Just Another Saturday Afternoon

In 1864, Sherman's Federal troops fought Confederate troops led by General Johnston right here in Morningside.  Being spatially challenged, I have a lot of trouble following the description that the neighborhood association posted years ago, but our neighbor Scott took this photo of a map at the Atlanta History Center, showing the Confederate and Federal entrenchments.  When Iain was working on the Boy Scout Eagle projects on Morningside Presbyterian's grounds, he said that they thought there was a Civil War-era entrenchment line there.

Yesterday afternoon most of my neighbors were watching the UGA-LSU football game, but someone posted a question on the neighborhood Facebook page, asking what was going on at the end of the street.  Our street is not very long so it seemed to me it would be pretty straightforward to figure that out.  But at the Cumberland Road end of the street, a police car was blocking access and I thought I could see more blue lights up toward North Highland.  This was distinctly unusual.

It turned out that a neighbor up the street had unearthed something unusual while planting a rose bush earlier that afternoon.  The police officer who had responded to the 911 call was by then making sure that no one went past Morningside Presbyterian toward North Highland.  He told us it was a World War II- or Vietnam War-era mortar, and the Atlanta Police Department's SWAT Team and bomb squad were there now.

We saw the man in the protective suit -- the kind of suit you'd want to be wearing, if you had to move something explosive -- carrying a box and a pole back behind the house, and later he came out.  The police officer said the device was probably in the box.  Later we saw the man in the suit without the box -- you can just barely make him out in the distance, between the two vehicles with blue lights -- and the police officer said okay, that was it, the street would be open soon.

All of which begs the question of how a World War II- or Vietnam War-era mortar came to be buried in the backyard of one of our neighbors.  Tom asked me this morning if they had checked with a metal detector to see if there were any more.  I told him I didn't know.  But it does raise a substantial question about the wisdom of going in with a backhoe knocking down houses on the street.  Just a thought.

Art Works

I started to write "Everyone wants the place they live to be better" but that might not be true.  There probably are people who think the place they live is perfect and cannot possibly be improved.  I am pretty fond of my neighborhood but I still invest a lot of my mental bandwidth in thinking about how it and the city I now live in could be better.

So last weekend I went to two meetings about making the city better.  On Saturday, I attended part of the 5th Annual Neighborhood Summit downtown at the Loudermilk Center for the Regional Community.  This was organized by The Community Foundation for Greater Atlanta.  I was not able to be there for the entire program but did attend a workshop on "Creative Spaces:  Arts in Community."  Monica Campana from Living Walls was scheduled to present in that workshop but wasn't able to attend.  That was too bad because there was a lot of interest in Living Walls among the attendees, and in her absence the moderator, Eddie Granderson from the City's Public Art Program, ended up trying to answer them as best he could (more about that later).  The speakers who did make it were Ruth Bracewell from the Madison-Morgan Cultural Center and David Burt from the Hapeville Arts Alliance.

Ms. Bracewell described an amazing array of programming and other activities that the Madison-Morgan Cultural Center provides in Madison, Georgia.  The Center has staff and a budget and although I am sure that money is always short and volunteers with a passion for the arts and for the community help fill the gaps, the Center is part of the city's cultural landscape and presumably has been for some time.

Mr. Burt, on the other hand, told us about how he and two other people started the Hapeville Arts Alliance from nothing.  It was a great story about how people who care can make the most of the resources that are available and create something really valuable for their community.  Hapeville now has the Norton Arts Center, with gallery space and studio space for artists, and the Alliance recently hosted a very successful Arts Walk.  It was really impressive what a small group of passionate volunteers have been able to do.

When the discussion opened for questions and answers, there were a couple questions for Ms. Bracewell and Mr. Burt, but at least half of the question the audience had were about Living Walls, and they asked them, even though Ms. Campana wasn't there.  The first questions were from people with concerns -- what is the process for getting approval?  How are neighborhoods involved?  Mr. Granderson answered those in a very evenhanded way, acknowledging the challenges last year and the lack of clarity in the past about what the City's requirements were, but there were still more questions.  A woman from the Pittsburgh neighborhood said that the neighborhood had been treated with disrespect by Living Walls, that there was no need to bring in artists from other countries, that her grandson was an artist.

