I Thank God

I thank God that I never got one of those barbed wire tattoos. Thank you for God for granting me the wisdom to not look like Nick Lachey.

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.

True, true

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How Deep Do/Will Your Roots Go?

"So my wife and I have been in Chicago for like five years, I'm in finance, we really like this school, we've checked maybe like five or six, but loved this one because it's just more diverse; you know because of all the Hispanics in the neighborhood, which we love, LOVE IT, we didn't want our kids to go to school or live with all white people, we love the connections the school has with the Joffrey and the Civic Opera, Miles has the option to learn Mandarin, Chinese, or Farsi. It's close to our favorite restaurants, cafes, and guerilla theaters. I can walk or bike here. I know we'll stay here through 8th, but that's probably it. No, I mean Chicago, I don't want to deal with the
hassle of navigating high school. I mean if he doesn't get into the selective enrollment..what other choice do we have, what, send him to Clemente, no, no, no, not going to do that.( chuckle) I think we will probably go back to Columbus, where my wife is from, but, but enough about me, what do you think?" he said. I replied, " Let me tell you a story...

Chicago was once full of swamps and prairie. The swamps were drained, now gone; today Chicago's native prairie is fraction of it's ground cover, closer to being choked out for good by the succession of non native species. Such species, like common grass and weeds, grow in the prairie's place; one would never know the prairie was once there. The roots that went down deep into to land, have been replaced by the shallow, adding little to the land except manicured lawns; easily uprooted when drought comes.

35 and here to stay!

I just turned 35. I think I just entered a new age demographic also. I believe I am now part of a "child-rearing group, ages 35-44". What is interesting about that demographic and what I believe to be true, based on what I am hearing from young urban professionals I hang with is this, this demographic is now struggling with which neighborhood to raise children in and which school to send their kid to. Really for many of this age group, in the middle class, when it comes to kids, Chicago has it's limits. The suburbs or one's hometown now has cache. Not me, the only thing I have to look back to for a reference is Chicago, I've been here forever, born and raised here for 35 years, before gentrification and globalization caused people to make false choices. My age demographic will not force me to leave this city I love.

Buzz Words

Proximity doesn't create community.
Diversity is nothing more than proximity if you aren't pursuing a relationship with those around you doifferent than you.

What Have You Been Up To?

Ever since October I've been reading like crazy. I've consuming nonfiction books like candy. I've been into books that are about race, racism, racial identity, multi-ethnicity in my life, in my neighborhood, and in churches, the drug war and mass incarceration, and books on ADHD. It's been nourishing my curiosities. These are the books I have read and I recommend them to anyone interested in those topics.
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindnedd

More than Just Race

Divided by Faith

United by Faith

Half and Half

The Code of the Streets

Beyond Segregation: Multiethnic Neighborhoods in the United States

Just Passing Through

I believe in putting down roots and stability. My roots in the city go back to the mid-50's and my family did not flee when it was a historically opportune time to leave for many Chicagoans. Chicago was never a way-fare station to my family. My decision to be in Chicago and how to invest my family's lives here is not based on the market. It isn't based on stress on whether my child will get a better education here or somewhere else.
I'm not interested in improving the CPS just for people passing through. I'm not interested in activist parents using clout and money to only improve schools that affect only their children. The CPS, Emmanuel, claim school improvement is for all, but what about the other 86% of students whose families can't raise $100 million dollars for one school. Why such heavy emphasis on improving the schools for families that are waiting for the market to pick up and leave to the suburbs?My son is a third generation CPS student. Put down roots, stay a little, invest time, money, and care into the other neighborhood schools around the city, not just your own.


http://www.chicagobusiness.com/article/20120324/ISSUE01/303249977/special-report-the-parent-trap

True Chicagoan: Pastor Tomas

My aunt's friend, Pastor Tomas, appreciates the storefront church. I like what he has to say about it. "Within the city of Chicago, much can be said about small church ministry in comparison to big church ministry.

For instance: Most of the larger congregations (150 or more) are primarily commuter churches. For fellowship people leave their neighborhoods; driving a distance to fellowship for about an hour or two with others doing same. Storefront churches on the other hand tend to be anchor churches where both the pastor and the members usually live within a two mile radius. From the visiting friend to the invited guest, from the vagabond to the drunks, from the local children to the next door neighbor, from the immigrant to the lost soul, from believers hurt within a big church to the sheepish trying once again to reconnect with God but from a smaller fellowship, small churches receive the few, the special and the unique. Often established in areas where big churches can not locate, because of the lack of parking or space, they tend to remain small but with big hearts.

