Tuesday, February 18, 2014

MEMORIES OF MISS MAE

When I heard the sad news, I thought back to the early 2000's. I recalled how weary I had been from wandering, in heels, around that convention center like one of the children of Israel. The rep assigned to me was...well...lost. Although she kept apologizing profusely, as I followed her in and out of doors, down hallways, up and down stairs, elevators, and escalators, I felt as if I was in an episode of "The Blind Leading the Blind"....(I think that's the day I began my habit of finding out, before leaving home, as much information as I could about the who, what, when, where, and why of upcoming performances.) When we got to the supposed "right place", minutes before I was scheduled to sing, it was obvious that there had been miscommunication again. We'd wandered into an announcer's meeting that was wrapping up. I wasn't going to get to the mystery room on time. Somebody would be singing that day, but it wouldn't be me. I thought that if we ever did find out where I was supposed to be, I'd be too pooped to sing, anyway. I decided to sit down on a bench outside of the conference room. The apologetic rep walked off to find a place where she could get better reception on her phone. The person on the other end of the line didn't sound too happy. I actually wondered if I had been scheduled to sing at all. 
That's when Miss Mae happened to be passing by. "What are you doing out here, baby? Are you alright? Are you singing today?" "I'm not sure Miss Mae.", I told her. "No one knows where I'm supposed to be." It's funny now, but she pursed those lips, and her countenance morphed from cheerful and concerned, to "Who do I have to cut?".
I was from DC. Everyone from DC, I soon learned, was "one of hers" or "her children". She looked out for everyone, but DC folk--especially anyone associated with her fav, Richard Smallwood--held a special place in her heart. She switched from security mode to management mode. "Well, who's with you? Why DON'T they know? They're supposed to know! This is unacceptable." I could almost see her mind working.  "Look, I'm on duty, but you wait right there. Don't you move. I'll be right back." 

Like Claire Huxtable, she was still muttering about the senselessness of my situation as she walked away.
When she came back, she said, "Follow me, baby". She was walking like a soldier on a mission. I guess I wasn't keeping up, so she grabbed my hand. She led me into a full auditorium where a concert was about to take place, walked straight to the front left of the stage, whispered into a gentleman's ear, pointed at me, came back and said, "Just sit here, baby. It might be a few minutes, but just listen for your name. Then she hugged me. I think she knew that all I really wanted to do was leave..."Now, I gotta get back on my post, but if you need anything else, you find ME, you hear?"

The music I heard really cheered me up. I'd actually forgotten all about my sore feet and singing. After a delegation from Japan left the stage, I heard my name, and it startled me. 
In a matter of minutes, she had picked up and scored with the ball that others had dropped. She was known for getting things done.
Rest in peace, Miss Mae, and I'll remember: "You can't be passive all the time, baby". 
Much love to the Atterberry family, especially my "Vision" brother Dayle--a dutiful, loving son if there ever was one...: )

Friday, February 14, 2014

HERE'S TO LOVE

Happy Valentine's Day! I'm hoping that the freezing, schizophrenic, snowy weather we've experienced, solidly put the brakes on all shady plans, and gave folks one less thing about which to feel remorse--or consult a physician.
I'm hoping that married folk are not secretly hoping to be single, and single folk are not wishing the day would hurry up and end, before they're moved to punch in the throat the next person who sympathetically says "Be patient. Your day is coming".
I'm hoping that the gifts you received, or gave today were motivated by love, and not overwhelming guilt. I'm hoping that your bliss is not fabricated to impress or taunt others, or to further deceive yourself. (Watch out for that inclination to boast, unless you're sure of what you've got in a spouse or significant other. You just might push someone into telling you something you don't really want to know.) 
Finally, here's hoping that your relationship is mutually fulfilling, genuine, solid, and consistent-- in front of, and behind closed doors.
Now go on and celebrate you crazy kids. 
Love wins... )

Thursday, February 13, 2014

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: JOB 37:6













Snow is a great equalizer...even an agent of improvement. 