But they were not the only people who had come to learn more about Living Walls.  There were people who were interested in having Living Walls bring art to their neighborhoods, there were people who wanted to know how to volunteer (I raised my hand to answer that question, when Mr. Granderson could not), and some skepticism that the City actually had the authority to keep private property owners from putting murals of their choosing on their buildings.  (Mr. Granderson was very careful about his choice of words in answering this question, but I do wonder if the City's requirements would stand up to a serious court challenge.)

The next day I attended part of the colab summit at Woodruff Arts Center.  The highlight of the day was Susan Booth's talk on how the arts aren't just an extra thing, an ornament, something for when company is in town, but if an integral part of the life of city can make the city and its people better.  It was one of the best talks I ever heard.  Ms. Booth made the case that we need to see the arts as something that is not a separate thing but something that is important to our city and its future.  Serious engagement with the arts builds empathy and the ability to see multiple points of view ("multiple truths," as Ms. Booth put it) and makes us better people and better citizens.

Imagine a city informed by the twin tenets of emotional empathy and comfort with multiple truths.  Imagine a town square where dialogue replaces rhetoric, where compassion displaces rush to judgment, where because we exercise the well-honed skill of holding multiple truths, we are able to sit with people whose voice, values, and lives are different than our own.  We are able to lean in and listen and talk *with* the other, not just *about* the other.

Do your civic duty and make the city a better place.  Grab a friend and go to a performance.  Art on the Beltline is in full swing, and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra season has started.  Go on an urban treasure hunt to find Living Walls' murals.  Check out what's happening at your favorite theater.  Go somewhere you've never been.  Do something.

Instant Event

We have become huge food truck fans.  When it's just Iain and I on Wednesday nights, we walk to the food trucks in Virginia Highland with a blanket and sit on the asphalt, or when Tom is with us we drive and sometimes take our folding chairs.  Tom and I have been to the soup cart at the Goat Farm once for lunch, and the food trucks are one (only one) of the highlights of Atlanta Streets Alive.  The great thing about food trucks is all you have to do is park them somewhere and you have an Event, and that's what happened last night at Morningside Presbyterian Church.

Lynsley had given us a heads up this was in the works, so we could put it on our calendars.  There was a great turnout from the church (at least that's who I assume most of the people there were) but lots of neighbors were there too.  There were three food trucks (one of which was out of action before the evening was over - I don't know if they ran out of food or had a mechanical problem) and a King of Pops vendor, some folding tables and chairs for the people who didn't want to eat standing up or sitting on the grass, and lots of people with blankets and at the picnic tables.  There were people playing cornhole and there was time to chat about kids and dogs and what teacher your child got in their new grade at Morningside Elementary while you were in line for your food, waiting for your food, eating your food, or just being sociable.  Tom and Iain and I were all there for various parts of the evening and ended up seeing lots of our neighbors including a few who we talked to on the way there and back.  Everyone that I talked to said pretty much the same thing --  "They could do this every week."

Public place + food trucks = an Event, and people come and they have a great time.  It was fun, and we didn't have to cook.  Thanks to Morningside Presbyterian for arranging this, and for inviting us!  And they *could* do it every week.

Not for Sale

The letter is addressed "Dear Neighbors" and signed "Mikel," as if the writer is my friend, my neighbor.  But he doesn't live on my street and I don't think he lives in my neighborhood and he is most definitely not my friend.  He is -- according to the billboard at Piedmont and Peachtree -- "Atlanta's Greatest Listing Agent."  He also is asking if I want to sell my house, even though it is not for sale.

Dear Neighbors,

If you desire to sell your current home or have an older home that is beyond remodeling or repair, I have buyers for both.  Through my "Dream Home Program" I am able to get my clients stronger prices often well above market value.  We are definitely paying upwards of 10-15% more than most builders and investors are offering for the older homes that are potential building lots.  If you have a home you'd like to sell for a higher price than most are telling you it's worth, call me today at 404-273-3186.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Kind regards,

Mikel

We saw our neighbor Miriam at Caramba a couple of nights ago.  I asked her if the real estate people had asked her if she wanted to sell her house.  She said they'd been by three times, including once at 8:30 in the morning.  

The apartments at Wessyngton & Highland have been sold, and Muffley & Associates signs are advertising the houses that will replace them.  Someone on the street asked me the other day what I thought was going to be built there.  I was surprised by the question as there is only one answer possible -- very large, very expensive homes are going to be built there.

