The view from our home office includes the bottle depot, a rundown old apartment building, the abandoned Golden Harvest Movie Theatre aka Wings Bar, and at the end of the cul de sac is the salvage op.
This is when you look past the skinny empty lot which is already home to a couple of guys this season (one of whom is Len - and judging from the shape of Len's nose, I'd say he's not the winner of most of his bar fights).
Today Richard stopped by to drop off the beautiful boxes which had housed the Dom Perignon and Veuve Clicquot he and Tracy had used to celebrate special occasions. We're probably the only house on the street that starts with the empties!
Richard looked up the street, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"It's the salvage yard," I said. "Overflowing. Been like that for a few months."
"That's not right," he said. "You should be able to call the city and have that cleaned up."
I love Richard. He's smart, cute as a button, and has lovely manners. He can also be, by his own admission, naive.
I didn't tell him about Wayne stealing our aluminum ladder - about how you can't leave anything metal in your yard or it's likely to be taken to the scrapyard for a few pennies. It's convenient to have the scrapyard there - a trip to the yard can be combined with a trip to the bottle depot. Now that Wings is closed, and the Camelot Sports Bar, there are fewer local bars to spend the money, but these guys tend to buy Finesse pump hairspray at the minimart and drink it.
Not Len, so far. but he looks like he's headed in that direction. He's still enough in the world that he wants to see under the hood of our Jaguar. And he's taken it upon himself to kick out would-be squatters. Yay Len!
This whole neighbourhood is a salvage yard. And in the summer, this is what happens. The people overflow. They lie about in every empty lot, sometimes just soaking in the sun, other times too blotto to know where they are. There are fights.
One of my neighbours two blocks north told me she was hearing a party of hard drinkers in the lot next door to her house. She went out and told them she had a young boy in the house, and she didn't really like her boy having to see this. You know what happened?
This is why I love this neighbourhood.
The men politely apologized, right away, and packed up.
Just because it looks bad, and tumbles out into the streets, doesn't mean the castaway stuff - be it metal or people - has no value or understands no values.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Like Weeds
The spring weather has brought the dandelions, the chamomile, and a host of other weeds. Yes, it has also brought the violets and squills and tulips. Can anyone tell me why my daffodils come later than the tulips when almost everywhere else the daffodils come first?
I've been out in the garden, weeding, checking on the perennials. The miniature roses are back,having successfully overwintered for a second year. These are the cheap little roses you get at the grocery store as potted gifts. They've proven hardy here, and given the struggle I have with the David Austins, I'm happy to have them.
This morning there was a beer bottle in the front garden, and a flattened scuffed area. The little wire dog figure my other half put out to define the corner of the garden was lying flat. Someone had stumbled into the garden and dropped their bottle in the process. I didn't pick up the bottle - we have a regular procession of shopping carts headed to the recycling depot across the street. I knew it would be gone in a matter of minutes. So I straightened up the wire dog. None of the plants seems to have been seriously hurt.
Along with the weeds, we get an increase in outdoor neighbours. I hesitate to call them homeless; they have homes, but they don't involve houses or apartments.
We were looking at a house a couple of blocks away - a really nice reno - and in the empty lot beside it there were four people leaning up against the wall of the adjacent apartment building. They were slumped there in their dark clothes, enjoying the spring sunshine. They called out to anyone who went by - not because they wanted anything in particular, but because they were feeling good. Spring has arrived and there's enough money for beer and someone had dragged a small mattress to the lot, so they didn't have to sit on the hard ground. One of the men had slumped down far enough that his head was the only part of him propped up by the wall. The position was the sort of thing you'd have to be drunk to tolerate.
And all four of them were drunk. Their faces were bloated by drink and too much sun (and perhaps the swelling from the most recent fight).
It's going to be a hard sell, this house, with that as the view.
On the way home from the Vietnamese restaurant I saw another man passed out against the north wall of the tiny carwash that serves the city vehicles. He was slumped down the same way as the man in the lot - so only his head was held up by the concrete, and at an angle that had me thinking how much I would need my chiropractor if I ever took up drinking in a serious way.
While I am watching this, and hearing the occasional groaning of our pipes as the homeless come for the water, a friend of mine is sending me e-mails urging me to protest against a proposed gravel pit in the west end of the city. The e-mails are full of exclamation marks!!!!! and dire warnings of what evils will befall the entire city if the gravel pit is permitted.
And of course the campaign invokes THE CHILDREN. We must think of the children.
Yes, I believe children have the right to be loved and secure. But I resent having children used as a sentimental button for every issue that comes up. In this case, the threat to the children is unclear. It seems there will be an increase of truck traffic on the main road in the area, and this poses a threat to the children. I'm not sure why. If children play on this already-busy access road, then the parents haven't been doing a very good job.
