Friday, May 21, 2010
Good Neighbor Exercise



Good Neighbor Exercise


I live in a house that has a small porch at sidewalk level. It is never used for "porch-sitting. It is too small -- too immediate to the thoroughfare. And at the back we have a deck for sitting and watching the New York skyline. In front I keep a small yard that I like to think of as "woodland glen." There are two small trees (both have been given cute names) and pachysandra and hostas and they blend into a nice, green green palate. I have to sweep and rake pretty regularly. I've come to realize that I take this opportunity to speak to neighbors -- mostly greeting and smiling. I've come to enjoy raking and sweeping. There is something gainful, busy, useful, responsible, caring and considerate about sweeping the sidewalk. I always respect businesses that sweep their part of the thoroughfare. Municipal services only go so far. I recollect that when we lived in Harlem -- at the corner of 151st and Amsterdam -- in a busy, gritty neighborhood. It seemed almost impossible to keep ahead of what people threw away without a care. Butterfly McQueen, the legendary actress-comedienne who played Prissy in the film, Gone With The Wind, did her part. We remember seeing her sweeping the sidewalk directly in front of the elementary school, P.S. Something Something, that was on Amsterdam Avenue between 143rd and 144th. It was a simple commitment to clean up the entrance so that the children would not begin the day entering a trash-strewn building. Some people laughed and said she was nuts.
My mother was committed to keeping the front of her house and the sidewalk adjoining it trash free. This is never, ever an easy job. She was sensitive to what was said about African Americans -- as citizens and homeowners. Me, too. So, even if I didn't enjoy sweeping, I'd do it.
I remember the morning my mother pretended to sweep the porch so that she could watch the happenings a few porches down the street. The woman's second baby came faster than her first had and she was caught at home and the EMS people came and had to deliver the baby in the house. The woman's better friends were racing back and forth trying to help and my mother was gathering intelligence. By the time we were in that working-middle neighborhood of northwest D.C. some rural ways were good and gone. Nobody really did a lot of porch-sitting. And after air conditioning, folks gave it up altogether. So it became that sidewalk sweeping was how people hailed and recognized each other.
Anyway, it is good exercise. It is gentle, but can be gorilla cardio if you want to get ambitious. In the fall, the leaf imperative usually gives you chance to see how tall folks' kids got and what super hero/character is the big noise with the elementary school backpackers. I get a bit nostalgic recollecting Butterfly McQueen and my mother and father and all of the careful, circumspect aspirants to middle-class who brought their brooms out to the public thoroughfare.
I've joined neighborhood clean-ups where I now live. But I'm more enthusiastic about regular, sidewalk maintenance and the opportunities for petting other peoples' dogs and admiring the children, bemoaning the lack of parking and giving voice to yourself. I'm really trying to encourage more audible "good mornings" and "good evenings" among my diverse, but often suspicious neighbors. Yes, yes, sweeping and dogs are a good way to meet the other people on your block. And you exercise your body and your spirit of community civility.

Posted at 10:01 am by Tourmaline

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January 5, 2015   08:39 PM PST
 
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Tourmaline
Female
New Jersey







 
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Onward only! I can't turn back and I won't turn around.

Celebrating eleven years of swimming!




stroking onward and upward
swimming for the wall 2010




“Centuries later historians would ridicule as a numbers game attempts to count the millions forced to suffer the trauma of the transatlantic passage. Yet for those who witnessed the murderous raids by Arabs, Europeans, or hostile black Africans upon their communities, for those who were discarded on their march to the African coast, for those who were banned to the hold of the ships, for those whose bodies were cast overboard, for those who made it to the unknown on the other side of the ocean, every single one mattered. For every single woman, every single man represented the difference between life and death, between the "I am" and chattel, between history and the void, between the voice and silence. For every single one defined the whole.”

from Black Imagination and the Middle Passage by Maria Diedrich, Henry Louis Gates, Carl Pedersen


“As you were speaking this morning of little children, I was looking around and thinking it was most beautiful. But I have had children and yet never owned one, no one ever owned one; and of such there's millions -- who goes to teach them? You have teachers for your children but who will teach the poor slave children?
I want to know what has become of the love I ought to have for my children? I did have love for them, but what has become of it? I cannot tell you. I have had two husbands but I never possessed one of my own. I have had five children and never could take one of them up and say, 'My child' or 'My children,' unless it was when no one could see me.
I believe in Jesus, and I was forty years a slave but I did not know how dear to me was my posterity. I was so beclouded and crushed. But how good and wise is God, for if the slaves knowed what their true condition was, it would be more than the mind could bear. While the race is sold of all their rights -- what is there on God's footstool to bring them up? Has not God given to all his creatures the same rights? How could I travel and live and speak? When I had not got something to bear me up, when I've been robbed of all my affections for husband and children.
My mother said when we were sold, we must ask God to make our masters good, and I asked who He was. She told me, He sit up in the sky. When I was sold, I had a severe, hard master, and I was tied up in the barn and whipped. Oh! Till the blood run down the floor and I asked God, why don't you come and relieve me -- if I was you and you'se tied up so, I'd do it for you.”


Sojourner Truth, 1856


This text of her address was recorded by the acting secretary of the Friends of Human Progress Association of Michigan, Thomas Chandler, and published in the Anti-Slavery Bugle




 
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