advice from my better self

on how to go from consuming to creating and awaken the everyday glories...

"We live in a world of theophanies. Holiness comes wrapped in the
ordinary. There are burning bushes all around you. Every tree is full of
angels. Hidden beauty is waiting in every crumb. Life wants to lead you
from crumbs to angels, but this can happen only if you are willing to
unwrap the ordinary by staying with it long enough to harvest its
treasure."
-Macrina Wiederkehr

1. tape a sheet of newsprint to the wall. draw on it every day for a week.
2. wake up with the birds, read a poem, and pick up a pen
3. teach yourself how to sew. scrounge for beautiful patterns at thrift stores regardless of the article of clothing they are attached to.
4. volunteer with your siblings -- let them choose where!
5. make a movie from your best friend's wedding video

What are your early-morning inspirations? What do you really want to do before the day recalls all the things you must do?

Today it's wandering to a completely unoriginal question that has tormented working women since the 1960s: can I take this amazing, intense job and still start a family? I have two jobs before me. One practically screams family friendly, while the other whispers, "are you nuts?" Yet all the lists I'm making lead me towards the second job. All except one -- my list of baby names. Yes, my mind wanders.

skin deep

I don't wear much makeup, but what I do wear, I wear every day. Even Sundays. It's just a habit, I guess. It's the mask I put on to face the world, even if the world doesn't often notice. Makeup counter girls are always flagging me down, thinking mistakenly they have spotted the bare face in the crowd of Georgia peaches. Apparently Atlantans spend more on makeup per capita than even Parisans (you heard it here). And I'm no exception. I have quite the pile of shiny thin sticks that lured me into buying and taking them home with me with their promise of a sparkling, alluring new me.

So when Slim sent me a link to the Cosmetic Safety Database, I wanted to know, but I didn't, because knowing would mean I'd feel compelled to change. Tonight I hesitatingly entered a few everyday items and hoped for the best.

The results? Every item scored at least a six on a badness scale of ten. The worst was a waterproof mascara. It's not looking good for my face the world face...

Ingredients in this product are linked to:
	Cancer
	Developmental/reproductive toxicity
	Violations, Restrictions & Warnings
	Allergies/immunotoxicity
	Other concerns for ingredients used in this product: Persistence and bioaccumulation, Organ system toxicity (non-reproductive), Multiple, additive exposure sources, Irritation (skin, eyes, or lungs), Enhanced skin absorption, Occupational hazards

This manufacturer:
	Compact for Safe Cosmetics signer
	Conducts animal testing

"A change is gonna come"

"Hypocrisy is the first step towards meaningful change." -- Paul Sheldon, senior consultant for Natural Capitalism Solutions.

Despite having recently escaped the mouth of a consultant, I think this may actually be true. Every time I've opened my big mouth to espouse some ideal or moral, I've been motivated to look at my own actions to make sure they are in line with the mouthing off. Those times when they haven't been, I've changed, possible more due to perceived social pressure than anything else. It's what got me to take the bus, ride a bike, stop eating meat (several times actually, but who's counting?), and decide to only look for jobs in the nonprofit sector.

I may or may not be a better person for all this, but at least my actions are a weak echo of my lofty ideals. One step at a time, I'm working to bring those ideals down to earth long enough to change, not the world, but myself. Isn't that all we can really do? Change yourself, make your actions consistent with your ideals, and realize the world may or may not follow.

Sam Cooke was talking about the civil rights movement, but the moral and practical logic of that movement has influenced every social movement since, and I think it's applicable to the environmental movement. Some people will see it as a moral imperative, others see only their bottom line ("The Greening of Fox"), and that's okay. What's important is change.