Last week, I wished that I could convince Dennison's Nursery/Landscapers, or some local company to adopt our condominium community. 
Landscaping students need somewhere to practice, don't they? 
There's been so much damage done, as people have repeatedly used the lawn as a shortcut, and trampled the grass so often, that only unsightly dirt patches remain in some places. 
Now, when it rains, the dirt runs down to the entrance of the gate and collects there, causing every foot to track mud up the walkway and into the building. 

As a 4ft. mound of over 100 bags of stinking garbage, broken household items and furniture, left there on Monday, was finally hauled away last Wednesday, even more damage to the lawn was evident.

Thank God it's cold. I never thought I would hear my springtime-adoring self singing the praises of Winter.
 
I was searching the internet for the best grass seed for high traffic areas. I was considering buying a rake, a shovel, bulbs, and some red bricks, and channeling my late mother's gardening skills.
Yep. I was gonna take matters into my own hands. 
I like looking out of the window. I believe beauty can be there. Beauty isn't just reserved for other neighborhoods. It can be found in Bellevue, too. 

The workers at The Colonnade Apartments have the right idea. Every day, they're picking up trash. 
Like clockwork, they're tending the lawn. 
Early this morning, a worker used a snow blower to clear the sidewalks and walkways. 
I wanted to pay him to cross the street, as we waited for contractors to arrive to clear our walkways, but patience paid off--and they're doing a fine job.

Last night, it snowed. 
It was an answer to an unspoken prayer. 
The lawn is beautiful today. 
Everyone's lawn is beautiful, today. 
Maybe something miraculous is happening underneath the snow. 
Maybe by the time it melts, there will be some recovery. Maybe people will care. 
Environment matters--inside and out.

"He says to the snow, 'Fall on the earth,' and to the rain shower, 'Be a mighty downpour."
 ~Job 37:6. 

I'd like to think he did it just for me.










The quiet was disturbed a little after 2 PM. 
I guess some neighborhood kids were suffering from a bout of cabin fever, and decided that underneath my window was the best place to yell, scream, and build a pitiful snowman. 
Oh well. 
The pristine snow was nice while it lasted. 
The beautiful white blanket I'd admired all day was trounced. 
It had covered all of last week's ugliness, and in a matter of minutes our lawn was an eyesore again. How does one mess up snow
I temporarily turned into a crabby old woman; even considered how unreasonable I was being, but still hoped for more snow to cover the lawn again. 










I heard the weather reports. 
I've imagined that the real reason it's snowing again tonight is because, like any determined community leader committed to fighting blight; like a business owner painting over graffiti on a wall, the Lord is gonna continue commanding the snow to fall until the air we breathe is clean and fresh. 
It's going to fall until certain unsupervised little darlings (who apparently didn't have enough snow in front of their own houses), and uncaring adults understand they don't have to destroy beauty when they see it. 
Things CAN be clean, picturesque, and tidy in the 'hood--especially snow...lol

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

"VISION" REHEARSAL DIARIES

The littlest sentry--Mozart "Barney Fife" Smallwood. "Why are you sitting next to Angie, Vanessa? Oh. I forgot You're a soprano, now. Carry on...and watch your pitch." 
When, by virtue of his bionic hearing, he is not announcing that someone is at the door, he's walking around as if to make sure we're singing our parts correctly. Then, he goes back to his post at Richard's feet, under the piano, and surveys the room. He will often come out, especially if we're drilling the same part or notes, take center stage, open his tiny mouth as widely as he can, and "sing", too. He tends to suffer from separation anxiety, though. He hasn't quite differentiated when we're just standing up to sing, from when we're standing up to pray and leave when rehearsal is over. Poor little thing just freaks out: "No! Where are you all going? Sit down, all of you! Sing! Play something, Richard! Don't let them escape!" 

