The World Changes One Step or Generation at a Time

As a kid, I asked my uncle why he never went to church when he came home to Tennessee.  His sisters would go with their children and I can recall the church--pews without cushions, my grandfather singing and the smell of pine.  His response was he hadn't found a church where you could be a Buddhist Baptist at the same time.  He loved the hymns, but wasn't caught up in all the fire and brim stone rhetoric.  It wasn't until after he passed in 2004 that I heard what  Paul Harvey would describe as "the rest of the story".

My uncle was a senior in high school in 1964.  He had left Cosby High School to go to Newport High School (the city school) because it was the only school in the county to offer calculus.  Denton Baptist had youth led Sundays and when it was his turn to put together the program he wanted to invite the gospel choir of his new school.  There were African Americans in the choir and the preacher, who was originally from South Carolina, told him that they were not allowed at a white church.  My uncle preached that Sunday on intolerance and Jesus' love for all people.  As I am told he used a fire and brim stone approach to the preacher's prejudices.  I'm not sure if he stormed out of the church or quietly went back to his seat, but in my mind he stormed out with gusto.  In his sermon he told the congregation that he no longer intended to be a Baptist and requested that an official letter renouncing him in the Southern Baptist fold be sent to him.  My uncle got his letter and my grandfather didn't go back to the church until the South Carolina preacher was replaced which was about two years later.  I don't know that my grandmother ever went back.  This event had changed my uncle in ways I'll never understand.  I was always  proud of my uncle, his accomplishments, his influence on my life and after hearing this story I realized how lucky I was that he left a mark on my DNA.

In Charlotte I attend St. Martin's Episcopal Church.  Last November, I became an official Episcopalian and have never thought twice about finding another church home.  From the moment, I walked onto the grass bare lawn I knew there was something different about St. Martin's and the best I can describe it is an open, loving community where everyone is welcome.  The smiles can be seen on the faces, but people here tend to smile with the eyes and the heart.  This month I attended my first Pastoral Blessing (in other words--a gay wedding).  The men who were having their union blessed are my Kanuga mates and I make them laugh with my Cosby stories--seriously people it is hard to find better material than my family--both sides.  Typically,  there is at least one cocktail before the heavy eastern Tennessee accent bubbles out.

I don't usually have a lot of emotion when it comes to wedding ceremonies.  At this ceremony I couldn't help but have the biggest smile and near tears because somewhere in the middle of it all my heart opened to what was really going on--I was watching the world change and in one micro step.  In this service, our collective humanity was showing its fullness at acceptance. This was no better said than by Father Murdock in his  homily (without fire and brim stone) in which he reminded the audience that God loves us all regardless of the labels society places upon us.  In my own world, witnessing this even was just one generation from how my uncle became the Buddhist Baptist.
To my friends Bryce and Jarrett, I wish you great love and happiness and I hope that I will always be able to entertain you both for many more Septembers on the porch at a Kanuga cabin. (This is where I plug that we want to be placed on the main row from here on out or until one of us turns 80--not naming who that will be first--not it.)


(Photo courtesy of facebook and poprockphotography...ya'll she really rocks as a photographer.  Please see her work on facebook )

Hookers Don't Wear Herringbone Pants

I have a friend who loves all the ideas of public transportation and the real estate development potential associated with better mass transit options such as light rail EXCEPT when it comes to riding the bus in Charlotte. I would say that he is not alone in this thought. Many Charlotteans would say that CATS buses and the system itself leave a lot to be desired especially convenience but that is a whole separate discussion.

I know many who advocate for better transit choices, place-making neighborhoods and walkability who don't live out their advocacy principles. Last week I used our City's transportation system to make my way to the 10th Annual New Partners for Smart Growth Conference. I don't have a lot of opportunities to use public transportation for my commute (seriously it adds an hour one way to my daily drive in order to take the bus) and honestly, I rely on my car more than I care to admit (guilty of first sentence in this paragraph). But when I can, I make a point to take the bus into Center City (formerly known as Uptown thanks to a new marketing program).


There are many reasons to like the bus. One is the bus stop. If you are lucky enough to have a bus stop with a bench and shelter over your head, waiting on the bus is not a problem. This is important because the laws of physics say that you will see your bus leave as you get within 50 feet of the bus stop so you are bound to wait for the next one. One morning I waived to my neighbor while sitting on the bench on Central Ave. Obviously, he was taken by surprise. We talked later and he said, " You looked like a hooker on that corner". To which I replied, "Hookers don't wear wool herringbone pants or hang out at bus shelters in front of the McDonald's". These things hold true in Charlotte. We may have hookers, but they aren't at my bus stop.