A Change Is Gonna Come

(Sam Cooke, 1964)

I was born by the river in a little tent

And just like the river, I've been running ever since

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

I don't know what's up there beyond the sky

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

I go to the movie, and I go downtown

Somebody keep telling me "Don't hang around"

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Then I go to my brother and I say, "Brother, help me please"

But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees

There've been times that I've thought I couldn't last for long

But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Choice, fate, and higher education

I often use Sergeant Serna as a foil in this space, focus on his falling sheds and sawed up couches, but today, inspired by Georgia's efforts to rid its state colleges and universities of those so-called illegals, I want to say something nice for a change.

Despite our political disagreements, I see Jose as the consummate patriot. Why? Not because he joined army. Not because he supports our nation's leaders unquestioningly. Not because he is willing to die for a strong, if vague, belief in "freedom."

It's simpler than that. It's because he chose this country. He crossed a desert, walking for days with no food and little water. He left his family, his homeland, his linguistic heritage, everything he knew and loved. Left it all behind for some shining opportunity he saw on the horizon, not even guessing it could all turn out to be a mirage. He was not born here by some lucky twist of fate. He chose the US of A, and even when it tried to spit him out, he found a way to stay.

----------------

I just sent my comments about the state's purge of its higher education system of these people it chooses to call illegal. Not understanding how people can label someone else "illegal," continue to call themselves "Christian," and go so far out of their way to NOT feed, NOT clothe, and NOT comfort those illegal people, I focused my comments on the economic impact of cutting Georgians off from higher education because their parents decided to emigrate.

If you want to comment, here's the link. Public Comment Sessions on Undocumented Students.

Sustainable South Bronx executive director Majora Carter.

"In an emotionally charged talk, Majora Carter explains her fight for environmental justice in the South Bronx. This MacArthur-winning activist shows how minority neighborhoods have suffered most from flawed urban policy, and energetically shares her grassroots efforts to "green the ghetto." Her talk from the heart drew a spontaneous standing ovation at TED, and has proved equally moving online."

Watch this. So moving, so smart, so...just watch it! Make sure you stay for the end -- she tells Al Gore how it is. Best thing I've seen all year. HERE for the video.

I'm reading up on asset-based community building, so her call to stop wasting people from the so-called ghettos, their minds, energy, and wisdom, stuck with me especially. "Stop wasting me," she says, and there's no "please" spoken nor implied.

------------

related, from Building Communities Inside Out:

"There is nothing natural or inevitable about the process that leads to the creation of client neighborhoods. In fact, it is important to note how little power local neighborhood residents have to affect the pervasive nature of the deficiency model, mainly because a number of society’s most influential institutions have themselves developed a stake in maintaining that focus. For example, much of the social science research produced by universities is designed to collect and analyze data about problems. Much of the funding directed to lower income communities by foundations and the United Way is based on the problem-oriented data collected in “needs surveys,” a practice emulated by government human service agencies. Finally, the needs map often appears to be the only neighborhood guide ever used by members of the mass media, whose appetite for the violent and the spectacularly problematic story seems insatiable. All of these major institutions combine to create a wall between lower income communities and the rest of society—a wall of needs which, ironically enough, is built not on hatred but (at least partly) on the desire to 'help.'"

"The fact that the deficiency orientation represented by the needs map constitutes our only guide to lower income neighborhoods has devastating consequences for residents. We have already noted one of the most tragic—that is, residents themselves begin to accept that map as the only guide to the reality of their lives. They think of themselves and their neighbors as fundamentally deficient, victims incapable of taking charge of their lives and of their community’s future."

---------------

ride a bike

"The bicycle should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets."
- Christopher Morley, novelist, and writer

"Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel... the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood."
- Susan B. Anthony

Yesterday I almost beat the bus home, taking back roads. Earlier on my ride I took it slow, riding with traffic downtown. I love how riding a bike is so many things to so many people, including the half-dozen or so humming around inside of me. I'm grateful I took this internship. I just needed a little push to hop on my gorgeous blue bike and get to work. Makes me feel so alive! And that's what I've got to figure this whole spinning thing is about, if it's "about" anything at all.

Restore

Definition, Restore: a) what we've spent the last two months of our lives doing to our poor house in the End b) Habitat for Humanity's home improvement center c) the sound of the earth below the concrete, pleading to be set free (today's "Ideal Bite").

