Milwaukee Avenue: When Citizens #Resist

Earlier this week a friend and I explored the length of Milwaukee Avenue in the Seward neighborhood of Minneapolis. In a city where an avenue can stretch for a hundred blocks, Milwaukee Avenue is just two blocks.

I was struck by the rows of small houses built on lots that are a quarter the size of typical Minneapolis home lots.

The houses were built by a real estate developer in the 1880's in response to the large influx of working class people to Minneapolis. They were built economically to maximize profit, but with a consistent architecture that includes some flourishes. They look stunning when you look down the avenue and take the street in as a whole.

A Fully Baked Truth

Today, in Montmartre, Paris, I stared at the Moulin Rouge, explored the elaborate cemetery, and walked past a boulangerie (bake shop) where a sign quoted a simple truth from Benjamin Franklin.

When Fear Rules

January 1990: I flew back home to Minneapolis after attending my father's funeral in England. As the plane descended over Minneapolis my anxiety level rose, as it always did at this point in my journey back to the USA.

Flying doesn't bother me in the least. It was the thought of being questioned by an immigration official and being denied entry to the USA. I'd be forced onto the next flight back to the UK, separated from my partner, my home, my job, my life.

As I walked towards Immigration Control, my pulse would race, I would try not to shake. I rehearsed the upcoming encounter in my head:

Immigration Official: Are you a homosexual?
Me: I have nothing to say.

Inauguration Day 2017

Today, Inauguration Day 2017, I did my bit to support artistic expression and local beer.

Artistic expression is constitutionally protected speech. Art can express compassion, empathy, inclusiveness, but it can be annoying, uncomfortable, nihilistic. A crucifix immersed in the artist's urine is not my go-to artistic experience, but neither is mind-numbing kitsch.

My America

Today I waited at Cedar Riverside light rail station for a friend. We were going to walk and chat about our memories of the area. He, and his father before him, had attended the nearby Augsburg College. [See his blog post.]

100 years ago, the Cedar Riverside area of Minneapolis was the first American home for waves of Scandinavians. Augsburg College, with its Norwegian/Lutheran roots was well situated here.

Back then, the prevailing culture sometimes stereotyped the newcomers as dumb, clumsy, heavy drinkers who talked with a funny accent.

My Post-Election Microblog

Walked past polling places on my way to Downtown. I voted early by mail. https://t.co/QLit1rPhnd pic.twitter.com/aNW9zBnzXK

— Tom Wilson (@TomPhase3) November 8, 2016

In 1960, in a school playground in Northern England, boys were grabbing younger boys and demanding: "Nixon or Kennedy?" If you answered "Nixon" you got roughed up.

All the boys were answering "Kennedy" so I answered "Nixon." I was nine.

My nephews are eight and nine. I wonder if last week's election has inspired bullying in their school playground. I wonder how the girls feel about themselves.

The Internet is not a place to emote: our rants fall on deaf ears, and we deepen our divisions. I don't care for slacktivism: nothing changes in the world when I click on Like.

My microblog (displayed to the right of this post) is simply a place to highlight something I actually did each day. It's almost exclusively something for which I am grateful. This past week I have tried to find small meanings in my actions.

The Meaning of Shadows

This morning I photographed my shadow, firmly attached to me. Although it was almost noon, the sun was quite low in the sky.

In 1847 Hans Christian Andersen wrote The Shadow, a short story that talks to the present time. Here's the bare details

A man gave his shadow permission to leave and explore the home across the street from his home.  

The shadow did not return for several years. It was now in human form, and the man and his former shadow became friends. 

After that visit the man did not see his former shadow for several years. When the shadow returned, it forced a role reversal. It was now the master. 

Ultimately, the shadow had his former master thrown into prison then executed.

It's no accident I read this dark story this week.

A Strange Election

I voted early.

A strange thing happened today as I was jogging slowly round our neighborhood lake, Lake of the Isles.

A diminutive older woman was trying to catch my attention. She announced proudly in broken English that she was voting for the Republican candidate for President. "Very good, very good" she declared to prove her case. By now her right hand was over her heart, and I wondered if she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance.