined predatory lending by HSBC and Wells and Chase and Citi, and equally true beneficence in the effort to partner in these communities and help regain a measure of health and confidence (which, incidentally come from treating each other respectfully, and not, as some would have us believe, from the mere requirement for a center and some edges).
This year brought us to New Mexico, Pennsylvania, New York, Louisiana, Utah, Georgia , and now as we begin 2010, to Virginia again. This past spring, we explored the raw beauty of an asparagus field in April in the historic Northern Neck, where re-oystering is showing we can do some things as a people. And now we head towards Norfolk, which has some really big boats. I mean big. Ships.
Before we get to Norfolk though, there’s going to be a stop in Nashville and Oklahoma City and Albuquerque, and along this road we hope to reacquaint with czb’s wonderful friends. It’s been a good tough year. There’s so much work to do.
Charles Buki
Community and Neighborhood
2009 has brought czb to many places in America, and to some interesting conclusions.
Santa Fe reminded us about green chile posole and cold Dr Pepper at Cowgirl. It took me into the raw beauty of Tesuque, a grace matched by a pervasive effete on the other side of the coin that still thinks community is shorthand for three part harmony. (See Rodney King: ”Can’t we all just get along?”). Then again, it’s rather near impossible to ride the breeze down Bishop’s Lodge adrift in the pinon and lavender and not wonder if harmony is the point and that there’s nothing ephemeral whatsoever about the wonder one finds on the Pueblo. Indeed the magic will shake you to your core.
You might not think the Rust Belt offers similar life conferring waters to the parched. But I have found the struggling communities of Western Pennsylvania and Western and Upstate New York the very definition of courtesy. These shrinking places – so glibly labeled as such by the no nothings in the community development field from New York City and Columbia, MD – may actually be on the cutting edge of Schumachering America forward out of their SUVs and into public libraries and high school gymnasiums to rediscover what we’ve known all along: yesterday’s modernists were wrong when Corbu thought we could plaza people to consensus, and today’s Gropii are incorrect when they assert we can TND a subdivision into a community.
From the scented beauty of the Atalaya where one can see all things and that all things are possible, to the rusting Lake Effect where people know how to be genuinely thankful in a wonderful Midwestern sort of way, 2009 also brought us to the postdeluvian Louisiana Atchafalaya. Another cold Dr. Pepper, some sweet potato fries and a po’boy so good it’ll make you cry. From 10 degrees in January in Franklin Pennsylvania snow and ice to 95 and humid along the Causeway to Mandeville, people are hungry everywhere for authenticity. Maybe not in the experience of place – maybe so. But most certainly for real community. Not facebook’s rolodex and not a pattern book, either.
2009 also reintroduced Ascension, where the white egrets and Live Oaks slow one down, and allow for people to have a nice conversation in Lamendola’s grocery and the best fried shrimp I’ve had in years at the Seafood Corner Exxon on Airline Highway. There, the struggle is the same, and just as righteous: how to keep our community together, hold onto what’s important.
This is the lesson Park Silly reinforced in re-electing a genuine communitarian to Mayor, affirming that our beliefs are what guide us, our “faith in a seed”, our own ecologies of commerce moreso than the transect. We rediscovered the endless tension between our (good angel’s) hearts and the economic imperative to pay as we go, not kick the can any longer, and nowhere was this lesson reinforced more than in the impoverished SW Atlanta neighborhoods surrounding but not truly ever invited to be a part of downtown. There we have confronted the truly ugly as captured in racially defined predatory lending by HSBC and Wells and Chase and Citi, and equally true beneficence in the effort to partner in these communities and help regain a measure of health and confidence (which, incidentally come from treating each other respectfully, and not, as some would have us believe, from the mere requirement for a center and some edges).
This year brought us to New Mexico, Pennsylvania, New York, Louisiana, Utah, Georgia , and now as we begin 2010, to Virginia again. This past spring, we explored the raw beauty of an asparagus field in April in the historic Northern Neck, where re-oystering is showing we can do some things as a people. And now we head towards Norfolk, which has some really big boats. I mean big. Ships.
Before we get to Norfolk though, there’s going to be a stop in Nashville and Oklahoma City and Albuquerque, and along this road we hope to reacquaint with czb’s wonderful friends. It’s been a good tough year. There’s so much work to do.
Charles Buki