The residents are up in arms about the danger to the environment - conveniently forgetting that their own housing developments were plunked down relatively recently in the same sensitive area. They warn about the pollution of the river - although they can't say WHAT would cause the pollution in the process.
I sent a message back to my friend. I pointed out that the NIMBY attitude (Not In My Back Yard) displayed by the local residents is the same thing that has meant the highest concentration of halfway houses, harm reduction facilities, facilities for the homeless etc are put in MY neighbourhood because the good citizens everywhere else block the zoning. And no thought was spared for the children in MY neighbourhood. The burbs are busy saying "We don't want this sort of thing in OUR enclave." So it's not about the children - it's hardly ever about children - but about property values.
But the children in my neighbourhood are a lot like the adults in my neighbourhood: poor. So they have no clout. And they are surrounded by excellent object lessons every time they walk down the street: drink too much, and it'll be YOU lying in the vacant lot with your head bashed and bloated.
It would be nice if the residents who are worried about the gravel pit would stop and think more globally. Maybe the gravel pit is the way they can contribute to the good of all. And if it means teaching their children to play safely and have a healthy fear of moving vehicles, then that's a bonus. They should be teaching their kids those lessons anyway.
I've been out in the garden, weeding, checking on the perennials. The miniature roses are back,having successfully overwintered for a second year. These are the cheap little roses you get at the grocery store as potted gifts. They've proven hardy here, and given the struggle I have with the David Austins, I'm happy to have them.
This morning there was a beer bottle in the front garden, and a flattened scuffed area. The little wire dog figure my other half put out to define the corner of the garden was lying flat. Someone had stumbled into the garden and dropped their bottle in the process. I didn't pick up the bottle - we have a regular procession of shopping carts headed to the recycling depot across the street. I knew it would be gone in a matter of minutes. So I straightened up the wire dog. None of the plants seems to have been seriously hurt.
Along with the weeds, we get an increase in outdoor neighbours. I hesitate to call them homeless; they have homes, but they don't involve houses or apartments.
We were looking at a house a couple of blocks away - a really nice reno - and in the empty lot beside it there were four people leaning up against the wall of the adjacent apartment building. They were slumped there in their dark clothes, enjoying the spring sunshine. They called out to anyone who went by - not because they wanted anything in particular, but because they were feeling good. Spring has arrived and there's enough money for beer and someone had dragged a small mattress to the lot, so they didn't have to sit on the hard ground. One of the men had slumped down far enough that his head was the only part of him propped up by the wall. The position was the sort of thing you'd have to be drunk to tolerate.
And all four of them were drunk. Their faces were bloated by drink and too much sun (and perhaps the swelling from the most recent fight).
It's going to be a hard sell, this house, with that as the view.
On the way home from the Vietnamese restaurant I saw another man passed out against the north wall of the tiny carwash that serves the city vehicles. He was slumped down the same way as the man in the lot - so only his head was held up by the concrete, and at an angle that had me thinking how much I would need my chiropractor if I ever took up drinking in a serious way.
While I am watching this, and hearing the occasional groaning of our pipes as the homeless come for the water, a friend of mine is sending me e-mails urging me to protest against a proposed gravel pit in the west end of the city. The e-mails are full of exclamation marks!!!!! and dire warnings of what evils will befall the entire city if the gravel pit is permitted.
And of course the campaign invokes THE CHILDREN. We must think of the children.
Yes, I believe children have the right to be loved and secure. But I resent having children used as a sentimental button for every issue that comes up. In this case, the threat to the children is unclear. It seems there will be an increase of truck traffic on the main road in the area, and this poses a threat to the children. I'm not sure why. If children play on this already-busy access road, then the parents haven't been doing a very good job.
The residents are up in arms about the danger to the environment - conveniently forgetting that their own housing developments were plunked down relatively recently in the same sensitive area. They warn about the pollution of the river - although they can't say WHAT would cause the pollution in the process.
I sent a message back to my friend. I pointed out that the NIMBY attitude (Not In My Back Yard) displayed by the local residents is the same thing that has meant the highest concentration of halfway houses, harm reduction facilities, facilities for the homeless etc are put in MY neighbourhood because the good citizens everywhere else block the zoning. And no thought was spared for the children in MY neighbourhood. The burbs are busy saying "We don't want this sort of thing in OUR enclave." So it's not about the children - it's hardly ever about children - but about property values.
But the children in my neighbourhood are a lot like the adults in my neighbourhood: poor. So they have no clout. And they are surrounded by excellent object lessons every time they walk down the street: drink too much, and it'll be YOU lying in the vacant lot with your head bashed and bloated.
It would be nice if the residents who are worried about the gravel pit would stop and think more globally. Maybe the gravel pit is the way they can contribute to the good of all. And if it means teaching their children to play safely and have a healthy fear of moving vehicles, then that's a bonus. They should be teaching their kids those lessons anyway.
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