I love listening to my "Vision" rehearsal memos--the music and the conversation..."Classical, classical, classical..."
"Oh. My bad. I had jazz hands..."
"No. You didn't do it right..."
"Mozart, please, Sir, come here sit down, chill..." 
"Almost 20 years...for real?"  
Richard: People always ask, "So. Do you have different people?" I say no. I mean, you know, we lost two...
Sharon: And we graduate to the HEAVENLY choir when we leave up outta here!...We go from HERE to GLORY! lolol 
Richard: Especially people in the industry. They were like, well, how are the same people still with you? I say because they're dedicated... 
Sharon: 'Cause RICHARD is the same. He doesn't get crazy and new and mental like some other celebrities...We don't get cussed out, we don't get stuff thrown at us, we don't have to sleep on the floor, six to a motel...lolololol
Maurette: So, like seriously. Poppa is a big deal...I hope we never take for granted just how humongous this man here is..." 
~"Vision" Rehearsal Diaries

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

PEACEFUL DAY


“And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:” 
Luke 10:39-41

There have been times when, in the midst of a task I wondered:
1. Why do I have to do this again?
2. Where are the countless others who can do the same thing?
3. Why aren’t others chastened for their lack of service, availability, and commitment?
4. Am I being used or misused? What have I gotten myself into?
5. What is signified by my willingness to serve?
6. Why can’t others see the need to help?
7. What would happen if I say "No", or stop altogether?

Those questions racing around in your head point to truth. Either your motives for doing a thing aren’t pure, you’re experiencing self imposed burn-out, it’s time to ask for the help you need, or you’re just a little full of yourself and need to take a nap. When you fool around and prove yourself competent at a thing, it can be a mixed blessing. Being assigned a task, and having the natural ability to accomplish it is one thing.  Taking on a task and having the will and wherewithal to complete it is another. Assuming a job, and finding out that it may require more helping hands than your own might be challenging, but it doesn’t have to be a source of intimidation. It certainly shouldn’t reduce you to becoming a tantrum-throwing tattle tale. 
In the passage of scripture, we aren’t told that Martha’s duties were frivolous. Whatever she was doing was probably valid. Nor are we told that Mary was prone to fits of laziness. What we do see, is someone whose attitude toward her work was in need of a little adjustment. It was her attitude that caused Jesus to essentially tell her to get a grip.
Often, we make the mistake of perceiving that our particular task or expertise is more important, preferred, needed, or pressing. What is this need to turn everything into a competition? Could it be approval that we truly seek? As we serve, are we secretly looking for validation, or even a simple thank you? Are we ever evaluating why we serve, and who we represent?Is it a good idea to do so?

 The levels of commitment of individuals are evaluated often. It doesn’t require some lengthy questionnaire. Just think about the number of times you hear, “I can’t do it”, “I’m sorry, I have another engagement”, “I have a standing appointment on that day”, “I have to work”, or any of a host of excuses--valid or otherwise. It’s not difficult to see who makes up the core workers in front of, and behind the scenes. They’re the people you see all of the time, and if they’re missing, you really do miss them. Does this imply that there’s no one else capable of doing their jobs? Of course not! We have a tendency to stick with what has been proven. We gravitate toward the things and people we trust. We’re choosy, for example, about whose cakes or pies we’ll eat. We go to restaurants and look for our favorite waiters and waitresses. We’re loyal to a particular dry cleaner, plumber, doctor, mechanic, or beautician. Based on past experience, we gravitate to what, or who works best for us, and we’re not often eager to change.
I’ve heard people make the statement that a small percentage of people are always doing the lions’ share of the work in any organization. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the case because some people don’t really want help, and perhaps, without even knowing it, they chase good help away. A new person on a task is one thing. A competent new person can be looked upon as threatening. Shouldn’t we, however, be always about the work of mentoring and grooming others to continue the work? Just as there is enough work to go around, there’s certainly enough praise! 
We simply must be sure that our service is not questionable. Someone said that "the road to hell is paved with good intentions", but good intentions are not necessarily bad. If the intents of our hearts are understood by those with whom we work, everyone will be motivated to work in concert. When our intentions are understood, there is no room for skepticism, doubt or impure motives. When we work on one accord, and with one mind, we can create a powerful atmosphere! 
Imagine if Judas had helped Mary to anoint Jesus instead of berating her action and calling it a waste. Imagine if he could have been able to see the purity of her actions, and understand her intentions! Mary sought an opportunity to serve and found it. Judas acted as if he was being somehow inconvenienced by the service that Jesus was given. Mary was not pampering him, or manipulating him for her own personal gain. Mary valued the Lord. He needed to be served in that way. In her eyes, nothing she could have done for him would have been a waste. What she did was necessary and proper. Judas could not see the significance of her actions because he had reduced Jesus to an earthly king who was dispensable. To him, Jesus was a commodity by which he could personally achieve financial gain. He never realized that Mary was serving a man who is the greatest example of a true servant.
When we serve, attitude is everything.

