Journal prompt: You may find that moving into your organizing residency is like entering a new culture. Your organizing placement group may have completely different methods of working, ways of relating to each other, and styles of communication. If you feel this to be true, how does it feel to be working in a different culture? What can you learn from the differences? How can you find ways to be yourself in your work while still meeting the work/culture expectations of your placement group?
I’ve been thinking a lot about culture the past four weeks—side note (one of many) good grief, it’s been a month already!—but less so within the context of my placement as within the community that I am organizing. My placement is quite casual with its relationships. Everyone is really friendly and there is a great sense of camaraderie between staff. My supervisor organized “Union Solidarity Night” a couple weeks ago at a local drinking establishment in order to boost morale since so many of our staff have been organizing in Indiana; I guess she felt that the office is lonelier than usual. I think with the work that we’re doing—the long hours, the confrontational nature of it, the lack of formal structure in many cases—it’s necessary to create a deep bond between the workers. I am beginning to take on a fairly strong workplace identity myself and I see that my co-workers are near to having "Union" tattooed within a heart on their shoulder (I can’t say that I’m quite there yet). So here, I love it. And if Ann and I have a talk until 8:30pm about the nature of the organizing conversation, so much for the better that it happen over a plate of nachos.
This culture is similar to my placement last year at a small (3.5 person staff) community organization. We had staff lunches occasionally and retreats and it was very well understood that we were interesting individuals with a life apart from work that could well bleed into our jobs to give us some dimension. I appreciate having these experiences as it gives me hope that there are plenty of workspaces that are functional (or perhaps dysfunctional, but at least effective) and satisfying to work in. But then again, I work with a group of people who are mostly within my socio-economic status and educational background. That’s a totally inaccurate description actually--I work alongside these individuals, but for the most part I’m working with Childcare Center owners and staff. And that is where the culture shock extends.
*Please point out any potentially misguided interpretations from a (formerly) suburban (currently) white young woman and let’s talk about them.
I had no familiarity with the race/class politics of Chicago before moving here a year ago. The spaces (read: sides of the city, neighborhoods, sides of the street) are clearly delineated. They are well marked on maps that you can buy in any tourist shop or museum in the area as well as by sight alone. The example that most clearly stands out in my memory is from my first walk around the neighborhood with my fellow Avodah roommates. We walked down Winemac Ave towards the el stop when we got to Broadway. Our side, the Andersonville side, was neat, grassier, with well-kept houses. Across the street, the Uptown side, was trash-littered, starker, and dingier-seeming. There are many areas of the city where the gradation of income between neighborhoods is less gradual and much more striking. There is also a strong sentiment of where “good” neighborhoods are and what areas are dangerous. The violent crimes are often localized to the south and west sides of the city, but I think many people attribute the crime to the residents of those areas than to the natural repercussions (poverty, gangs, food deserts, shitty schools, foreclosed properties) of segregated and oppressed neighborhoods.
The first two days of work I spent door-knocking with another staff member on the South side. I was so excited! Having organized in one of the wealthiest parts of Chicago, I was eager to finally have a “real” experience on a notoriously dangerous side. Yes, stupid of me, I know. Yes, stupid that half of a city could be considered notoriously dangerous, I know. Yes, stupid that I hadn’t given half a thought to the possibility that the precept might be based on racism, classism, and unfamiliarity and not on reality, I know. There was no danger. There was little intrigue. There were mostly streets of brick houses where no one was home and it was boring. There were occasionally residents home—who were polite, and approximately half of those were politely not interested.
I think it would be a disservice (and inaccurate) to ignore differences that I did notice and just pretend that everything is the same everywhere. There were many homes with boarded-up windows and doors that had been foreclosed. Anecdotally, there are some streets where every other home has been foreclosed. There are more currency exchanges and loan offices than banks. There are fewer el stops. These things seem to have a great deal of systemic causes perchance. Thoughts?
