How's the family?

Family is a great thing. Some people are lucky enough to live relatively close to theirs. Sometimes due to distance, your friends become family. Your family lets you get away with things that many would not. Something that you can be lulled into is the idea that because you think that you’ve immediately made new friends that are really just acquaintances, you can fall into old patterns that your friends have grown accustomed to dealing with.

Your extended family let you go off about something knowing that somehow if you end up going off the map that you’ll find your way back. Acquaintances don’t seem to allow those strays to be overlooked. Your family has grown accustomed to your habits and look at them as quirks. Your acquaintances look at them as problems that must be dealt with in order to be accepted.

I’ve found myself making many friends in my short time in Birmingham (at least, I think so), though it still feels as though I have many acquaintances that have found their way into my life as well.. It’s difficult trying to blend in to a very different society. There are a lot of people that say that going to Savannah was a case of going into a completely different environment compared to New York. Looking back, I can say that moving their under the pretense of attending college made the change in surroundings almost non-existent.

My experiences growing up in the Bronx, while urban, were still different than if all of my life experiences were in Manhattan. Ending up at a college where there were students from all 50 states and more than 80 countries even in the Old South, made that change easier to make than what are normally expected. The melting pot that was and is SCAD made me aware of things that I had not been exposed to at home. It made me appreciate what I had experienced as well, knowing what I brought to the game of survival at college. Some are the ones that get that e-mail or phone call whenever I need some assistance on dealing with those life issues when I want someone that knows me and that favor is always returned. There are some while not achieving what they hoped in terms of graduating or completing college due to leaving this life that taught me several valuable lessons that I am forever grateful for.

I also had an extended family back in New York that went beyond the nuclear. The Lwanga Scholars had gotten me ready to be accepting and realistic about how I would be accepted in society. I recently got a chance to see how several of them were doing after several years. This group taught me more about self-determination and striving for success than many of the other things that I have been involved with over the years. I was reminded that there are some fundamental differences between how my family from the program thinks and some of my acquaintances have thought over the years. The more that I’ve been thinking about it in recent weeks, the more I realize that most of my friends think similarly to the Scholars.

One thing stressed in the program was to be sure that you were proud of your heritage. I tend to make a point to say that I am a Caribbean-American first and foremost. There is a lot made nowadays with regards to holding onto your heritage and making sure that it survives. In this age of political correctness and constant labeling of groups, while I believe that there is more that makes us similar than different, this label allows me to celebrate things that I can never take for granted. It also gives me the opportunity to look at things a bit more objectively than I probably need to whenever it comes to what I’ve tried to accomplish so far.

This Saturday my girlfriend has decided that the best way to mark my turning 30 on the 29 was to invite some of the people that I have grown to consider family (living close enough to make it feasible) to come over and celebrate with me. I just look forward to hoisting a Guinness and enjoying my time with them, and looking at ways to make sure that I don’t let them down as I move forward in my journey through life.

Exploring the Big Apple and how to get there…

I’ve been incommunicado for most of the last two weeks as I’ve been out traveling the country. At least I’ve been traveling portions of the country east of the Mississippi. I decided that I needed to go home to New York. The Lwanga Scholars were having a reunion and that gave me an excuse.

I hate flying. Now, after being in the car for 15-16 hours, there are times that I can say that I don’t like driving either. That feeling doesn’t normally last too long though. Driving gives you the opportunity to take in some sights that you would otherwise would be skimming over. While I’m not a big fan of having to drive around town like crazy for my job, if I have to get from point A to point B for a long trip, I’d rather be behind the wheel of a car. OK, maybe sitting on a train would work too.

Some of the views traveling along the highway are quite breathtaking. There are rolling hills with, in this case, cows seeking shade from the excessively hot sun. I will say that it was weird to be up north and know it was hotter there than it was in Alabama. There were these gorgeous old farm properties with large wood frame homes looking out onto acres and acres of crops getting ready for harvest.

A detour thanks to some blasting along I-81 led me to finally stop in Lexington, Virginia. The town was starting to buzz with the sounds of students beginning or returning to the world of college life. Nice small quaint shops with a “traditional” feel to them. It also reminded me of why I enjoy doing the kind of work that I do. While I was taking an extended break from the road, I picked the brain of a guy who runs a photo gallery. The business was participating in a promotion aimed at getting people to shop downtown instead of the mall by having entertainment and extended hours. You were welcomed into the participating stores with balloons announcing their wanting you to come inside. Some of them sat across the street from the old downtown theater, one that still shows first run films.

