NATO in Chicago

 It's so hard living in a world where you surround yourself with those that think and believe the same things as you do. Whether you are protesting NATO downtown or sitting in front of your t.v. and complaining about them on FOX NEWS, how are you going to change anyone's mind, opinion, or beliefs by preaching to the choir. I think the greatest hope for peace is pursuing a relationship with those that you judge, hate, or want to break.


"Belief"

Is there anyone who
Ever remembers changing there mind from
The paint on a sign?
Is there anyone who really recalls
Ever breaking rank at all
For something someone yelled real loud one time.

                                          -JM

Need vs. Calling

Do you know the difference between the trying to solve the needs of this world and your calling? Many times I've got them mixed up.

The Black Middle Class

I called my old neighbor
from Keystone
to help my new neighbor
capture some animals
that had gotten into his roof

After I asked my old neighbor
what he thought of my new neighbor,
he said he was weird.

Weird, I asked,
How?
Remember when we
was talking?
Yeah?
Well, he called me over
while I was talking to you.
So?
I didn't like his, tone.
What do you mean,
was his tone, too wh...
No, just weird.

West of Humboldt Park

I never heard anyone who lived in West Humboldt Park actually say they lived in West Humboldt Park, never. It has to be something created by the real estate industry, or created by some community organization in an effort to describe their location, something to the effect of, "We serve an area west of Humboldt Park, south of Augusta, north of Chicago Avenue, and east of Pulaski." Somehow the name morphed into West Humboldt Park and that name got appropriated, and today that is what the area is called on the southwest border of the actual community of Humboldt Park, mostly to non-profits, City and Federal agencies, the media, and those not from the area. If you actually asked a resident, like some teenager hanging out on Chicago Avenue, what neighborhood he lives in, he may say, "I'm from Harding and Iowa" or some other cross street. It is just interesting, this fetish for neighborhood naming; the need to name a space, not only that, it's interesting to try and backtrack the history of neighborhood identity. Attaching a name to a space has all kinds of sociological, political, and economic meanings and implications. In the past the area was named for, among other things, the farmer that owned the land, then maybe the parish, then the cross streets, then maybe the gang territory, then maybe to sell houses, then maybe to organize a community, then maybe to give context to a crime on the evening news. As my church moves deeper west of Humboldt Park, the actual park, will the area around the church, which just bears the names of the cross streets, or unofficial names such as Grand City or Cameron City, the names given to the area by the gang bangers that inhabit the space; will the area be defined anew by us? And what sociological, political, economic, and moral implications will our definition of the space leave on the area we are being called to serve?

A Different World

It's warm out. Everyone is out along Chicago Avenue and it's side streets. I went into the meeting feeling I was a resident of the neighborhood, where my church will be moving. I left feeling like I was in a different world, just one mile south of where I use to live. I think what overwhelms me about the boundary of Chicago to Grand, Kedzie to Pulaski is the randomness of it all. There are so many people on the street, and so many random acts of movement and stimulation that it's hard to get an easy feeling. You don't know where to look, but everywhere. It's not fear, maybe confusion, then fear, of the unknown. You just don't know what is going on and why it's going on. My church will be moving shortly to the intersection of Grand and Division, the literal intersection intersection of "race and poverty", as my pastor puts it, between black and Latino. Straddling that line is going to be work for me, but it's where our church needs to engage and where I'm preparing to engage. We can't fall over too deep, one way or the other. Right now, I fall to the north of Grand. I much prefer the area north of Grand Avenue. At least it's randomness I can wrap my head around.

Love Thy Neighbor

Here are ways not to love your neighbor: call the cops on them, curse them out, beat them when they look at you hard, patronize them, gossip about them, take their snow shovels, salt thier lawn, assault their cat, stomp their garden, break a 40 oz. of Cobra Malt Liquor on their welcome mat, play loud, bass pumpin', house music until 4:37am., call gangbangers on them, say go to hell, mentor a local kid and then move away abruptly, volunteer at a local shelter then tell someone to get a job, open your home to neighbors and show them all of your nice stuff, litter, drive to the suburbs to shop, let your dog piss on their lawn, in the same spot, two times a day, send them stale cookies then, open your shades and laugh at them.

Oil Stains and How Not To Make Friends

When I first moved here one of the things that impressed me about the neighborhood was that there were no oil stains on the asphalt. You might think this is crazy, but I notice random things like that. Well, one day I had my car towed to a mechanic, the truck driver couldn't get it out because it was at a weird angle so he suggested using diesel to let it slip out. At first I was hesitant, I intended to ask if it would stain the asphalt, but I didn't say anything because diesel is gas, right. Well the next morning I realized I was wrong, the guy left a huge stain and streak in front of my neighbors home. I felt so guilty that had created this oil stain problem I decided to clean it up. I thought Kitty litter would work so I borrowed some of Charlie Cat's litter to lay on the stain, and while I was at it, on other little stains on the block. I left it there to soak up, but forgot to clean it up, then it snowed. As the snow melted a couple of days later, I realized I had created a disaster. I eventually cleaned up the sticky goo and cat litter stains when it got warmer, but I began noticing that oil stains started appearing all over the block, it annoyed me because I couldn't figure out which car had been making the multiple stains. I became obsessed with oil stains, noticing them in other neighborhoods, other blocks. I noticed how pretty the asphalt looked in Oak Park or in other suburbs and wished for my asphalt to look the same. I decided if I couldn't figure out which car was making the messes, I'd just clean up the messes. So I learned laundry detergent and a good scrub works, litter on fresh oil works, gasoline works. Just don't try cleaning up oil with you 5 year old, they step in the oil and you'll be obsessed about where they step after that. It came to a point where I lost all composure and was checking underneath cars I suspected as oil leakers and watched carefully for any drips. One night, I found a drip, a culprit, and doing what any sane person would do, I drafted a letter telling the car owner that they were leaking oil all over the block and need to get the problem fixed. I gave them my name and phone number I'd they wanted to discuss anything. This made Katie, Eric, and Emily upset and they felt embarrassed for me, how i sound elitist, and sad that crazy is how I want my new neighbors to perceive me. I told them of how proud I was for saying what needed to be said, how I was protecting the beauty of our block, and that it probably helped the individual whose car was leaking, that they were happy to know they had a problem they didn't know existed and now it would be fixed. Two months later while working low to the ground, I looked up and noticed the white car I put a note on, roll up to the curb. Out came my neighbor's wife, she barely acknowledged me. Then it clicked, now I know why my neighbor didn't let me use his edger hog.

Prone to Wander

Im sitting in the library, on my Ipod, reading some blogs, in the background is Liam and Ava's night night mix, im half listening, i pick up this part of a hymn's stanza,
"Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love."
And everyday, I stray and leave the God I need and love, for the shallow desires of my immediate wants. I'm glad that as the hymn say, " in kindness, oh how he pursues me.", and i can come back to him.