Over the weekend, there was a tv broadcast from a college in Detroit. And it was a panel discussion on the Underground Railroad and different communities in the Detroit area that have a history of helping with the Underground Railroad in the Civil War. And my dad made the most observant and insightful comment I've heard anyone make in a long time. He said that it's funny how we celebrate these people sneaking into Canada, but how we condemn the Latin Americans who sneak into the US now.
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(Is your mind blown? Mine was.) That is so exactly true. I'd like to see people make this argument to those who want to throw all illegal aliens out of the country. It's essentially the same story. The Underground Railroad is seen and celebrated as a means to a better life, heroic, daring, rebellious, etc. Families are proud to have evidence that their ancestors helped with the railroad or traveled the railroad during the Civil War. It was a very brave thing to do. It still is. Many of the daring people who sneak across the border now are just trying to build a new life for themselves and their families, away from whatever hardships they've endured. They're leaving a warzone. Why don't Americans view what's currently going on in the same light? Is it because we're on the flip side now? I wonder how Canada felt about the people who sneaked into their country during our Civil War? How would our relationship with Canada be if they had decided to build a wall to keep Americans out? Food for thought... My dad is a smart fella and it's not unusual that he comes up with things like this, but that observation struck me so much that I'm still thinking about it days later.
I took a lunchtime trip to my favorite downtown Columbia store: Maude's. I heart Maude's with all my being. I always find cute things. It's a vintage thrift store that also has an enormous array of costumes for parties and Halloween and whatnot. But, the amazing finds you can grab there are unparalleled. I found a few pretty awesome things today, but was sad to get home and try on a really cute dark blue sheath summer dress and find out that it didn't really suit my figure. I threw around the idea of offering it to someone of similar size, but who has a shorter torso so that the silhouette would fit her better. However, I'm not really that into giving up on these things so quickly, especially when I find something as awesome and classic as this dress. So, I altered it with my nail clippers because I couldn't find my seam ripper, which took a really long time...but, it's pretty much perfect now and will add a really versatile and unique piece to my wardrobe. Good Tuesday. Good Maude's.
One of my neighbors has decided that 'methheads' (his word, not mine) have moved into the neighborhood. He interrogated me a few weeks ago about whether or not I'd seen them. I said I didn't really know what a methhead looked like, so I wasn't sure. We have some guys that recently moved into a rental property the next block over and they have a pit bull puppy (they're trying to leash train her and she's kind of sucking at it. I've seen the guys have to pick her up and carry her back home after trying desperately to get her to walk on the sidewalk on the leash across from my house.) Anyway, apparently these white, late teenage/early twenties aged skinny guys with their baby dog who bike around the neighborhood and wear backwards baseball caps are our 'methheads'. My neighbor is taking pains to secure his belongings and has decided that he won't put flowers out on his porch this summer. He says it's because of the cost, but I have a feeling that he is paranoid that the new folks will somehow mess with his stuff. I have this feeling because he's paranoid about a lot of other things. Instead of flowers, he bought some very bright ceramic animals and shellacked them to his brick house so that nobody will be able to take them. Yes. Shellacked. You'd have to get a pick ax to get those things off the house now. I wonder if he's actually talked to the guys? However, these new guys have taken him off the topic of the hippies who moved in last summer and tie-dye bed sheets on the front lawn. The hippes came complete with an orange 70s-era VW van (with a peace sign on the spare tire) AND (in a somewhat bizarre move, I will grant him) a hearse. They alternate between driving their VW van and the hearse around town. It is different, but I really enjoy these types of neighbors. It gives the neighborhood some distinction. We're the conservation district with with the hearse, the hippie van, and the puppy-training methheads. At the center of all is my neighbor, who watches everything, gets overly paranoid about a lot of things, and yet, in an interesting twist, is probably the most eccentric of all: he wants to buy the lot next to him, tear down the house, and build a giant copper elephant in its place.
I have to smile because this neighborhood is so fantastic.
Although, in another story I'll share with you, I am starting to wonder about things that are happening in the cemetery across the street from my house. On Saturday morning, I was sitting out on my porch, just watching the world go 'round and a woman stumbled out of the cemetery and onto the sidewalk across from me. She didn't look very well at all. She looked like she didn't know where she was. She was dressed ordinarily enough, but she stumbled down the sidewalk and I noticed as she walked away that it looked like she might have fallen down at one point because her pants were all dirty. She sort of continued down the sidewalk and I watched her to see what she was going to do next. She walked about a half block further, climbed up the little hill by the side of the parking lot of the nursing home, and collapsed under a tree. And didn't move again. And I sat on my porch, kind of paralyzed and trying to figure out what to do. This is the problem I have with these sorts of situations. I freeze. Luckily, about the time I had just about decided that I would go get a glass of water and try to offer it to her and then call 911, someone was driving out of the parking lot and stopped and started trying to talk to the lady. Then another person showed up, and soon the police were there and then an ambulance and they took her away. It was quite a show for a Saturday morning. But I've noticed a lot more foot traffic coming out of the cemetery. Surely, they're not all visiting graves of relatives? I've never noticed this many people before. It's joggers, and walkers, and yesterday there was a strange truck parked at the apartment next door and I was on the porch and a woman walked out of the cemetery and got in the truck and left. I mean, what the hell? I'm not curious enough to go look, myself. I prefer to let my mind wander to the most outlandish of possibilities and concoct stories while sitting on my porch drinking my kiwi strawberry juice (so good). Maybe if I get really bored this summer, I'll go down to my neighbor's house and knock on his door and ask him what's up with the cemetery people. Stir things up a little bit and give the skinny guys a break from being the object of his paranoia.
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