For all of my pastoral ministry, I have served within storefront churches having membership of less than 150. As either a Senior Pastor or an Associate Pastor, I still walk the streets of the surrounding neighborhood or the local park where I grew up. Though I have a Master's of Divinity degree, I still focus on doing "presence" ministry or just straight-up outreach in Humboldt Park. I believe that doing "church" is a matter of of anchoring - anchoring the local community to the local temple and to its ministries. Though little glamor, economics or prestige is associated with this type of ministry, I still love it!."

A Deadly Weapon

Have you ever met someone who used knowledge as a weapon? Have you even met anyone that used book smarts as a tool to bludgeon you? Have you ever witnessed someone taut their pedigree to subjugate others. Have you ever met someone use logic, wit, and rhetoric to manipulate?

A True Chicago Greeting, Part II

In the last post I reflected on a Chicago greeting based on race. Recently though, another greeting has evolved, particularly in gentrifying neighborhoods or where people have moved that are not, in local's eyes, supposed to be living there. True Chicagoans ask this, how long have you lived here? Now lots of newer residents must clarify how long they have lived in the city.As evidence, see any Logan Square, Humboldt Park, Pilsen, or Bridgeport Everyblock posts.(Do True Chicagoans use this?). I think born and raised is the standard now, for a True Chicagoan.

A True Chicago Greeting

As I sat in a restaurant talking to my friend, who was born and raised in Cincinnati, he asked me if I knew the difference between Chicago and other places across the country, I said, no. He said that in other places, people, upon meeting a stranger,ask you where you are from, in Chicago, upon meeting a stranger, people ask, what are you.

Critical Thinking? You Think Too Much!

Educational theorists argue whether critical thinking can be taught or not. I can tell you this, whether or not it is something that can be taught, I know it can be devalued and if it is innate, it can be suppressed. I spent much of my life, probably until about 26 years old or later filtering my decisions and ideas through the lens of what other people thought. I think valuing and owning your own thoughts and ideas sometimes comes through an emancipation process; realizing you are an autonomous person subjugated and inundated by family,media,opinions, history, context, and fear. I feel like I have become emancipated, but am I really free?

A New Birthday

Liam is so obsessed with his birthday, mostly for the attention he gets and the presents he dreams about getting. He bugs us everyday, asking us when his birthday is and how many more months does he have to wait. But today, we have a new day to celebrate. My son became a Christian last night. He's been asking Katie about it for a couple of days. When she was reading the story of Lazurus he told her he wanted to be baptized. Katie said that usually you become a Christian before you get baptized, so he said he wanted to do it. Katie knelt down with him and prayed a prayer with him and explained to him about forgiveness of sin and Christ's death, and repentance. Then Liam asked Christ to live in his heart. Just a simple prayer, then a quiet celebration of his new birthday, January 28, 2012. I cried when I heard it, it is beautiful that our son is responding to the soft nudges of something beyond himself and that his decision to follow Christ was organic and has altered the course of his life. I have so much hope and thanks for the promise God has for my son's life.

Cottage Industry

It has finally snowed here, two times in a week's time, about six inches.Here in Galewood there is a little cottage industry, shoveling snow for money. Maybe people are too busy to shovel their own snow, that is certainly the case with grass during the summer. So, kids in the neighborhood capitalize on this fact, and have been shoveling in the dough, at five bucks a pop. Yesterday i saw a crew of cousins, shovel four homes in the time I shoveled mine.

This morning I saw the same kids coming home from work on other blocks. I also noticed a few middle age and older men roaming around ringing bells on this block and the one to the north. I called one man over, " Are you trying to get shoveling jobs?" I asked. "yeah, I haven't got a job yet." he said. I said , " those kids over there are charging $5 and getting all of the jobs." " I charge $10, I got a family." clearly annoyed that I had stopped to talk with him, " you got a job for me?" " Sorry, I just shoveled my place." i replied. He walked away.

To me, this is a small picture of the economics of the city. Low skill jobs are scarce, there are too many competing for those jobs, wages are depressed based on the fact there those that will work for a fraction of cost that labor demands to take care of basic needs.

Riis Park Sledding Hill

Just went sledding with Liam at Riis Park. This hill is slightly better than Humboldt Park's. You can still see the skyline and the decline is at a steeper angle, so you fly. Some teenagers were sledding with Pam cooking spray sprayed on the bottom of their sled. Awesome! We had a fun time

I Choose....Galewood

The move from nomadic society to an agrarian society took place when these wanderers were able to position themselves in the perfect location near a surplus of food, water, and shelter to survive. Once that place was found, they made a decision to settle down; to grow families, to grow societies. Two blocks west of Narragansett, on the shore of an ancient freshwater lake, we now find our family having chosen the very same...

