My apartment in the former Walcott School bldg in Denver, Colorado where Mamie Eisenhower is said to have attended school.
I am fortunate to call NW DC home. But first time I saw my street in a working class DC neighborhood, I cried. And it wasn't due to happiness; I purchased, wholecloth, my imaginings of what it was going to be like there and the mere idea left me in tears.
In Colorado, I lived in this great reconverted schoolhouse where Mamie Eisenhower was said to have attended; for the whole time I lived there however, I mistakenly thought it had been Eleanor Roosevelt. It was a fortunate mistake, because I certainly came to feel her words there in my rooms..."you must do the things you think you cannot do..."
My apartment in the former Walcott School bldg in Denver, Colorado where Mamie Eisenhower is said to have attended school.
Washington, DC, for the average person, is expensive. Most starting their careers here must have roommates to afford to live in the city. I was starting a second career in food, no less. The idea of having a roommate in my place in life didn't appeal.
After a search lasting over a year, in mid 2012, I was fortunate enough to find an affordably priced 1-bedroom apartment, with the reference of a friend and current tenant. Our landlord is a kindly gentleman; mid-eighties with eyes that twinkle. While now rather successful, he grew up down south in a family of sharecroppers. He understood the struggle, albeit his was a harder version of my current struggle. He and his wife, who made the decision to rent to me despite my limited income and my cat, seemed mostly interested in getting a sense of my character. His apartments and property were old and rich in spirit and history in the way my Denver schoolhouse was; his property felt well-loved, and carefully maintained by him.
The rest of the block, though, just felt rundown and dilapidated to me. I was ashamed to have, at this point in my life, such visible reminders of choices made that had brought me precisely here.
Oh, I was grateful, to have a place in which to finally unpack my tattered and over-stimulated inner home; I am an introvert and had been un-housed and dependent on the spare couches, graciousness and moods of family and acquaintances long enough in my adventure-filled, "I'm doing the things I think I cannot do" move to genuinely appreciate that. I just had that damned joust, Doubt, as my intimate companion. Still do. And Doubt barges in all entitled and judgmental, as it will, with sharp questions and assumptions that in the harsh light of living close to the edge, make one uneasy and afraid.
This is the first space in my new home that I put together. My tea shelf. I can look at this space in my kitchen and feel a sense of peace and calm knowing, that all is and will be well. The tray of cheap aluminum belonged to my late mother. It is, in other words, priceless.
At some point, burgeoning trust makes an appearance. Numbers are exchanged, favors asked and received. In my case, the mere presence of my cat resulted in the vanishment of the longstanding mice problem. My neighbors were so grateful to forgo securing their food in crates! We all settled into our little homes more securely then. That pretty much cemented my place among our 4-unit community.
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Kitteh heroine whose litter boxes, allowed to ripen just slightly, won the decades long mouse infestation. We're back to daily litter scooping now. Erm, most days.
One of my jobs often has me arriving home at 3 am. Recently, at this hour, I made my way quickly from my car to my door. I was on auto-pilot--exhausted and physically hurting from my long day, cold, mindfully alert, and yes, afraid. The drunken soliloquy of my neighbor across the street, whom I've never actually seen despite intimate familiarity with the pain he shares with us, his neighbors, provided background nachtmusik.
A young man, hooded, hands dug deep in pockets against the cold, was striding purposefully on the sidewalk in my direction, just as I was toward him. Our paths would cross. Well before they could do so, when he was still further away than near, he greeted me, his voice mindful of the hour, but loud enough for me to hear at that distance, friendly, polite, conversational: "Hello sis." A verbal pause, a cadence of steps, as we approached closer. And then, "Please be safe on your way home tonight." Our eyes met, long enough to see one another, we shared a smile as we passed, and I replied, "Thanks, you be safe now too" (tonight and always, you wise and precious brother). I didn't do or say what I needed to, what I will if we are gifted with crossing paths again in our neighborhood. This young man, knew I was afraid whether because of the hour, the neighborhood and/or him and he called out to connect with me in order to disarm my fear. His empathy for me touched me so deeply that sudden, stinging tears welled from an emotional place I both recognized and didn't. I noticed I felt sad and disquieted too, that his own experience and that of others, had taught him so early in his life, the indignity of diffusing other people's fear of him, for their own comfort, was sometimes necessary and perhaps could help keep him safe and alive.
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Once, and for my entire professional career spanning 15 years, I lived in Denver, Colorado. Now, I am proud to call DC home and I can say I've settled, finally into my new city, long enough for the light to have changed and familiarity to have softened its blunt edges, together with the uncertainty about my path and any felt alienation. Most significantly to me, for the very first time in my life, I feel like I'm genuinely at Home in a place. Like I fit.
New home of the red sideboard from the first picture in the diary. While not a material person, I notice that certain pieces from the easier time in my life feel comforting/reassuring/anchoring to have around.
Sooooo, I'm inviting my DC neighbors--city and surrounding, met and unmet, to come help me build DC Kossacks, as one of the newest chapters of Connect! Unite! Act!
With the creation of this DC Kossacks group is established a rudimentary structure that we can use to organize opportunities for us to get to know each other through regularly scheduled meet-ups. In so doing, we can put faces with names, begin conversations that continue, establish connections with one another, and have fun together in meet/meat space. We can build a network and meaningful community together that sustains and supports common cause in our individual areas of interest and activism, as we live our lives in our chosen city and make things better for all of us who live, work or play in the District.
More below what is so obviously orange hued hope springing eternal...
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