We already knew that the house Angela had lived in is going to be replaced with new construction, and just this week a "For Sale" sign has appeared in the lawn of the duplex next to Lynsley's house.  This is where Mathew -- one of the original Wessyngton Road guitar players -- used to live, and where the dog belonging to one of Mona's previous tenants had ended up taking refuge a couple of years ago.  So now there is only one house in between Angela's former house and the duplex, and it's a rental property too.  So there are three houses in a row that will probably be replaced sooner or later with large, expensive houses.

Kathy said that someone had recently stopped by their house and asked if they wanted to sell.  She said they didn't, but the real estate agent said that if they did they could get a lot of money for it.  The amount quoted was large -- larger than the appraised value of many of the houses on the street.  Of course, it's not the house they want, it's the land that the house is on.  Our homes are "potential building lots."

I know that the only people on the street who are sad to see the apartments go are my family and the people who live there.  Next is going to be the other rental property on the street.  The question after that is will rising property values start driving away longtime residents.  Are all of us going to be able to afford the property taxes that are going to follow?  I know that when people think about gentrification they are not thinking about neighborhoods like ours, but I don't know what else to call it.  From Wikipedia:

Gentrification is a dynamic that emerges in poor urban areas when residential shifts, urban planning, and other phenomena affect the composition of a neighborhood to the point that the people who currently live there can no longer afford to do so

Just to be completely clear.  Our house is not for sale.  Muffley & Associates and the rest of you, please stay away.

More People, Fewer Cars

On Sunday, the Atlanta Bicycle Coalition sponsored its biggest Atlanta Streets Alive event yet, this time returning to Peachtree Street.  Last spring the event came to Peachtree Street for the first time and it was fun, but there weren't so many people.  The rain stopped just before the 2 p.m. start and that probably kept many people at home.  But on Sunday the weather was clear and not to hot and it was a nearly perfect day for walking on Peachtree Street.

The weather may have been perfect, but our schedules were not.  We got a late start on the afternoon because of Iain's schedule and we needed to end early because of mine, so on foot we had no chance to doing the entire 4-mile route from start to finish and then back.  Tom dropped us off near the start, at Pryor and Martin Luther King, and then we walked north from there.  Other than the absence of cars and a few bicyclists, there wasn't much evidence of anything special going on until we got to Woodruff Park.  There there was music and a vendor selling hot dogs and a woman from Zoo Atlanta with an unusual fashion accessory.

We also had heard that our favorite guerrilla literary team, the poets of Free Poems on Demand, were somewhere around Woodruff Park.  Given our time constraints we didn't track them down, which I regret, as getting a free poem on demand is one of the very special things about Streets Alive events.  Hopefully they will be at the next Streets Alive event on North Highland in October.

We saw where they are laying the streetcar tracks, near Ellis Street.  Moving north, there was more activity, and in many places the street was full of pedestrians and bicycles.

We saw several bicycles that if illuminated would have fit right into the Beltline's lantern parade the night before.

People with dogs or bikes, and the King of Pops at at least three locations on the route.

There were women in costume (shown) and a kid on a trapeze (not shown).

There was dancing on the sidewalk.

A competition involving dragging heavy things and moving really big tires.

We got something to eat near Peachtree Center, and a young woman asked us if we had health insurance and offered us a pamphlet on our benefits under the new health insurance law.  We wandered through the army surplus store, which was offering a discount to bicyclists with helmets. There were food trucks on the bridge over the interstate but no ice cream until we got to Colony Center and by then we'd had popsicles.  

At several points along the route we saw Atlanta police officers having to deal with cars that somehow had gotten on the street even though the street was closed.  I imagine that the drivers were confused and incredulous.  They weren't supposed to be there?  What?  

It was just four hours on a Sunday afternoon that the street was turned over to pedestrians and bicyclists.  It is amazing what 50,000 people and no cars can do for a street.

If you missed it, there's another chance coming soon.  On October 6, Atlanta Streets Alive is coming to Highland and Boulevard.  Don't miss it.

The City Transformed

Last night was the 4th Atlanta Beltline Lantern Parade.  Somehow I had never heard of this event until last year, when Iain and I went without knowing what to expect.  What I remember from last year was how disorienting it was, seeing skyscrapers lit up against the night sky in the distance but not really knowing where we were.  Last year we had picked up some paper lanterns at Target and put battery-powered LED lights inside, but we didn't know we needed to have them on poles.  This year we decorated our lanterns and had them on 4-foot poles.