Culturally (maybe?), after work/school there were many people outside their homes talking to each other and walking between houses. This could be cultural; it could also be because it’s easier to sit on the front porch of a house rather than an apartment building. I don’t know. Nearly everyone we passed on the predominately residential streets said hello or how are you. I felt self-conscious about it initially—oh, I am white and clearly don’t live here. But then I noticed that folks were saying hi to most everyone. Again, it could be cultural; it could also be that we were in a residential area where people were more likely to know their neighbors personally. I don’t know, but it did feel similar to walking around Rogers Park (large orthodox Jewish neighborhood) on Saturday afternoon and passing residents on their Shabbas walk and saying a quick shalom. Community, knowing each other, shared identity?
Ha, re-reading this, it all seems so ridiculous—I’m shocked and amazed when neighbors say hello. But really, for the large part people don’t greet each other in my neighborhood. They have one afternoon a year allotted for a block party where they pretend that this is a normal and functional way of living in a community. I wish we did say hello. Maybe I’ll start? Informal community organizing on my block?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Week in Review and What I Do (Rhymes!)
For my residency, I am required to write reflections every other week. I may post more often than that, but for now I'll at least put up my reflections.
*I'm trying to be a little vague about where I work and who my supervisors are, so the names are made up. I feel quite spy-like about all this. For those who know me, this is good news.
1. Reflect on your first two weeks of work and look back to the opening retreat. What did you learn at the retreat that has been helpful to you in your work so far? What will you being doing over the coming weeks to carry that learning forward?
The past two weeks have been exhausting, but only in part due to work. I feel like I’m constantly running—I started to say my Avodah goodbyes last week, had a final shabbat on Friday, packed Friday night, cleaned with my roommates all day Saturday, and moved out of Avodah/into my new apartment Sunday. All the changes are great and I feel like I’m moving forward (perhaps I would venture to say that I feel slightly more grown-up), but I haven’t had time to settle into my new space at home which is making me feel slightly off balance and more fatigued than I usually would be. That’s not what this post is supposed to reflect on, but I know many folks are moving long(er) distances and I want to give a little room to commiserate.
On to the subject at hand. Organizing. For a bit of context: I am working in the New Organizing division at a Chicago union. They do precisely what the title suggests by organizing new workforces. The union is pretty baller and has taken the responsibility of organizing a lot of folks who work from home or indepepndently and would otherwise not have access to each other or have many resources for building power related to their jobs.
The first two days of work I was thrown to the wolves (albeit friendly and supportive canines) and rode along with Sarah* (my mentor for the internship) and later another organizer on house calls for the union's membership blitz. We had a list of individuals who were either homecare or home childcare workers and we visited 40-60 to talk to them about joining as members. Most people weren’t home which was more exhausting than anything else. The long hours were less tiresome when we intermittantly spoke with people about joining (which happened more the second day). The work was a bit mundane and since each of the conversations were around ten minutes, there wasn’t opportunity to develop a relationship (and clearly that wasn’t the point) beyond the immediate request.
The rest of the week, I followed my supervisor Ann* around to child care centers in the south suburbs of Chicago. There, we talked with workers as well as owners about the need to unionize and build collective power and had steps for them to take to further the process of joining either the Alliance or union. Monday, Ann gave me my own list of centers and this past week I have been making appointments with owners, trying to make appointments with owners, driving about the South side stopping at centers whose owners wouldn’t answer the phone, and finally meeting with a few owners to discuss the Alliance/union with them. Despite being tired and perhaps a little cranky, I’ve really enjoyed being out on my own having organizing conversations with owners and finding out what their struggles are.
This is a haphazard reflection, but since the set-up of my work is non-traditional I think I might take the space to explain the campaign. Sorry I’m a bit all over the place.
The union decided that the best avenue for organizing childcare workers would be through a collective process with the owners. The vast majority of childcare centers in the city are populated by children on subsidy programs (their parents qualify for government assistance in paying for childcare since otherwise it’s hella expensive). Furthermore, many centers use a few different subsidy programs to enroll children (state funding, Chicago Public Schools, Headstart). Some of these programs have minimum requirements for teacher wages, minimum child enrollment, maximum teacher-child ratios and other necessary qualifications that, given the funding provided, make it very difficult for centers to come out ahead. Consequently, owners are not withholding vast quantities of pay or benefits from their staff which is the usual unionizing rationale, but rather owners aren’t receiving enough funding from the gov’t to pay the teachers what they deserve. Or give them health insurance. Lame.
Therefore, the union created a structure where owners can join the Alliance (a collective of center owners) while their employees join the union directly. The Alliance then acts as the bargaining unit for owners and the union for the workers. Through a mediated process, owers and workers met over the course of a few months to establish a Collective Bargaining Agreement (aka Master Contract) which sets wage and paid-vacation minimums as well as a grievance policy for workers. This agreement provides some insurance to workers as well as evidence that center owners are organized and willing to create a cohesive standard that they stand behind. Center owners also benefit from being in the Alliance because they can then share resources across centers (payroll, bulk purchases, training, potentially health insurance plans, etc.).
Finally, the Alliance in conjunction with the union builds MAD POWER through participating bodies. Hurray!
It’s new, it’s revolutionary, and I think it’s a win-win-win situation. There is also talk about getting parents involved because, as we know, sucks to lose your childcare subsidy and suddenly have 3 kids to find inexpensive babysitters for.
Ah, to the reflection prompts…In my conversations with owners, I’ve been employing use of the Active Listening techniques. I am a class-A nodder. I’ll continue to do so. Our conversations follow a pretty rigid organizational flow: Introduction of self-->Drawing Out (asking owner much background information on relationship to owning childcare business—how long they did it, did they do home child care before or taught, what they love about it, how they got into it)-->Issues (what are challenges they face at work, given unlimited funds what would they do)-->Agitation (state budget crisis, loss of funding)-->Polarization (elected officials who don’t know what owners need, not prioritizing the education of our children, systemic inequalities)-->Vision (what would the response be if thousands of childcare owners, workers, and parents rallied together in Springfield, how could care be improved if we won more funding for the program)-->Commitment (sign up for Alliance/Union).
Since the initial conversation is so pivotal, there is an abundance of active listening going on. While watching Ann, I thought that I would never be able to retain all the information (we want to know stats on enrollment, # of teachers, turnover rate, funding sources, etc.) but paying close attention works well. I think having intention on being present is extremely helpful.
*I'm trying to be a little vague about where I work and who my supervisors are, so the names are made up. I feel quite spy-like about all this. For those who know me, this is good news.
1. Reflect on your first two weeks of work and look back to the opening retreat. What did you learn at the retreat that has been helpful to you in your work so far? What will you being doing over the coming weeks to carry that learning forward?
The past two weeks have been exhausting, but only in part due to work. I feel like I’m constantly running—I started to say my Avodah goodbyes last week, had a final shabbat on Friday, packed Friday night, cleaned with my roommates all day Saturday, and moved out of Avodah/into my new apartment Sunday. All the changes are great and I feel like I’m moving forward (perhaps I would venture to say that I feel slightly more grown-up), but I haven’t had time to settle into my new space at home which is making me feel slightly off balance and more fatigued than I usually would be. That’s not what this post is supposed to reflect on, but I know many folks are moving long(er) distances and I want to give a little room to commiserate.
On to the subject at hand. Organizing. For a bit of context: I am working in the New Organizing division at a Chicago union. They do precisely what the title suggests by organizing new workforces. The union is pretty baller and has taken the responsibility of organizing a lot of folks who work from home or indepepndently and would otherwise not have access to each other or have many resources for building power related to their jobs.
The first two days of work I was thrown to the wolves (albeit friendly and supportive canines) and rode along with Sarah* (my mentor for the internship) and later another organizer on house calls for the union's membership blitz. We had a list of individuals who were either homecare or home childcare workers and we visited 40-60 to talk to them about joining as members. Most people weren’t home which was more exhausting than anything else. The long hours were less tiresome when we intermittantly spoke with people about joining (which happened more the second day). The work was a bit mundane and since each of the conversations were around ten minutes, there wasn’t opportunity to develop a relationship (and clearly that wasn’t the point) beyond the immediate request.
The rest of the week, I followed my supervisor Ann* around to child care centers in the south suburbs of Chicago. There, we talked with workers as well as owners about the need to unionize and build collective power and had steps for them to take to further the process of joining either the Alliance or union. Monday, Ann gave me my own list of centers and this past week I have been making appointments with owners, trying to make appointments with owners, driving about the South side stopping at centers whose owners wouldn’t answer the phone, and finally meeting with a few owners to discuss the Alliance/union with them. Despite being tired and perhaps a little cranky, I’ve really enjoyed being out on my own having organizing conversations with owners and finding out what their struggles are.
This is a haphazard reflection, but since the set-up of my work is non-traditional I think I might take the space to explain the campaign. Sorry I’m a bit all over the place.
The union decided that the best avenue for organizing childcare workers would be through a collective process with the owners. The vast majority of childcare centers in the city are populated by children on subsidy programs (their parents qualify for government assistance in paying for childcare since otherwise it’s hella expensive). Furthermore, many centers use a few different subsidy programs to enroll children (state funding, Chicago Public Schools, Headstart). Some of these programs have minimum requirements for teacher wages, minimum child enrollment, maximum teacher-child ratios and other necessary qualifications that, given the funding provided, make it very difficult for centers to come out ahead. Consequently, owners are not withholding vast quantities of pay or benefits from their staff which is the usual unionizing rationale, but rather owners aren’t receiving enough funding from the gov’t to pay the teachers what they deserve. Or give them health insurance. Lame.
Therefore, the union created a structure where owners can join the Alliance (a collective of center owners) while their employees join the union directly. The Alliance then acts as the bargaining unit for owners and the union for the workers. Through a mediated process, owers and workers met over the course of a few months to establish a Collective Bargaining Agreement (aka Master Contract) which sets wage and paid-vacation minimums as well as a grievance policy for workers. This agreement provides some insurance to workers as well as evidence that center owners are organized and willing to create a cohesive standard that they stand behind. Center owners also benefit from being in the Alliance because they can then share resources across centers (payroll, bulk purchases, training, potentially health insurance plans, etc.).
Finally, the Alliance in conjunction with the union builds MAD POWER through participating bodies. Hurray!
It’s new, it’s revolutionary, and I think it’s a win-win-win situation. There is also talk about getting parents involved because, as we know, sucks to lose your childcare subsidy and suddenly have 3 kids to find inexpensive babysitters for.
Ah, to the reflection prompts…In my conversations with owners, I’ve been employing use of the Active Listening techniques. I am a class-A nodder. I’ll continue to do so. Our conversations follow a pretty rigid organizational flow: Introduction of self-->Drawing Out (asking owner much background information on relationship to owning childcare business—how long they did it, did they do home child care before or taught, what they love about it, how they got into it)-->Issues (what are challenges they face at work, given unlimited funds what would they do)-->Agitation (state budget crisis, loss of funding)-->Polarization (elected officials who don’t know what owners need, not prioritizing the education of our children, systemic inequalities)-->Vision (what would the response be if thousands of childcare owners, workers, and parents rallied together in Springfield, how could care be improved if we won more funding for the program)-->Commitment (sign up for Alliance/Union).
Since the initial conversation is so pivotal, there is an abundance of active listening going on. While watching Ann, I thought that I would never be able to retain all the information (we want to know stats on enrollment, # of teachers, turnover rate, funding sources, etc.) but paying close attention works well. I think having intention on being present is extremely helpful.
Friday, December 11, 2009
October... in bullet points.
Ack. It is most definitely not October. October came and went with frigid temperatures and rainy days. November perked things up again with sunny mornings, 60 degree afternoons, and blackening skies by 5. Now we're into December, which has made her appearance as ostentatious as possible through the sub-zero windchill and violent winds straining our plasticized windows. The past 2.5 months have been eventful, which perhaps I may attribute my long absence to. Lets recap and perhaps I won't feel guilty and inhibited to write.
- We decided to move forward with a health needs assessment at LAC. A local hospital has completed one already but wouldn't give it to us until 2 weeks before our next hospital summit which was not adequate time for our side to analyze the local need. We decided to perform our own. It will likely take 6 mo-1 year but will hopefully be more accurate than the hospital's version and better represent unmeasured health discrepancies in the community. Hannah has taken on interns from Northeastern Illinois University to do some surveying. I think she likes the authority. I don't blame her.
- I attended my first Environmental Justice Task Force (EJTF) meeting. I wasn't caught up on most of the information. This is remedied (see subsequent bullets).