There were some large cities along the route, each trying to display why it was important to live and work there. That was all fine and well, but some of the more interesting things out there were the various year-round haunted houses, historic markers and some breathtaking views. It’s better to kiss the ground as you move among it than it is to survey it from above as though you are its conqueror. There are times where I feel as though you miss the story when you’re in the skies. That’s probably that reporter in me trying to come out.

While in New York I was much more adventurous that I had been in a while. I can now say that I have ridden on the Staten Island Ferry and actually been to Staten Island (more on that later this week). On the boat I was asked some questions by a little boy looking out over New York Harbor as the wind hit us in our faces. His mother walked up and said that he always talks to people no matter where they go; he’ll just strike up a conversation. I told her that it’s a great gift and to just enjoy it. He’ll have a lot of fun because of it. I watched as he saw the Statue of Liberty at night as close as you can get without going to the island. I took a picture of Lady Liberty as it was passed by a ferry boat. I hope it comes out the way I hoped it would.

I have this habit of wanting to do and see it all. I’ve also come to realize that I had to do my own back door before I tried to do anywhere else. There are some overseas trips coming up for me in the coming months, but I still want to become a little more familiar with the U.S. Hopefully I’m not too crazy. I also own this “old fashioned” camera and I love to try and capture moments, though there are some that simply need to exist in the depths of your mind. We’ll see if we can get some images posted up here soon. I’ll have some more on this trip in the coming days, so stay tuned…

Trust is earned, and he earned ours...

There are two people that have influenced the way that I view the world and major national events that have taken place in my life so far. One is currently enjoying retirement, though still working at an insane pace for someone who was looking for a more relaxed approach to life. The other seems to have been taken away too soon. Tom Brokaw and Peter Jennings both heavily shaped how I viewed the world, almost as much as my father buying at one point the New York Times, Daily News and New York Newsday papers every Sunday and both of my parents encouraging us to not just read the comics (though it’s still the best part!), but as much as our young brains could comprehend. While attempting to understand the paper was interesting, thinking back to watching these larger than life figures as they brought the world into my living room serves as a reason to still be curious about seeing the world with all its faults and glorys more than anything else. As I’ve listened to the tributes for Mr. Jennings today on both television and internet, it became easy to remember when each person’s influence took shape. It’s verification of what has been said on air about the differences between the Big 3 news anchors. I turned to Dan Rather when I sought folksy takes on the presidential election night coverages that I’ve lived through so far. I became a much bigger fan of Mr. Brokaw’s while living in Savannah, where I sought to become more familiar with this country of my birth and my mind wanted to travel the “blue highways” talked about by William Least Heat-Moon in his book of the same name. He provided the ability to do so while keeping up with the news of the day and learning about the country’s “greatest generation,” those that allowed my family to be able to be here seeking their out dreams, at the same time. Mr. Jennings was different. I gravitated to Mr. Jennings when I wanted to know what the opinion may be in New York or other larger cities. When I wanted to hear a measured, deliberate opinion, I turned to him. It stands to reason that I watched him most of the time growing up in New York and again as I began to settle into life in Birmingham. He spoke with an eloquence that never seemed to make us, his viewers, feel inferior. He spoke with a passion so strong that you knew he lived for the stories he was bringing to our awareness and that there was a genuine interest in getting it as fair and balanced as he could. He never stopped learning and was open to new ideas, and passed those lessons onto those that were interested. The advent of 24 hour news channels and the internet has clouded the image of what our journalists are supposed to be. Adding the expanded world of tabloid and gossip news in the name of journalism muddies the water even more. Their job is still to try to get it right. I was told recently that no one ever does get it right, so stop trying. Mr. Jennings was proof that getting it as right as he could was still important. With all of the sensationalism that exists in the modern day newsroom, it appeared that it was not necessarily the case at 6 p.m. ET on ABC stations. On September 11, I watched Mr. Jennings tell me what was going on in my hometown. I watched him as they processed Princess Diana through the streets early in the morning stateside. I watched him attempt to guide the country through Y2K. I trusted him. I can only hope to be trusted by the people I serve in my job and in everything else that I do even half as much as he was. I must admit that I have returned to NBC and to Brian Williams to be my eyes and ears to the world in these recent months. He’s earned my attention; he’s likely to earn my trust as well, in part due to the respect that he has for the men that have made this dream job of his possible. It’s a job that I had aspirations of attempting in my youth, wanting to explore the world and one that I guess I get to do now as an amateur through this; sharing my opinion while hoping to get the facts right so that others can provide their own opinion. Maybe I’ll earn that trust someday too. Mr. Jennings earned it, and he “…will never come again.” America should be sad because of it.

