To be honest, I've always felt smug driving through the newer subdivisions of north Peoria. My personal definition of tacky Americana has been those huge McMansions crowded against one another. After all, what is the point of a owning mini estate if you can smell your next door neighbor frying bacon? What is the point of an 8,000 square foot home with doors you can easily/accidentally put a foot through? Crown moulding is nice, but crown moulding composed of glue and saw dust? Puhleeze. What is with all the houses built with three sides of expensive brick and vinyl siding on the back? Do suburbanites think they are fooling anyone? I've always reserved an arrogant chuckle for lawns so big as to require a riding lawn mower, complete with tiny trees more accurately described as sprouts. More taste than money, I guess.
I spent this afternoon at a barbecue of a co-worker who lives in Dunlap. You know what? Dunlap is looking pretty damn good. Her house had all the cheapo elements previously mentioned, but I was too busy enjoying the surround sound system - echoing throughout the ENTIRE house - to notice. Her kitchen is something that would bring Julia Child back from the dead, complete with slate countertops and commercial grade appliances. You could put a king size bed in most of the closets. And the bathrooms... My God in heaven! Truly an ode to American plumbing. I could live in her master bathroom. Jacquzzi. Bidet. Chandelier. A shower with two heads. The surround sound was in the John too, along with a flat screen TV. Okay, and now the best part...
The neighborhood. These folks were nice, never snotty, and laid back. Kids were everywhere. Kids ran in and out of each other's homes, they rode bikes in the middle of the street, they chased each other up and down pristine sidewalks. This is the childhood I had. Apparently I just need to spend half a million bucks to provide it for my offspring. Everyone's kids, including the Catholics, attend public school. Mothers I talked to said Dunlap's Ridgeview Elementary doesn't have more than 20 students per class.
Can I tell you? Not ONE car drove over the speed limit. I didn't hear one freakin' boom box or feel a single car radio vibrate the house while driving by. No litter anywhere. Not even a cigarette butt! I didn't know how much fear I had incorporated into my being until this afternoon, when it dawned on me, I was more relaxed than I had been since... God, who knows? For the first time in a long time, I felt completely safe. And, yes, there were at least a couple of black folks living on the street. It doesn't matter what race you are. I have come to the conclusion that if you have a mortgage costing you at least $3,000 a month, it is all but guaranteed your neighbors will have their shit together. Lawns get mowed. Trash gets hauled to the curb. Snow gets shoveled. Peeling paint, repaired. Kids decently behaved. Well, there were a few brats and sullen teens, but their parents were present and accounted for, and they knew it.
I'm not sure why I live where I do anymore. What am I trying to prove? What are the chances my neighborhood will ever improve? Statistically, it is more likely to fall further into decline. Where are all the thugs going to go? Jail? Seattle? Siberia? The kids roaming the streets are unsupervised and probably unloved, and my staying isn't going to change it. My tax money hasn't succeeded in doing squat to improve the public schools. It's depressing as hell and life is short.
They may be in debt up to their receding foreheads in Dunlap, but they are also having a great time.
So, take my all brick house, my hardwood floors, my charming moulding and baseboards, my heavy six panel doors, my towering ancient oak trees... all yours... for the right price.
When I told my girlfriend I was considering a move to her neck of the woods, she smirked rather smugly, handed me an unnaturally cold Amstel Light, and said, "Pol, everyone was wondering what was taking you so long."
Sunday, September 11
Katrina: Millionaire. Billionaire. Zillionaire...
One of today's headlines reads, "Katrina May Cost Over $300 Billion." Wow. Who is doing the math on that one? I'm not saying they are wrong, I'm just wondering where they got their numbers.
Congress put their stamp of approval on a $50 billion aid package for Katrina's victims. I don't fault their generosity. I just want someone to explain how government can tap the Magic Money Fairy over night to aid those suffering the effects of a natural disaster but constantly claim poverty when it comes to public education, health care, anti-terrorism measures and social security?
How much of that $50 billion will ever appear? Of the dollars that do make their way out of D.C., how many of them will fund low interest loans to those businesses and individuals actually hurt or even slightly impacted by Katrina?
It was revealed this past week that Peoria's own Smoothie King was the recipient of $70,000 low interest 9/11 loan. Sucking down a tutti frutti smoothie must somehow soothe Peoria's collective 9/11 grief.
Nope. I'm not a liberal. I just believe it is wise to question government's priorities. Lately, I've been wondering if they have any.
Congress put their stamp of approval on a $50 billion aid package for Katrina's victims. I don't fault their generosity. I just want someone to explain how government can tap the Magic Money Fairy over night to aid those suffering the effects of a natural disaster but constantly claim poverty when it comes to public education, health care, anti-terrorism measures and social security?
How much of that $50 billion will ever appear? Of the dollars that do make their way out of D.C., how many of them will fund low interest loans to those businesses and individuals actually hurt or even slightly impacted by Katrina?
It was revealed this past week that Peoria's own Smoothie King was the recipient of $70,000 low interest 9/11 loan. Sucking down a tutti frutti smoothie must somehow soothe Peoria's collective 9/11 grief.
Nope. I'm not a liberal. I just believe it is wise to question government's priorities. Lately, I've been wondering if they have any.
9/11. Where were you?
When recalling national tragedies the question used to be, "Where were you when President Kennedy was shot?" More often than not the answer today is a youthful smirk followed by, "I was just a twinkle in my parent's eyes."
New generation. New scar. There has been some healing, but the scar from 9/11 is tender, easily inflamed and ugly. Wars have been declared. Countries have been invaded. Laws re-written. 9/11 casualties continue to swell. 1,900 American military dead. Countless Iraqis dead.
At what point can our government declare the War on Terrorism won? What are the chances we will ever be able to find and stop every single enemy before they attempt to harm us? How many little Iraqi boys are growing up hating America? How many Iraqi men grew up on a steady diet of U.S. hate following the first Gulf War?
That's one of the lessons learned from 9/11, isn't it? By saving Kuwait, we created an entirely new and unexpected enemy.
There is a difference between supporting the troops and supporting the cause. I haven't heard of any soldiers returning home only to be spit on by a fellow citizen. Lesson learned from Vietnam. I have profound respect and gratitude for those who sign up to protect, fight, and put themselves in harms way for this nation. I am also keenly aware those who are sent to fight our wars have no say in creating them.
Operation Iraqi Freedom doesn't seem to be freeing anyone. We may have successfully removed a cruel dictator from power, but we haven't done anything about the environment that created his power. We can't. Kurds. Sunnis. Muslims. What made anyone think that Americans had the power to heal ancient wounds that we can't possibly understand? Is a Civil War preferable to a vicious leader? Many civil wars conclude with the crowning of a vicious leader.
How are we ever going to get out of Iraq? When Iraqi forces can police themselves? Where have we heard THAT before? Answer for the twinkling eye crowd: Vietnam. Over the last two weeks, the hard lesson learned in this country was that we have a hard time policing ourselves. Another lesson taught by that bitch, Katrina, is that the United States is (or at least includes) the third world. Our country harbors those who are too poor and destitute to get out of harms way, and our government is either too inept or uncaring to do much for them.
But we care about those poor souls in Iraq. We do.
I remember where I was on 9/11. I can tell you what I had for breakfast. The street I was driving on when I heard the news on the radio. Where I stood in my kitchen for days, watching non stop news coverage. There will always be a part of me that remains in shock. Hi-jacking a plane, that, I knew was possible. Perhaps inevitable. Plowing planes into buildings? I still can't wrap my brain around the sadistic logic. Yet, the very best of American bravery and kindness was abundant on September 11th and the days and months that followed. We should be proud of the wounds we suffered and survived. We should allow them to heal. We could start by taking better care of our own citizens on a daily basis.
9/11 should leave a scar, not a chip, on America's shoulder.
New generation. New scar. There has been some healing, but the scar from 9/11 is tender, easily inflamed and ugly. Wars have been declared. Countries have been invaded. Laws re-written. 9/11 casualties continue to swell. 1,900 American military dead. Countless Iraqis dead.
At what point can our government declare the War on Terrorism won? What are the chances we will ever be able to find and stop every single enemy before they attempt to harm us? How many little Iraqi boys are growing up hating America? How many Iraqi men grew up on a steady diet of U.S. hate following the first Gulf War?
That's one of the lessons learned from 9/11, isn't it? By saving Kuwait, we created an entirely new and unexpected enemy.
There is a difference between supporting the troops and supporting the cause. I haven't heard of any soldiers returning home only to be spit on by a fellow citizen. Lesson learned from Vietnam. I have profound respect and gratitude for those who sign up to protect, fight, and put themselves in harms way for this nation. I am also keenly aware those who are sent to fight our wars have no say in creating them.
Operation Iraqi Freedom doesn't seem to be freeing anyone. We may have successfully removed a cruel dictator from power, but we haven't done anything about the environment that created his power. We can't. Kurds. Sunnis. Muslims. What made anyone think that Americans had the power to heal ancient wounds that we can't possibly understand? Is a Civil War preferable to a vicious leader? Many civil wars conclude with the crowning of a vicious leader.
How are we ever going to get out of Iraq? When Iraqi forces can police themselves? Where have we heard THAT before? Answer for the twinkling eye crowd: Vietnam. Over the last two weeks, the hard lesson learned in this country was that we have a hard time policing ourselves. Another lesson taught by that bitch, Katrina, is that the United States is (or at least includes) the third world. Our country harbors those who are too poor and destitute to get out of harms way, and our government is either too inept or uncaring to do much for them.
But we care about those poor souls in Iraq. We do.
I remember where I was on 9/11. I can tell you what I had for breakfast. The street I was driving on when I heard the news on the radio. Where I stood in my kitchen for days, watching non stop news coverage. There will always be a part of me that remains in shock. Hi-jacking a plane, that, I knew was possible. Perhaps inevitable. Plowing planes into buildings? I still can't wrap my brain around the sadistic logic. Yet, the very best of American bravery and kindness was abundant on September 11th and the days and months that followed. We should be proud of the wounds we suffered and survived. We should allow them to heal. We could start by taking better care of our own citizens on a daily basis.
9/11 should leave a scar, not a chip, on America's shoulder.
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