The backyard saga continues. If you haven't heard (lucky!), Jose decided over the course of the past year, for reasons unknown and possibly unknowable, to carve a gigantic hole in the backyard. Never the shack's best feature, it quickly became an eyesore, a monstrosity, Jose's personal Moby Dick, pursued with a passion that bordered on delirium and his ultimate downfall (the house being Ahab's ship in this silly over-extended metaphor, let drift to the brink of destruction by a year's worth of willful neglect by three hard living men...I hear Hollywood calling).

My dad advised him, wisely, to tell me he was building a basketball court. This deception didn't last long -- he was actually planning to pave my overgrown paradise into a parking lot. A parking lot! (see www.cfpt.org for why I found this particularly ironic) Luckily, the dream went unrealized, the concrete unpoured. We decided gravel would be an earth-friendlier choice now that we have a red clay mudpile to fill in, and started building a retaining wall to keep the rest of the yard from spilling over. And by "we" I mean Slim and his bearded brother.

Someday, we will prevail. At least, that's what the neighbors are telling each other.

In the Interim:

The RJ Shack before :and after:

My favorite spot to set the evening sun:

The gaping hole is tamed but not conquered:

inspiration and action

"Nothing diminishes anxiety faster than action." -- Walter Anderson

We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action. ~Frank Tibolt

So. Action.

Between midterms and planning the rest of my life (now there's a concept -- see Plan B, This American Life) I've been busy lately. But yesterday was spent in the garden, where I'm happier than most anywhere else. It's an anxious, can't wait to finish but I hope it never ends, kind of happy. I'm a never-satisfied, what can I say? All I know is that a beer and a trowel go a long way. A chainsaw-bearing man doesn't hurt either, although combining it with the beer is questionable.

Other people's remodeling trials and tribulations being fascinating, just fascinating, here are some before/after photos from our current obsession.

Dining Room Before (above) and After (below)

Living Room after paint job:

The Monday Morning Special wall collapse:

The culprit:

Making progress:

Next stop: the backyard
(Thank you, Jose, for your parking lot inspiration.
Sadly, the artist dreams alone, and that particular vision will never be realized.)

life and death

9 Chickweed Lane

Lately I've been thinking about how murder came to be considered entertainment. We have a ruddy fascination with death, but not just death of any kind -- death by natural causes is your classic chick flick recipe (Beaches, etc).

Does that make the violence as entertainment culture exclusively male? I confess to a certain guilty pleasure that involves watching things getting blown up on the big screen, especially if it's a woman pressing the button (like Michelle Rodriguez in S.W.A.T.)

But human-induced death seems to be where our culture spends most of its entertainment dollars. It is thought that killing makes us godlike, I suppose. To me, a supremely fallible human being, goddessness is the last thing I'd want to aspire to. It's hard enough trying to live a fully human life. Apparently it is for politicians and the religious too -- our so-called "culture of life" seems to thrive amidst a yang that is our entertainment culture of death.

We've lost much of what past cultures learned about what makes us human, in contrast with that mysterious force in the universe we often personify as God or the gods. Greek mythology is rife with the dangers of trying to out-god the the gods. I guess it just goes to show how long this has been going on -- the endless decline of the human race. Like old JT said, "it's just a lovely ride." Unfortunately, although I admire that sentiment, I can't seem to live by it. I need to look at how things are and see how they could be. The idealist in me, I guess. Luckily I can use that same outlook on myself, otherwise things would be bleak indeed!

Colombian Army investigated for role in 2005 Colombia Peace Community massacre

The wounds from this horrific event were still fresh when we visited in October 2006, and the community was still very much under attack by the armed forces, be they paramilitary, guerrilla, or official army.

The Congress is still considering aid to Colombia and whether to sign a so-called "free trade" agreement with Colombia.