My after-dark photos didn't come out very well, but I did get some before the parade started, when the crowd was gathering at Irwin and Krog.  There was the women carrying the giant green fish ("I'm just carrying it," she told the woman who asked her to pose with it for a photo.)

There were lots of people with really big, illuminated hats.  Some of them probably were from the Krewe of the Grateful Gluttons, the hosts of the parade, and others probably were people who had made one at one of the Krewe's classes.  ("They have classes?" Iain asked, incredulous.  As in, "you knew they had classes, and you didn't get me into one of them?")

There were lots of large paper lanterns, some purchased, some created.  

And there were the Krewe's giant illuminated puppets.  Last year they led the parade, but this year there were just too many people.  By the time they headed out of the parking lot at Irwin and Krog there already were hundreds of people ahead of them on the trail.

What was amazing this time was how many people there were -- not just walking, but lining the trail, or watching from porches, balconies, windows, or roofs of adjacent buildings.  There were people everywhere.  There were people flying illuminated remote control aircraft, people with dogs or kids or bikes, people with folding chairs.  There were so many people in the parade itself that I think many participants stepped to the side to watch for a while.

By the time we got to the parade's end at Virginia & Monroe, we had moved to near the front.  We followed the crowd into Piedmont Park and listened to the band for a while, then headed back toward home.  From the bridge on Virginia Avenue that goes over the trail we could see the crowd of people still walking that went on as far as we could see.

As we were approaching the end of the route, I heard a young woman talking to her companion, saying "This is why I love my neighborhood."  

Exactly.

There Goes the Neighborhood

I bought our house in 1989, soon after I moved to Atlanta.  That summer there were frequent thunderstorms after several years of drought and it seemed like every time it rained trees came down and the power went out.  The first time I saw this house the electricity was out.  It was early evening and the only thing now that I remember from that first visit was the long living room with the picture window at the end of the room.  That appealed to me in a way that no other house I had seen did.  Only later did I realize that what I was associating with it was the house that I lived in as a young child, a house I barely remember.

I came back the next day to see the house again, this time with the power on, and sometime after that I made an offer and that's how I came to live on Wessyngton Road.  So there were several trips I made here with the real estate agent, whose office was nearby at the Coldwell Banker office on North Highland, just round the corner.  It was only after I moved in that I realized that every time she had brought me here that she must have come from the Cumberland Road end of Wessyngton, that she had never brought me by the apartments at Wessyngton and North Highland.  When I bought my house, I didn't know they were there.

That was more than 20 years ago, and the apartments didn't look good even then; since then, I don't think the landlord has invested much in upkeep.  The plan, at least since 2008 and probably longer, was to sell the property, evict the tenants, knock down the apartments, and build large expensive houses.  For a long time there was a sign there in the yard offering three luxury homes.  But the market for luxury homes wasn't great for a few years -- even in Morningside -- and nothing happened.

Until recently.  The housing market has picked up, the apartments have been sold, and Mark told us that all the tenants got registered letters telling them they have 30 days to vacate.  (Doesn't Georgia law require 60 days notice?)  So it's going to happen.  There are different "for sale" signs up, now, and I expect it won't be long until the tenants are gone and the apartments are razed.

Our friend Mark lives there, and we will miss him, although we hope he will not move too far away.  He's the one who has played guitar at so many of our neighborhood block parties.  So I'm sorry that the apartments -- ramshackle as they are -- are about to be demolished.  I'm also sorry for what it may portend for the street.  If intown property is now this valuable, I'm afraid that some of the other rental properties on the street will follow.  The house Angela used to live in has been vacant for months or maybe longer; we heard it's going to be knocked down and a new house built there.  One of the things that's special about our street is the diversity of people who live here, and a big part of that is the availability of at least relatively affordable rental housing.  Once that's gone, it's going to be less interesting to live here.

Yesterday when Iain and I were walking back from the farmers' market we saw a child's chalk drawings on the driveway at the apartments.  I don't even know if the child who drew this lives there, but if she does, I wonder whether she will have that apartment imprinted on her memory the way that house on 2nd Street in a small town in Oklahoma is on mine.