Another reason to love the bus stop are the conversations you overhear while pretending to look ahead for the next bus (again, because you just missed it by 2 minutes) or pretending to check your facebook page on your fancy-dancy smart phone. I had the privilege of "not hearing" a conversation between a lesbian couple. In that conversation, I learned that one of the neighborhood business owners has not paid his rent in over a year and has given the IRS a bad check. More importantly, it is the theory of the couple that this occurred because God changed his "luck ". God did this because he had wronged his wife when he left her. The neighborhood business owner had thought his karma (apparently an interchangeable word for God's "luck") had changed because he sent some kid to see his dying father. This could not be the case according to one of the women telling the story because he did this benevolent act with gambled winnings. And, somehow being lucky at gambling has nothing to do with God's "luck". I didn't want to point out that they waited just as long as it would have taken to walk the 1.5 miles to their destination because I was much appreciative of their $3.50 investment in order to receive their lesson on luck and God.

The last thing I personally like about public transportation is that it is the great social equalizer without resorting to income redistribution. No one is greater than anyone else on that bus. My need to get to my destination was no different than the blind man with the most heart warming smile, working mother and her child who was learning to spell on a smart phone app, the mentally-disturbed man who carried his important papers in a CVS shopping basket or suit-wearing banker type trying to ignore his surrounds with his ipod. The only difference I could tell was that it was my choice to take transit into Center City and most on my line do not have that choice. So one day if there is in fact a hooker that wears wool herringbone pants (to be clear again....not me) and she rides the bus, I hope she feels just as equal as us all.

My Urban Adventure

I am a suburban employee. Not only do I work in a suburb of Charlotte, I also guide how the growth of the suburb will go. When I get a chance to feel like a big city girl, I take it. Today (thanks in part to my mother dropping me off) I got to take an urban adventure. It all started with the day of doctor visits. Everytime I need routine doctors visits I try to schedule these all on the same day. It makes going to the doctor less stressful. Usually I can knock out 3 at a time. Today was special because the Egyptian inbound team was making their presentation to the Charlotte Rotary. So after the dentist who is on the 14th floor of the Grant Thorton building, I walked to the Crowne Plaza. I think it needs to be said that there are frost and wind advisories all day and I am in open toe shoes. On this trip I was picked up by the wind at least 3 times. Not by much, but it was a concerted effort to remain grounded.

I found the best coffee shop called Kokomo Cafe. They let me chill out for an hour. The only downer to this cafe experience was loosing at checkers to Bryant who by the way looks different in a suit.

After the presentation, I walked down Trade to wait on the 27Monroe Road bus. This is where the pictures of the bus sign come in. A guy waiting on the 15 bus began talking to me and coming closer. He first wanted to know where my boyfriend was. I told him that he worked uptown and we just had lunch. This was a lie but it seemed like the time to lie. At least I didn't make up a whole pretend life for myself. What I noticed was this man made me uncomfortable, but I didn't know why. I'm sure he was trying to hit on me (completely not my type--I'll start with the smoking and end with the bad teeeth and overall creepiness). He asked me if pink was my favorite color because my exposed toes are shaded in pink (I think blue would have also been a good guess considering they were almost frozen solid). But I went with green. I was wearing my great green jacket and feeling very Mary Tyler Moore. We eventually parted ways, but it got me thinking about the types of experiences that you have outside of your car and the interactions you can't get in traditional suburbia where the car is king (to say that Charlotte is a transit-oriented city would be a considerable stretch of the imagination).

I got on the 27M and got promptly off at St. Martin's on 7th near Independence Park. Once finished at St. Martin's,I went to find the 39Eastway bus. This required a bit of a walk onto Hawthorne. I had just missed the bus and decided that I would walk to the 9Central which is a bus route I am more familar with as it is my main line into uptown. When I say familiar, I really mean " I have taken this route twice". On the bridge over Independence Blvd, a man stopped me and wanted to know how he, as a pedestrian, got onto US 74. For those of you that aren't familiar, that is Independence Blvd. I shrugged my shoulders and began to say that it would be very hard and a very long walk to go where he was headed, but I got him to Monroe Rd and then to Westover. He seemed up for the hike. He had an hour and a half to waste. I thought about all the things I would rather do than walk to the motor mile on Independence, but to each their own.

I continued my walk to Central. The railroad company was working on the tracks, there were detours which is also affecting the bus system so I decided to walk to The Plaza and of course along the way there are a couple of antique stores so I decided that I must stop because I am still looking for a fire king candy dish/cookie jar for Shannon. (Still to no avail...Asheville here I come). Shannon needs a "pushin' present" because quite frankly the baby is getting everything. This could also be considered a belated house-warming present. Well, once I was at the Plaza, The walk became, "I'll just make it to the next bus stop" until I was so close to home, it seemed ridiculous to get on the bus just to get off one stop down.

What you must know is that this entire journey is done in two and a half inch heels. There is a saying that a woman can do anything a man can do and she does it in heels. Like I said earlier, I embraced my inner Mary Tyler Moore and just gave my beret a big whirl in the air...heels and all.

The pictures that you see are my views on the walk. I am practicing this blogging thing before I go to Egypt...one might say this is the beta version and is still in need of serious tech support. I have 18 days to work it out, so thanks for hanging in there.