BELSIZE PARK

Driving around on Sunday and I ran into this at 34th and Park Ave.

An American Hell

These pictures were taken in Apple Valley, MN, an ex-burb of Minneapolis that has come to exemplify, for me, the rotten core of America. Let me explain.

These structures cover, no, are the landscape for dozens of square miles south of the Minnesota River. The corn farmers sold out to the real estate speculators that swarmed out from the cities in the 90's. Corporate farming, much of it "headquartered" in the Twin Cities, had driven down the market prices for crops to the point where a developer's offer represented the only future a farm family had.

Look at what resulted. Fields of barracks.

These are called, "multi-family homes," which could also be called "high-density, high-profit land packing." Their design owes much to the television and the car. I suppose they are the logical step past the factory towns and tract homes of the 50's and 60's. They fill the need of the the modern American. Each has a two-car garage which is vital for two reasons. One, the SUV, the truck and the car define the American owner and need protection as their clothes need a closet. Look at the pictures, their "house" cannot offer them any definition. Two, the malls (there are no "shops"), the schools, their jobs are literally miles away. They cannot walk anywhere from here!

The television. It keeps them inside. Why should they act when they can watch, therefore why own a yard? Besides, a yard means yardwork and yardwork takes time away from television. A dilema the developers have solved by offering no yard at all.

The price of these homes surprised me, but not for long. They sell for more than my extended bungalow would which sits detached from any other house on one-third of a acre only two blocks from the city limits of Minneapolis proper. Why? Well, to start with, I live in a multi-ethnic neighborhood. Ah, yes.. I hear you say. Homogeneity: very important to a lot of people. Also, these dwellings are new. "New" counts for a lot in America. It is an attribute that beats quality, esthetics, value, etc. every time.

Yesterday I walked through one of these "houses" that was still unfinished. I shuffled through the building debris and examined the construction. The walls were flimsy and the craftmanship poor. Clearly the builder was counting on the drywall, paint and carpet to cover his sins. In fifty years the place might not even be standing but, I suppose, that's not the point. The property speculator, the developer, the builder and the mortgage company will have all made their profit and moved on. I'm sure that they try not to think of the lives that will have to be shoehorned into these stuctures that they have thrown up. Do they count on the occupants being as trancient as their foundations are weak? Do they assume these homes, in time, will be plowed under like the corn?

A depressing place furnished with ugly buildings built on all too common principles.

Oldest Segway Pilot ?

My thoughts as I stumble into work on a Tuesday morning and see this...

"Old man..old man balancing on two wheels..Oh good, I'm hallucinating..Stroke maybe?..no, that's one of those..but.."

So after I get my mouth closed the old boy says, "It's a Segway." And I say, "Yeah, I know..."Then he says, "Wanna try it?" And I do. And we talk. HE'S 95 AND AS HAPPY AS HELL!

There's hope for us all.

A different 4th...

First off, the small-town-like parade on Como Ave. with my brother's family which featured no marching bands, thankfully, given the incident of a few weeks ago.

There were, however, Marching Brides.

Then it was on to to downtown and the Mall. Not a whole lot happening except for a herd of Elks wandering among the cafes and bars. (The fratenal orginization was in town, not the four-legged kind...)

I could just barely hear reggae or ska as I approached the south end of Nicollet Ave. and I took off to hunt it down. Barrelled across the bridge but had to stop midway for this:

Don't ask, I don't know.

The music got louder as I scampered off the bridge and through the usually quite little enclave called Nicollet Island. But then I ran out of island. The band was on Boom Island and a side branch of the Mississippi was in my way.

A big guy strides up, clearly in the same predicament, and we confer. We're stuck until a dogwalking passerby points out a small bridge. We scramble down the bank to the bridge only to confront a card table with a sign taped to it: "$18.50" We scramble back up the bank.

Abdullah had come this way from Dinkytown but headed back across the bridge to downtown with me. We chewed over old buildings, music (he's a pianist), design, and the capabilities of new digital cameras. My old camera served as an example of what neither of us wanted. Its 1/3 megapixal and is the size and weight of half a large brick. Still, it'll let me show him to you.

Then there was this:

Falcons nest in the tower of the Minneapolis City Hall and this fledgling had decided on a stroll over to the jail. I refuse to call it by it's official name, the Adult Detention Facility. It's a JAIL made to look like an office building no matter what they call it!

End of the fun? Not hardly! My friend and mentor C. pulled up next to me at a stoplight on Hiawatha. She was headed to the Dairy Queen...So after a multi-hour conversation in the setting sun I headed home.

As I drifted off to sleep the fireworks-addicted neighbors unleashed their massive arsenal. I had forgotten it was the 4th. Damn. Three hours later, as I drifted off to sleep....

Military luxury.

Does anything about this strike you as odd?

The boys in blue show up.

So I'm out for a quiet Saturday morning stroll....

And all hell breaks loose.......

Two cops on motorcycles roar around the corner so I think: motorcade's a-coming. Nope, just every squad car in Minneapolis. Seems the gentleman being offered a ride here was having a disagreement with his beloved after an all night gin fest. The authorities are called to referee and our boy lands a punch on the responding officer. Well, the punchee gets on the blower, because he doesn't take to kindly to this, and the entire force stands on the gas arriving soon after, brakes a-smokin'.

A woman walks up to me and says, "Eleven cop cars for one guy! That's where our tax money is going!" She walks away and I think, yeah, but it beats TV.

Sitting around the house yesterday....

...after a less-than-hard day's work, just falling into that peace that comes from knowing that the next few hours are yours AND THEN A MARCHING BAND SETS UP SHOP IN THE NEIGHBOR'S FRONT YARD!

They practiced for a hour and a half before setting off for a parade a few streets away leaving me edgy and wondering if the hearing-aid concerns sponser this kind of thing. I'm afraid that the dog across the street will never be the same.

A St. Paul Evening....

One of those very rare perfect evenings. Dinner with a great friend kicked things off. Carmello's on Snelling Ave is now my favorite Italian eatery. Pesto can be screwed up. They didn't. Anyway, the walk around Como Lake afterwards was made even more perfect by true spring weather. It seems we get this only one day a year....

We strolled and talked about important things then retired to the Dairy Queen and talked some more. Perfect.

On the way home I ran into the hot rods parading past Porky's Drive-in on University. Lookouts had been posted on the corners, bleach dumped in the street and each muscle car moved forward to smoke the tires. The air was cool. There was a crescent moon hanging in the darkening sky and I thought there are some things in the middle of America that aren't so bad.

Magic for sale

This is where I blew my first allowance. I went in with a couple of bucks and left with a handful of magic.

Minneapolis, thinking of Belsize Park...