Reuters is reporting that "Colombia plans to buy new helicopters and aircraft and send more troops to counter rebels after approving a $3.7 billion, four-year investment plan to upgrade its military...to consolidate a U.S.-backed crackdown on Marxist rebels. Washington has funneled around $4 billion in mainly military aid to Colombia since 2000, helping key ally President Alvaro Uribe battle the drug trade that partly fuels Latin America's oldest guerrilla war." '

This is bullshit, of course, but it's official bullshit. Taken in the context of the clip below, it doesn't quite add up, now does it? But then, we're not terribly concerned about making good policy sense when the terms "drug war" or "terrorism" come up.

Apparently for now most of this "surge" will be funded by a proposed tax on the wealthy and on companies, but at the same time the Bush administration wants to approve another $3.9 billion over seven years for Colombia. Currently Colombia receives the most US foreign aid of any country outside the middle east. Fortunately for the Colombian populace in the countryside, the people who suffer the most whenever the civil war flares up or moves to a new front, Democrats in Congress are not buying this wholesale due to the recent paramilitary scandal that has put eight Uribe politicians and a former police chief in jail for ties to the Ps. Demobilization hasn't turned out to be all it was cracked up to be...

clipped from www.amnestyusa.org

Amnesty International Welcomes Advances in Investigations Into 2005 Colombia Peace Community Massacre

The Colombian army soldiers who are under investigation reportedly belong to the Alacrán Company of the Counter-Guerrilla Battalion No. 33 of the XVII Brigade. The massacre reportedly occurred in the context of a large military operation in the area.

Amnesty International welcomes news that Colombia's Office of the Attorney General is investigating 69 army soldiers for the killings on February 21, 2005, of eight members of the Peace Community of San José de Apartadó, including community leader, Luis Eduardo Guerra, two children aged 11 and 6, and an 18-month-old infant.

More than 160 members of the Peace Community have been killed or "disappeared" with impunity in the last 10 years. In light of the killings, Amnesty International said the announcement of the investigation into the massacre could represent an important step forward in seeking redress for some of the victims.

To my Reader

I think part of my share of the bounty is just lost. And I kind of like that.

clipped from blindcopy.blogspot.com

The real reason why no one reads your (my) blog.

Ever wonder why the traffic to your blog is so terrible? I too am concerned about increasing my readership, so I decided to gather some information to help me decipher why my traffic sucks.

What I found wasn’t encouraging.

Consider the following facts:

There are approximately 6.5 billion people in the world.

Only 16%of the world’s population (1 billion people) have internet access.

16% of the world’s population is illiterate, which leaves only 840 million readers.

Of that, only 20% of the world’s population speaks English, leaving 168 million readers.

Only 30% of internet users read blogs, leaving 50 million readers.

50 million people, sounds like a lot right? Wrong!

Technorati is currently tracking around 50 million blogs.

That’s pretty simple math, 50 million blogs for 50 million readers.

Therefore, with an average of only 1 reader per blog, then who’s reading your blog?

That’s right, just you. Depressing, ain’t it?

we love our "news!"

3/5 of the most e-mailed stories of the day from the AJC are sports-related. I'm just saying.

1 of the 5 is celebrity gossip, and one is traffic-related -- not surprisingly since all of a sudden "traffic" and "congestion" are top news-getters in Atlanta nearly every day.

• Georgia player's mom killed; fiancé arrested
• Kerney set to become a free agent
• Traffic problems expected Saturday
• Former NBA Star Dennis Johnson Dies
• Blogger Sued Over Topless Aniston Photo

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Have you ever noticed how everything is clearer under water? I wish my shower could last all day. It's where I get my best ideas, feel most creative, can accomplish any and everything. Then I turn off the spigot, and the energy turns off with it. Spirals down the drain. My only consolation is that the plumbing in this old shack is horrid. It's all probably still in there, somewhere.

Midterms are next week, thus the extremely rare blog post. Yesterday the army finally cleared "Private Presley's" crap from the driveway. What passes for a big day in my life...

This week I'm mildly obsessed with personality types according to the Jung-based Myers-Briggs test. Slim there picked up a book we're both reading called "Do What You Are" that is supposed to help you pick a fulfilling career based on your type. I think over time I've gone back and forth between and INFP ("the idealist") and an ENFP ("the inspirer") -- it's pretty revealing stuff for reeking slightly of pop pysch. What are you? Take the test here.

article of my week

"Refugees Find Hostility and Hope on Soccer Field" -- amazing story. Nice to see it's the top e-mailed story of the week for the Times, as well. Clarkston soccer team made up entirely of refugee kids. Below, a few excerpts.

About Clarkston:
"From 1996 to 2001, more than 19,000 refugees from around the world resettled in Georgia, many in Clarkston and surrounding DeKalb County, to the dismay of many longtime residents."

About the coach:
"Coach Mufleh’s car is also an equipment locker, and her work continues off the field. “You suddenly have a family of 120,” she says.

Upon hearing of the low wages the refugee women were earning, Ms. Mufleh thought she could do better. She started a house and office cleaning company called Fresh Start, to employ refugee women. The starting salary is $10 an hour, nearly double the minimum wage and more than the women were earning as maids in downtown hotels. She guarantees a 50-cent raise every year, and now employs six refugee women. "

About the kids:
"In 1997, in the midst of Liberia’s 14 years of civil war, rebels led by Charles Taylor showed up one night at the Ziatys’ house in Monrovia. Jeremiah’s father was a low-level worker in a government payroll office. The rebels thought he had money. When they learned he did not, they killed him in the family’s living room."

"“What makes us work as a team is we all want to win bad — we want to be the best team around,” Qendrim says. “It’s like they’re all from my own country,” he adds of his teammates. “They’re my brothers.”"

About the field:
"Ms. Mufleh and Ms. Ediger, the team manager, spend the holiday vacation visiting the players’ families. On Dec. 26, Ms. Mufleh receives a fax on Town of Clarkston letterhead."

"Effectively immediately, the fax informs her, the Fugees soccer team is no longer welcome to play at Milam Park. The city is handing the field to a youth sports coordinator who plans to run a youth baseball and football program."

Are you a Cultural Creative?

About 50 million Americans are. Go here to find out.

I learned of this demographic subgroup reading "The State of Non-Profit America." Salamon states

Cultural Creatives differ from both "Modern" and Traditionalists," the other two dominant population groups in America, by virtue of their preference for holistic thinking, their cosmopolitanism, their social activism, and the insistence on find a better balance between work and personal values than the Moderns seem to have found. Although they have yet to develop a full self-consciousness, Cultural Creatives are powerfully attracted to the mission orientation of the non-profit sector and could well help to resolve some of the sector's human resource challenges.

Demographer Paul Ray, who coined the term, has this to say on his website:

While Cultural Creatives are a subculture, they lack one critical ingredient in their lives: awareness of themselves as a whole people. We call them the Cultural Creatives precisely because they are already creating a new culture. If they could see how promising this creativity is for all of us, if they could know how large their numbers are, many things might follow. These optimistic, altruistic millions might be willing to speak more frankly in public settings and act more directly in shaping a new way of life for our time and the time ahead. They might lead the way toward an Integral Culture.

The same site has a nice list of books/websites on the subject of "living lightly."

MARTA-dreaming

Gwinnett, which approved MARTA in theory but refused to pay for it back in the 1970s, may get another chance. As a new convert to the Gwinnett concept, forgive me for getting excited about this! Article in today's AJC here.

Other asides:
On the train home tonight, a large group of mostly bleached blondes discussed how much their kids love riding MARTA (they like to bounce, said one.) I thought the ringleader was going to etch the window glass with her enormous rock.

Which brings me to another observation. When did it become practically obligatory to give a girl a diamond if you wanted her to make you coffee (or vice-versa, in my particular case) for the next several decades? There's a definite generation gap. With mine and the thiry-somethings I know, they all sport shiny left ring fingers, and the hand-talkers pose a definite risk to their conversation partners.