My kind of town? I'm not sure yet.

Saturday morning I participated in the 2^nd annual Shake and Bake 5K out in Mt. Laurel. This is the second real race that I’ve run since starting rehab work on my right knee in hopes of avoiding the knife. The time was somewhat respectable considering I still have not really gotten back into serious training (36.58.9) and that I figured that finishing with no pain was more important than finishing and being carried off via someone else’s power.

Now, Mt. Laurel is one of the New Urbanist developments that have been sprouting up across much of the country over the past 25-30 years. Andres Duany, considered by many to be the father of New Urbanism, developed Mt. Laurel’s master plan a few years ago, with plans well underway to complete phase II of the development in the near future. The site is about a 20-minute drive from downtown Birmingham with no traffic on U.S. Hwy 280. Green and khaki signs point you towards this enclave that is nestled among farmland and other new subdivision projects in various states of progress. The signs can lead you through a more scenic, winding path or a straight shot to the state road that runs in front of the entrance.

Once inside its low sitting stone walls, it feels as if you’ve been transported to the set of the Truman Show, only it’s been made to resemble what the ideal community in Birmingham could have looked like long ago. The homes being built here are of the highest quality and can cost you anywhere from $200,000 to $400,000. Streets are tree lined and there’s even one of those ideal downtown areas with the local hardware store, soda fountain shop and excellent restaurant. There is a Montessori school, traditional elementary school and an Episcopal church. There are brick pavers covering most of the sidewalks and the site includes a nursery where plants are grown for the landscaping of the “town.” Recreational amenities are abundant in the form of playgrounds and a swimming pool. Planning wise, this is an ideal community coming to life.

Here’s what I don’t get: people move out here to this community, buy their new old house out in this ideal town layout, get into their cars and drive 30-50 minutes due to traffic congestion to their jobs in the big city, get in their cars again at the end of the day to come home while stopping at the big boxes for their needs and the grocery stores for pre-prepared meals and then pull into their garages and roll up the sidewalks in their ideal world to surf the Internet and take part in a virtual community while ignoring the beauty surrounding them. This effective takes away from the walkability factor that many of these communities are based upon.

During the race today, there were several residents out walking and showing support for the runners. I especially like the little boy that had decided to write “Go Daddy!” in red chalk on the sidewalk this morning while his mother watched on. I must say that these were the most residents that I have ever seen walking the streets of Mt. Laurel at any time of day. The other freaky moment came as I walked over after the race to check out the farmer’s market taking place in the town square section. I suddenly realized that there was a dog following me on my right side. I turned and looked down to see what it looked like and the owner was immediately apologetic for the dog just trying to come up and say hello. I saw her later as I went to the car to grab some Gatorade after the race and she made a point of saying that she was keeping her dog away. It kind of made me wonder just how community driven the neighborhood could be at times.

I am definitely not the first person to ever write about the success or failure of this “new” type of housing development. And I’m definitely not going to knock the virtual community that exists today because it allows for people who would have otherwise lost contact to keep in touch. It just struck me today while I was attempting to catch my breath while checking out the homes throughout the property that some people seek to find the perfection in the good old days and are paying a premium for it and then not taking advantage of it. Homes of similar size are available in beautiful sections of the city of Birmingham for much less than their Mt. Laurel counterparts, with the price still being cheaper after paying for renovation costs. The basis of these ideal downtowns still exists if only in building form throughout the region. The need to design new developments in the traditional style is a noble cause indeed, but why can’t we reuse what we’ve already got first?

What's in your city?

I was talking with my friend Curtis Palmer about one of the more recent posts on his blog, and it made me think about viewing the city in a different way. That’s pretty much the result of all conversations with Curtis; I leave wondering just how much stuff there is out there to learn. Anyway… he talked about the fact that the longer that you live somewhere, the more “invisible” it becomes. The idea is that you become so accustomed to most of the scenery that you stop paying attention to the little details and sometimes can miss some special things taking place around you.