I choose being ok with driving everywhere. I choose being ok going to the Brickyard, and going to Jewel, Chipotle, Lowes, Target, Walgreens, Chase, McDonalds, Verizon, and Starbucks. I choose having to worry about my lawn and how loud my kids are getting, I choose not to worry about not sending my kids to the local school or going to the local church, I choose living in a neighborhood where I don't have to start everything from the ground up, I can come alongside individuals that are and have been fighting for the neighborhood for generations, I choose to focus on growing my family here, I choose not have my family live through another drive-by, I choose not worrying about selling out, about moving from a "more real" neighborhood 3.4 miles east. I choose not to feel guilty about my freedom to choose and that I have everything I need to survive here. I choose not to coast on my lessons from my past, but grow. I plant my family on this fertile land and will harvest, here.

Could it be?

I've been raggin' on my new neighborhood in the last couple of posts, but I actually have simmered down. I am open to liking, not just surfacy liking, but actually open to the fact that I may someday love living here.

Where do you live?

"Galewood. " " Where's that?!

The Soundtrack of my Hood

Noise is comforting, it gives you reference, it creates a narrative of your immediate world. Scientifically, noise is sound waves or vibrations. The vibrations are detected by the ear and turned into nerve impulses that are understood by the brain. Hearing requires sensitivity to the movement of molecules in the world outside an organism. Neighborhood noise gives sensitivity to movement of life in the community outside of your home.
I think the soundtrack of Keystone gave me comfort. Fire engines, police cars, abulances, salsa, bacahata, banda, and hip-hop blasting, someone yelling up to a window, Le-o, Hec-tor, cars hitting the speed bump at full speed, the faint hum of North Avenue, Pulaski, or Grand Avenues, the F-word punctuating every conversation, all of these sounds ever so comforting and piquant.
I was scared at how quiet it was around my new place. Silence is scarier than a gun shot, silence stirs up the unknowns, the what if's, the turn my back, the who's theres. It was so quiet that you could hear crickets during the day. As days went by I longed for some drama on the street, maybe a curse filled fight, or a dope fiend passed out on my lawn, nope just landscapers mowing lawns, that is all you see and hear around here, landscapers mowing lawns. The soundtrack of my hood, Galewood, is crickets and lawnmowers. This doesn't comfort me, it gives me a reference of what I'm dealing with here, and it is surely a narrative of the lack of life outside my home.

One Month and 3.4 miles Away

Tomorrow marks one month of living in our new neighborhood. One month and 3.4 miles from my old life. How did we leave the most intense, stretching,fearful, courageous, painful, and exhilarating seven years of living we ever had lived. I don't know if I can tell my last few months of my time on Keystone it went from horrible in June to beautiful by the end of September, I think I will have to have to get into that at a later time. However, Katie and I had come to the point where all the doors were open to go, and we felt peace about stepping forward. Here we are now, in our Chicago bungalow, in Galewood. Both Katie and I are feeling different emotions about being here, I guess the perfect phrase to sum up our life here is, now what?

True Chicago: Jewel bag

Any True Chicagoan,when needing a plastic bag, will inventively request a Jewel bag, named for the Jewel-Osco grocery store. Jewel bags are used to throw out garbage and junk, best practice is to double Jewel bag it then throw that into a Jewel bag that you stuck into your plastic garbage can or waste basket, because lining your can with a Hefty cinch bag, with Febreeze, is for yuppies.

No True Chicagoan will pack lunch in a Tupperware container or a thermal insulated lunch bag, no, a True Chicagoan uses a Jewel bag, with a sammich wrapped in aluminum foil or paper towel, a banana, and a can of something or other.

Jewel bags are the favorite of old ladies, hence the nomenclature, bag lady.

Hang out in any Polish or Eastern European neighborhood neighborhood and you'll notice the Jewel bag as people walk down the street.

The Jewel bag, the True Chicago carry all.

Making Decisions

We are now going to leave our church and look for another one. Our decision took the long road, through prayer, anguish, humility, and perseverance, but after 2 1/2 years we will be leaving New Life Humboldt Park . We told our pastor, said we weren't growing, we weren't not connecting with the community among other things. We waited so long because we know that leaving a church sometimes isn't amicable. Our pastor said he has learned to hold people loosely in leading a church, then he gave us the blessing to transition on, we said we wanted to remain involved in the church in ways we could, he agreed, we prayed and that was it. We expected it to play like a break-up and what we got was analogous to a blessing a father gives to a man asking for the fathers' daughter's hand in marriage; a sort of acknowledgement that in order for her to grow he needs to accept, trust, let go, and entrust her to another. We believe in going about things in the right way and feel like we made the right decision.