Now that I've (somewhat ambivalently regarding the ring, full-heartedly as far as what it represents) joined this club (with a conflict-free ring, way to go Slim!), I've taken to noticing other womens' entries. Because make no mistake, it is a contest. The way my gal pal grabbed my hand and clutched it to her chest the first time she saw it (her own is more overwhelming) said it all. It's like those decoder rings that came in cereal boxes when we were kids -- they are keys to hidden, mysterious worlds, and it didn't matter how much granola you have to eat to get one, it's all about the ring. For some people anyway.

For the Colombian women I knew, especially displaced Colombian women, the ring was more of a barrier wrapped up in an access code. It was the key to a club they did not belong to. These women had lost everything, often including their husbands. Yet somehow they were still able to listen to my happy shiny story and smile. Maybe that's what every bit of metal and stone wrapped around the fourth finger says: ask me how it happened, and I'll glow.

Reason # 2 why I'm ring-obsessed: this week I'm picking up vestiges of a much sadder story, to be sold on ebay. I wonder who would buy a failed attempt at happily ever after? ... Maybe someone who knows that the attempt to lasso some kind of forever happy is capable of dissolvin in a moment, only to solidify once more with a look. And that behind every look, each touch, all the stray words and silent deeds is the choice to love and be loved.

quit dreaming and get a life

In "Mixed response on rail funds," in the AJC last week, passenger rail advocacy group GARP describes its modest proposal for commuter rail: $62 million to fund the Lovejoy line, $38 million to take it to Griffin, and $10 million to start work on the Athens<-->Atlanta segment.

According to GARP, at $62 million, these lines of rail would cost less than two miles of a six-lane highway.

But when the group sent its proposal to our elected officials in the state legislature, they got this reply from state Rep. Don Lakly (R-Fayette County). "Please don't tell me how many folks will use public transportation; they just will not. Quit dreaming and get a life!"

It's good to see Southern civility is alive and well down at the Capitol.

With apologies to Willie -- to all the cats I've loved before

To all the cats I've loved before
Who traveled in and out my door
I'm glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the cats I've loved before

To all the cats I've loved before
The winds of change are always blowing
And every time I try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry me away

To all the cats who shared the foot of my bed
Who now are someone else's cats, or dead
I'm glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the cats we've loved before

I must be getting old -- I always want to start blogging with a mini weather update -- it's foggy today, with chances of missing kitties. I can't believe I left the garage door open all night! My bike was still there when I got up this morning, but Fats was gone.

The stricken feeling I got made me realize I sometimes pretend to be sorry about things, like putting the knives pointy side up in the dishwasher, but this was the real thing. Fats, aka Kiki (after that annoying WestEnder whose screechy voice and clawing ways reminded me of the new kitty), had been afraid to crawl out from the tiny corner in the garage between a cardboard box and a tire all week. Two days ago I started trying to get Kiki to venture outside the garage. Last night I guess he did.

I had picked him up from the WE house Sunday, at the X's request. I had three cats when I left for Colombia last January. Only Kiki was left when I got back. Sammy disappeared a few weeks after Max died a horrible death at the jaws of some neighborhood dog gang. I was more shaken by it than I'd expected, cried about it for weeks.

Poor Sammy...they were pals, hanging out together for seven years since we brought them home from the shelter. Their little animal personalities developed with each other as the foil -- Sammy was always the timid one, while Max was funny and outgoing. Sammy was always my favorite -- his skittish ways and pitiful mews were so endearing.

Baby Kitty (I clearly didn't name this one) showed up one Halloween night, then disappeared after hopping into the back of X's truck one afternoon and leaping out right before he merged onto the highway, nothing but a kitty-shaped streak in the rear-view mirror.


But I've lost a lot of cats in my day. First Mustard, then Custard, then Pepper and Salt. Kitcat disappeared, his brother Milky Way lived a long life before expiring recently, and the mother of them all, Dora (for the way she always seemed to be on the doorstep when your hands were full of groceries). I dunno, maybe I'm all catted out.

Life in Lilburn

It's been a while since I had anything blog-worthy to say, if ever I did (never send your blog to your brothers). Then this morning my reflection in the mirror asked me what I'm waiting for -- if I want to write, I should write. The past two weeks are a blur, but I feel like my head is finally spinning back around, slowing down as it settles in.

Life in Lilburn...idyllic, yet isolated. It's the United Nations out here, without the interpreters and infighting. Our ice cream truck man (yes, there is an ice cream truck man, Virginia) wears the garb of the Nation of Islam as he passes out the melting treats to kids from India and Mexico, while their black, white, and mixed neighbors look on. Growing up in a very segregated DeKalb neighborhood, moving to an even more segregated West End Atlanta neighborhood, it's hard for me to believe.

And none of this was planned. White flight hit Gwinnett and turned out, in my eyes at least, to be a blessing. Not even a blessing in disguise, just one wearing an outfit that was unexpected, even exotic, to the white southerners who lived here before. Today Gwinnett is "Georgia’s largest and most diverse public school system with more than 100 different languages spoken in our schools..." Gwinnett promoters can brag that their school system "consistently outperforms our peer systems in the state and ranks among the best school systems in the nation in achievement." (Link to full article)
What created this human splatter, this array of languages, dress, and yummy food? Most of Atlanta ranks among the country's worst for residential segregation. It's changed so much since I was a kid, but it's still huge. Out here (I always call it that -- Slim loves it), out here, the housing is cheap and schools are good. Sure, people spend too much time in their cars and no one walks anywhere, but I'm starting to understand why people choose to live "out here" and to be less judgmental about that decision.

But given how much Gwinnett has changed, there's no reason why "out here" has to remain so isolated. We live three miles from the nearest bus stop. No one in the metro area should live three miles away from the nearest bus! I just got my bike back from my sister, but would never even consider riding down Lawrenceville Highway. So I have to use the sidewalks -- illegal, yes, but potentially lifesaving as well. And every time I ride the bus I hear people complaining about how long it takes them to get downtown. It's 25 minutes in a car with no traffic (which happens once a week, on Sundays) but about two hours by bike to Gwinnett County transit bus stop to Doraville MARTA station to Five Points, or an hour and a half by bike to the Indian Trail park and ride to Gwinnett County Express Bus to Five Points.

My bike, how I love it...

If Gwinnett were to approve the MARTA sales tax (or another funding mechanism), it could finally get the train station and quick access to metro area public transportation this diverse, thriving metro county deserves.

Recent article in AJC -- "Another look at MARTA rail: Board representative asks for feasibility study on bringing system to county" By PAUL DONSKY, , BEN SMITH

A group of Gwinnett County leaders is pushing for an extension of MARTA's rapid rail line to the booming area, 16 years after county voters soundly rejected a plan to join the regional transit system. Officials with the Gwinnett Village Community Improvement District, which spans the Norcross and Lilburn areas, say the issue deserves to be revisited because the county has changed dramatically since the last MARTA referendum in 1990. Gwinnett's population has more than doubled, and its traffic problems now rival the nation's worst bottlenecks.

Public comments on the article here. The first comment (and a fairly typical one) reads:

By Stephen W December 6, 2006 05:19 PM | YES! Please bring MARTA into lower Gwinnett’s booming areas!

It’s time to move past the old racist arguments that it will bring crime. Anyone who’s actually been on a MARTA train will tell you that riders aren’t loaded down with stolen DVD players and Plasma TVs —Yes Gwinnett, let’s move into the 21st Century and say YES to this one!

image of Gwinnett County Courthouse, by architect Edmund Lind, from the GA Encyclopedia

la despedida

Colombia called. Said they'd call back, no message.

Photos from the massive going away blast:

Ellie, don't kill me for posting this - it's so cute! And I asked David's permission...