I want to challenge the readers of this post to add comments letting me know what stands out to you as the most important landmark in your area. I’m looking for all kinds of answers. It could be the most logical object or building that you see as you come into town or the one place that you will only find if the locals determine you worthy enough to learn of its existence. I have a few answers myself. I plan on spacing them out over several posts throughout the next month. Maybe it will force you to pay some more attention to those around you and notice life.

While not instantly apparent as you enter the city, the statue of Vulcan that overlooks downtown definitely stands out in my mind as an important piece of the skyline of the Magic City. Another friend of mine suggested going up to the observation deck and enjoying the view of the region. It’s become one of my thinking places that sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t for clearing my head. On clear days you have impressive views of the city center, the steel plants that are still active, the airport, and much of the surrounding metropolitan area. The entire park underwent an extensive renovation more than one year ago and the results are impressive. The statue was built for a World’s Fair and remains world’s the largest cast iron statue. The god of fire and craftsmanship was chosen to symbolize the city due to its production of steel. Birmingham is the only place in the world where all of the ingredients needed to produce steel are found naturally.

Bets and I ended up choosing our loft in part due to the view of Vulcan that we have out the window. Especially during the winter months, the view of the statue lit up for the better part of the evening is a pretty nice view. The few visitors that I have had come to town in the past year have been taken to Vulcan Park as it’s the only way to really enjoy a view of the city and get a taste of why Birmingham even came into existence.

So, the ball’s in your court. Let me know what your place is.

Where have you gone Joe D? Ryno wants to join you...

I consider Ryne Sandberg to be one of the greatest men ever to play the game of baseball. This belief has been proven true in my eyes by his actions time and time again: when he decided to simply walk away from the game that he enjoyed and from some of the most dedicated fans in baseball; when he turned down receiving one penny more of salary after retiring from the Cubs because he felt he hadn’t earned it; whenever he hit a home run and just ran the bases like he had a few hundred times before and not show boat and grandstand. There was, is, a class that very few men who play this child’s game possess displayed by “Ryno”.

I found that he did one more thing this past Sunday as he was given one of baseball’s highest honors to solidify his place as one of the classier men to ever be allowed to play in Wrigley Field; in that classic, throwback style that he has, Sandberg used his “last big game…last at-bat…” to remind people that respect and teamwork should and does still matter in this day and age.

Baseball has always been considered by its most fanatical followers as a reflection of the good and bad that exists in our American society. For years, there was an “innocence” about the game that people now long for. The game was not perfect then; Jackie Robinson endured a tremendous struggle to break the color line; Latin players faced their own injustices as they entered the adult play world of America’s pastime. The game did epitomize what the American dream was supposed to be about; working your way up through uncertain obstacles to achieve a place on one of the largest stages in the world. You shared that stage with your teammates. You almost never heard of everyday players showing up the manager. Or not running out a squiggler to the mound in hopes that someone will bobble it. There was always respect shown for fellow players and the organization. In a modern world where the top rated shows are more about standing out and emphasizing the individual than the group, baseball reflects a society in need of hogging the spotlight. Ball players probably have to learn as many specialized hand shakes for after their Ruthian home runs as they do signals for running in the base paths. Americans are more concerned about the name and age of the car in the driveway than about the quality of education in our schools or the real level of our values at this day and age.

Many players in all sports are concerned about not wanting to be role models in this SportsCenter-highlight, lightning fast information age. They’re more concerned about how they look on television that day. They can’t drop down the bunt and give up two points on their batting average just to provide a better chance to win as Sandberg and players of his caliber could and did do. Play nowadays becomes selfish rather than selfless. The respect for the game has been replaced by the need to show someone up and have the last word.

It has become uncommon to have something happen similar to the events surrounding former Sandberg teammate Greg Maddux’s 3,000^th strikeout. Maddux struck out a potential future Hall of Famer, current Giants shortstop Omar Vizquel, looking. The ballpark went crazy as flashbulbs went off to capture the moment. Maddux did not pump his fist. He didn’t glare down the batter. He simply walked off the mound and headed the dugout as he always did. He’d done it before, he planned to do it again soon and he’d done his job.

There are people who think that those who respect the game or respect their beliefs or jobs are grandstanders in their own right. The need to do it the right way has been equated with being weak. Maybe it will one day be equated with being the classier individual as it once was.

Let me know what you think.