REVELATION 2:3-5


GOD: “But you walked away from your first love—WHY?"
CHILD: "Well Lord, you know. HE did this, and SHE said that, and THEY tried the other, and THAT didn't happen, and the other DID happen...yada yada...and that LAST thing? Whew! Now Lord, even YOU know THAT wasn't right...knocked the wind right out of me!" 
GOD: "What’s going on with you, anyway?"
CHILD: "I tried, honest I did, but I'm really, really, REALLY tired. I just want to sit here for a while." 
GOD: "Do you have ANY idea how far you’ve fallen?"
CHILD: "My head hurts a little. My heart, too. I can't say that I know WHERE I am. I was trying to carry too much stuff. I'm a little banged up, so I must have hit SOMETHING, or tripped over something, but no--not really. I don't know."
GOD: "A Lucifer fall!"
CHILD: "LUCIFER? Whoa!!! Come on. THAT far? That's cold, Jesus."
GOD: “Turn back!" 
CHILD: "Okay. I'm a little disoriented, so could you point me in the right direction, please?"
GOD:  "Recover your dear, early love."
CHILD:  "Awww...I vaguely remember it-- before the giants showed up. You mean it still WANTS me? Like THIS? All used and broken? Do I have to dress up or something?"
GOD: "No time to waste, for I’m well on my way to removing your light from the golden circle."
CHILD: "Oh snap! Don't do THAT. Wait! You mean it's still there? There's some oil left? Oh. My bad...wasting time. THAT way? Okay. Thanks. You don't have to tell me twice, Jesus." 
 

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD



















Years ago, Bellevue in far SW, DC was the focus of a beautification project. The new library on Atlantic Street makes me wonder if it is, once again.

What's been playing out on one street, however, speaks to one of the reasons people abandon neighborhoods and flee to the suburbs---only, perhaps, to find that there are people living there who don't care, either.

What's wrong with wanting the inside AND outside of your home to be pleasant, clean, and attractive?
 

Have you ever seen the side of a sidewalk? 
Residents on the South side of Galveston Street have been looking at it, and the underside for years. They've also been looking at residents of the Wingate garden apartments and hi-rise enter the broken gate, use the lawn as a short-cut, trample the grass, and scale the fence that borders the property. 
Now, when it rains, the dirt turns to mud, rolls down to the gate entrance collects there, and ends up on the bottoms of every pedestrian's shoes.

Sadly, the residents of Friendship Square have been watching their condo services slowly disappear, one after another. 
Until a few weeks ago, they were getting nowhere in resolving a hoarding situation (cats included) that was exposed in 2006. 
Representatives from the police and fire departments, social services, The Humane Society, Washington Gas, Office of Aging, and condominium cleaning services have all been aware of the situation since then. It's been reported, inquired about, and nothing has been done. Residents have been taking turns disinfecting and deodorizing the stairwell.
 
Each summer, the stench has been horrific requiring residents to run their A/Cs around the clock. 
In winter, the stairwell windows must remain open. In a perfect world, the residents should now have stock in Clorox, Lysol, Pine-sol, Glade, and Arm and Hammer. 

When you reside in a place, any place, you shouldn't have a problem cleaning, but it gets a bit ridiculous when you find yourself constantly cleaning up behind able-bodied adults. 
I will never understand why people who can't, or won't adequately care for their pets, think that others should endure the odor and cheerfully understand. You're a liar if you say you're an animal lover and allow your pet to live in squalor.

On Monday, the noise of the contents of heavy bags being dragged down three flights of stairs, reminded me of the decision someone made, years ago, to tar the roof of the now closed Patricia Roberts Harris Educational Center while school was in session
Did it not occur to anyone that the situation was hazardous? Did no one consider what the workers would be handling, or what they were walking into? Did anyone think to notify neighbors, and give them a chance to spray, bomb, suit up, don masks or leave the premises altogether?

I know I heard a garbage truck around midnight last night. I was so relieved. I doubt if I've ever considered the sound of a garbage truck to be particularly musical, but that one was. 
Finally, the garbage hauled out of the unit on the third floor, and the stench that came along with it, would be gone. 
I opened the blinds this morning and looked outside. I saw that the sanitation contractors only took what was in the dumpsters. They were obviously not prepared for the load on the lawn, so it remained all night and was saturated by the rain.

I wanted to cry when I opened the blinds and saw that mountain of bags still sitting there like a foul welcome wagon. 
I got dressed, grabbed my phone, and went outside. 
I was trying so hard not to be angry. 
I was trying to have faith in systems and processes and chains of command, but hearing, 
"I don't know." or 
"There's nothing we can do.", or 
"There's no money", or 
"It's not that bad", or 
"Sorry about that", or 
"We don't handle that. Call so and so....", gets old after a while. 

I'm a little weary of people with titles, positions, and websites that say they are supposed to provide certain services, but they prove to be woefully incompetent and ineffective.
WHY did it take 8 years?

Today, I wished for eminent domain. 
I wished for a minute that the District of Columbia government would just seize the property. 
I wished that some wealthy developer would come and make an offer.

There are four senior citizens, and two children under the age of 7 in the building. 
No one should have to put up with another person's filth. 
One ought to take pride in one's community, whether it is gated or not.

Since 2006, the conditions at Friendship Square have fluctuated. 
There have been times of daylight interspersed. 
They should be the rule, not the exception. 
No amount of remodeling or fresh paint can affect people's hearts and habits, if being nasty is what they prefer. 
It's hard to convince some people that when you live in an apartment or condo community, everything you do is going to affect someone else. 
How hard you walk across the floor, how loudly you play your music or adjust your television volume, how you dispose of trash, how you park your car, how you care for your pet, how and what you cook, how much you use utilities...EVERYTHING affects someone else, and so, consideration, respect for others, and cleanliness have to be among the traits of an apartment or condo resident.
Between people using and selling drugs, smoking in the hallway, breaking into the laundry room, destroying washers and driers, breaking the doors and gate, allowing children and pets to destroy property, robbing neighbors, it gets discouraging.
Moving out CAN'T be the only option. It just can't. 
It CAN be better. 
Something CAN be done. 
It doesn't have to be this way. 
Clean, safe, and neat are not unreasonable expectations.

I don't want to start repeating or believing what "THEY" say. 
Black communities CAN have nice things. 
Black people DO care. 
Black people don't tear up EVERYTHING. 
Black people DO care about neighbors. 
Black people DO clean. 
Black people DON'T just let neighborhoods go to pot, and then complain when other ethnic groups move in and beautify them. 
Black people DO like grass on the lawn, and next to the sidewalk.

My grandmother used to say, "You can live in a hole, but it can be clean, Baby." 
Sometimes we lament not having the money to do things, when the issue simply requires soap and water; a mop or broom; a little elbow grease, and a caring attitude. 
What happened to the lessons every mother taught? If you break it, fix it. 
If you dirty it, clean it. 
If you can't do it, step aside and allow someone who can to get it done.

Yesterday, when it was clear that no one was coming to do it (again), I went into the stairwell and started sweeping. A neighbor said sarcastically, "Somebody is getting paid to do that". 
I wanted to ask her when the imaginary cleaning fairy was going to show up, but I just kept sweeping, and soon realized I was doing my mask-wearing self more harm than good. 
What was I breathing in? 
What had we ALL been breathing in? 
When I made it to the ground level, another neighbor looked at me and said, "Sweetheart, your eyes are watering."
I admit, I thought it. Yep. I played the race card. Would the clean up have been better handled if we were a  condominium community of a different persuasion? 

