Sunday, July 20, 2008

City Sense...

You'd like to think that it's something you get when you live in the city - a transformation caused by some of the pollution around you that gives you an innate and super ability to live, work and play in a city.

But really, it's just an understanding you come to.

Sure, after living in an urban environment, you develop some "abilities." For example, you should learn to parallel park a car - when I use the word, should here I don't use it in a suggestive sense, but in the sense that it's something that will happen as you park your car over and again on a curb in any populated neighborhood.

You learn how to feed a meter. Regularly.

You learn that bicycling is a more environ-friendly mode of transit and that it's generally faster than driving.

You learn (and this is something that I've hit on before) that amidst the beauty of a thing created (like a cityscape) comes the reality of a world that exists in brokenness caused by sin.

It's a funny place where everything can be simultaneously right and wrong. It is right for you to be where you are because you know, in one way or another, that you're called to be here. It's wrong because there are others calling you to move away.

It is right because in the confluence of ideas, art, culture, science, education, government and technology there is understanding that image bearers are able to imitate and reflect the God they may or may not know and recognize. It is wrong because in the confluence of crime, destruction, racism, discrimination, murder, greed and indifference there is an understanding that image breakers are willing and desirous of rebelling against the same God.

There's not really any one thing that got me thinking about this on this time out writing. If you've stopped here before, you know that it's something that comes up from time to time when I write; meaning that I'm thinking about this a lot. A few good examples would suffice to describe the sense that my city (Philadelphia) exudes.

When you're walking the streets here, you can experience two (or more) entirely different "cities," in the course of a mile or two. It's not uncommon to walk down a street and see a home valued at $600k+ next door to one that's dilapidated, condemned or (even worse) the base of a drug dealer. Center City is what you'd be familiar with if you came to visit, however. Center City is where all the large buildings are. It's where all the fun stuff is - the kind of things you do when you visit a city. While there, you'd probably also visit the Art Museum area and Old City. You'd notice that the streets in Center City are relatively clean, that there are friendly people to help you when you're lost and that there's a healthy police presence.

The sense of Philadelphia changes, however, if you go a mile north or a mile south of Center City. As you travel down Broad, away from the big buildings, it wouldn't be uncommon to see a neighboring car's window roll down and watch trash free float from there to the ground. Towards the fall, there are sometimes whirlwinds of trash as the weather gets a little more windy. The trash thing spans all colors of skin and economic status, apparently...

If you ride a train in, you might be awed by the striking beauty of the city (if coming in from the North or East, this view is to your left). Looking off to your right, it's easy to be sickened by the amount of garbage piled beside the train tracks - the amount of bad graffiti tagged on train tunnels and abandoned buildings.

The sense of a city, mine at least and I imagine most, is conflicted. The sense you develop in interacting with it is the same. It's easy to question trust in other people. You wonder when and how you should trust them. While in a town watch course, La learned that when you're walking the streets in any part of the city, you should always be aware of what's around you by turning your head every few seconds.

We've found too that there can be a cultural mistrust at large. It doesn't always seem like a good thing to some that younger people of a different color of skin or background would be moving to their neighborhood. Gentrification has detrimental ramifications and years of discrimination won't be left buried under the guise of hope and promise. In my mind and heart, I don't believe that anything apart from Christ can really work to heal this sense of deep sadness and betrayal that some (not all, trust me, not all) of our African American neighbors hold - it's complicated and ingrained in a few generations who have learned that you can't trust and that you'll never get anywhere for it.

City sense is not necessarily something you get, but something you become a part of. The sense of a city will exist with you in it, or with you away. It isn't a super power or ability, but it is something to interact with - something that can affect you and something you can affect.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

A World Removed (thoughts on glacier)...

Crown of the Continent.
It's another name for Glacier National Park in Montana.

It's all kind of weird. I think that I had just come to an exuberant love of the city (more specifically - Philadelphia). I love the fact that there are people everywhere. I kind of half expect life with Jesus to be like that (what, with one glorious city and all). I love the fact that I can take my bike onto the train to ride to work. I love the fact that I can walk down the street to buy the sandwich.

Montana was something different though. It wasn't just rural...it was wild. Literally, Glacier is said to have some of the most pristine and still untouched wilderness on our continent. There has not been a place that has gripped my core like Montana did, and it has really been hard to get over the experience of just being there.

We visited a few places - we stuck it out in Kalispell while waiting for Laura's folks (unfortunately, they had a 12 hour flight delay). We checked out Whitefish, which was more or less a touristy ski town. We bought groceries in Columbia Falls.

Nothing, however, matched the view we had when we awoke in the morning. The view on the top of this blog is Lake McDonald. The time is around 4:30 in the morning - we were on our way home.

The sun didn't set until after 11:00 pm.

Most mornings, by the time I was out of bed, it was already impossibly bright outside. I would step out into the crisp June air (this isn't a typo or a misplaced colloquialism - it snowed in Montana the day before we arrived in Montana) and took in a deep breath of mountain, spruce, wildflower and glacier. The abundance of wildlife was incredible (to include flora). I've never seen so many deer in my collective life as I did while just hiking the park.

Glacier didn't have the highest peaks I've ever seen.
She didn't have the deepest rivers.
But she was a breathtaking view of unkempt wild.

When I board the train to go to work...I close my eyes and imagine being there again. I know that the unfortunate fact is that a place like that is just not where I'm supposed to be. I don't know if a place like that is where anyone is supposed to be permanently. There's a sort of wreaking of havoc going on when the desire of man to obtain beauty destroys that which it is trying to contain.

If you'd like to see it, go soon - they say at this rate, the glaciers will melt by 2030...

And, for those of you wondering - My love for the city is still there, it's just that something else is trying to crowd for space.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Emphysema...

I read this story tonight.

Funny how people with stardom, with talent, with ability...all live lives that seem to be a little empty - kind of clawing at the air to find satisfaction.

The story made me think of my aunt. As far as I know, she didn't have much talent and definitely didn't have stardom. She was born during a time in which racism was institutionalized (the 30's) and a place where it was accepted and at times promoted (Atlanta, GA). Towards the end of her life, she started working on our family tree.

She also smoked.

I remember visiting her in a hospital in Atlanta. I didn't want to be there. I've never stopped to think of how many hospitals I've been in since then, but it's been a lot. I remember seeing her in a gown. I remember being in a room with windows that didn't open, with machines that never shut down... with tubes and tape attached all over my Aunt Nelda's body.

She also had emphysema.
The doctors said that if she didn't quit, she would kill herself.
So she quit. She quit for about a month or two, that is.
Now...she's quit for good.

She was able to quit before my dad did - neither, by their disdain for cigarettes, but by the sheer inability of a corpse to inhale the sweet nectar of nicotine.

I haven't thought of her much. Now that I think about it, I can't remember much about her - nothing except how excited I was to give her a call when we visited my granny.

Now...I'm thinking of all the times I've been in a hospital in the past few years...