On Monday morning, 4 or 5 Latino people wearing street clothes, emerged from a standard, unmarked vehicle. Not one of them was prepared. 
They should have turned and run screaming back to their car. 
No masks. 
No hats. 
Only a couple had gloves, and they looked like the kind that come with a box of hair dye. 
They dragged, threw, and burst bags in the stairwell from around 8 AM until 3:15 PM on Monday. 
The mud, trash and debris they left behind made me almost wish they had never come. 
They just left all of the bags on the lawn when they finished, then dusted themselves off, entered their car, and drove away. 
No one bothered to say what would happen next. 
The stairwell smelled like a toilet, and roaches were congregating in the ceiling fleeing from a neighbor's frantic spraying. 
It's February, and the stairwell windows were wide open. Then it started to rain. 

I know now why people snap.

If we were a different community, would our condo community have been descended upon by professionally trained OSHA workers wearing regulation haz-mat gear? 
Would they have been carrying industrial equipment from a truck that had a professional, reputable company's name emblazoned on the side? 
Would someone have set up a chute from the hoarder's window, and sent the filth careening down to the bed of a big truck, so that it wouldn't so horribly impact the neighbors and commons areas? When they left, would the garbage have left with them? 
Would someone have whipped out a vacuum cleaner that had a state-of-the-art hepa filter, cleared the debris from the floors and stairs, and left it lemony fresh?
Would they have noted the smell of mold and mildew, demanded to enter the offending unit, and proceeded to clean it out, too?

In my wonderful, wishful dreams, Junk Guys came in the night and took the bags of garbage and broken furniture away...then Service Master came to clean and remove the stench from the stairwell...then Stairs and Rails came to remodel the staircase...then Empire came and replaced the carpet...then Kehoe Landscaping contractors came and beautified the lawn...then Four Brothers, LLC came and remodeled the laundry room and storage spaces...and then everyone vowed to paid their condo fees in full and on time...then the condo association learned, by heart, the names and numbers of every absentee owner--and phoned them to remind them to come and handle their investment...then the association made sure that empty units were thoroughly cleaned and not sources of mold and mildew, vermin and insects...then residents cleaned up behind themselves when they spilled stuff, and they didn't smoke (anything) in the hallway, or sell, buy, or use drugs, or block the doors or stairs, or break the front door when they couldn't get in, or break the gate when they couldn't get in, or break the front door glass when they couldn't get in, or holler in the halls, or talk so loud outside so that you can hear entire conversations without even trying, or let their dogs poop all over the lawn. 
Maybe people would change their cat's kitty litter before it began to reek, and put the used litter in secure bags. 
Maybe they'd decide that pets, at least in this space, aren't a good idea at all.
I can dream.









Thankfully, I didn't dream that Calhoun Trash Service showed up sometime before 11AM. 
The 4 men looked even more bewildered than the Latino workers, but at least they were dressed for the job, and the outside air absorbed the stench. 
They hauled the bags from the lawn to the curb and onto a truck. 
It seemed like the more they picked up, the bigger the pile grew. 
At times, they just stopped, shook their heads, stood there and stared. 
When the truck was filled to capacity, it was driven away while two workers were left behind to continue taking the bags to the street. 
It took two trips for them to clear all of the bags. 
I suppose the wind and the birds will take care of the scraps. 

I can't help but wonder, "Now what?" 
Will the ball that finally started rolling, suddenly stop? 
Will we be able to open our doors and not be hit with hazardous smells? 
Will the effort to replace damaged flooring, in the units affected when the pipes burst 2 weeks ago, be in vain because the offending unit has yet to be cleaned out and inspected? 
I am grateful that a custodian from Friendship Commons did come with a mop, broom, and a spray bottle and try to tackle the stairwell. It was better, but that stairwell needs industrial-strength help.

I hope the city will do more to make sure condominium communities can thrive, but no government can't change people's individual values and habits. 

I hope Section 8 abusers, who take the money and run to the suburbs will be identified, and made to take care of their property in the District, or be forced to forfeit it. 
I hope that disabled seniors know about, and take advantage of the services available to them, but you can't get help if you don't want it, or are too proud or ashamed to ask for it. 
I hope that those tasked to serve seniors will really serve.

I hope that anyone associated with Calhoun Trash Service will be rewarded for the tremendous service they provided-- and never get blindsided like that again.