- I went to a CEDA workshop to learn all about how landlords of +66% low-income buildings can get weatherization projects funded. I got a name tag and a packet of information. It felt professional.
- I have experienced Turtle Racing--a unique bar activity to facilitate conversation amongst the tipsy hipster patrons of Big Joe's bar. You get raffle tickets based on the price of your drinks. Six turtles (yes, live) are assigned to customers based on raffle drawing. They are placed in the middle of a large table under a glass dome--think a fancy cake cover. The table has a small green circle in the middle, a large white circle around that, and a green perimeter. After an obnoxious recording of a horse-race start-up, the dome is lifted and the turtles are allowed to run, or slowly drag themselves towards the perimeter. The assigned person of the turtle who makes it to the outer green first wins a T-shirt. The loser of the slowest turtle out wins a free drink. Everyone makes bets with their friends and screams at the turtles until the race is over. Surprisingly, the small ones are quicker than the old big turtle. I made friends here. They are not animal activists.
- Simchat Torah! We went schul-hopping. We started at Anshe Shalom, but got bored because the liquor was out in the sukkah. I mentioned already that it was cold. We trotted down the block to Anshe Emet and were delighted to find a spread of liquor, shot glasses, beer, mixers, and snacks (!). We partook, and giggled through the last 5 minutes of the service. Then we rejoined Anshe Shalom for free ice cream. Yum.
- My parents visited. I enjoyed it. We went to Frontera Grill and I saw Rick Bayless at the host stand. I stared gape-eyed. Then I drank a bloody mary and ate guacamole. Yum.
- We had our healthcare community forum to promote the approval of the Healthcare Access Protection Initiative (HAPI) Ordinance. This ensures that hospitals provide a minimum of 4.5% free care for uninsured, low-income individuals. And they have to publicize it. As Martha Stewart would say, it's a good thing.
- I attended the Showdown in Chicago. We protested the American Banker's Association convention. I got a t-shirt and a button and carried a sign and yelled a lot. It was the largest protest I attended (~5,000 people on day 3), and the energy was incredible. I haven't heard much on subsequent actions, so the actual effectiveness of the showdown is still in question in my mind, but perhaps more important people than me (I know, they are few and far between) are negotiating with bankers and congresspeople about more stringent regulation.
- I started a month-long cleanse with Becca. I removed gluten, dairy, soy, sugar, caffeine, and alcohol from my diet. I felt amazing and would highly recommend it. The only downside was not drinking on Halloween.
- I attended critical mass for the first time. It was the Halloween edition, complete with bikers in costumes, bikes in costumes, and spooky music. It was so liberating riding through the middle of downtown streets without the hyper-awareness that comes with biking amongst thousands of reckless cabs, buses, and commuters. The next night was Halloween which was celebrated with Avodahniks at the Halsted/Boystown parade (essentially gay pride parade with better costumes than usual). Then we party hopped until we ended up at a completely random house party we happened to walk past. I was a 50s bombshell of sorts. Bettie Page but fully clothed.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
You Can Go Home Again...
Wow, October 1st has arrived quickly. I made it a solid 4 weeks before being tempted home. I don't know if this makes me a homebody or unadventurous or just plain sad. But I went home. I gave up on the weekend, conceeded defeat to the tyrany of emotions that were pulling me back to Minneapolis and relinquished the opportunity to build an Atonement tradition with my housemates. Ah, well, what's done is done and I don't regret the expense or 4am wake up call to visit what I missed.
Interestingly, and in retrospect unsurprisingly, I had great anxiety anticipating my trip home that was completely unrealized through the actual experience. Sound familiar? I don't consider myself a worrisome person, yet these changes get me down in theory rather than application. Chicago was a major stressor for the two weeks prior to my departure, yet the experience I've had here has been mostly positive. Likewise, the notion of going home provoked a great amount of otherwise hidden anxiety. I decided that was the week to decide what I needed to do with my life, where I needed to go to school, what programs I needed to choose, when I needed to apply/take the GREs/beg for recommendations. This was a thoroughly unpleasant experience.
Midway through the week I called my mom to tell her that I was stressed and that I was going to be poor (this based on information learned from one of my housemates on what her coworkers earn). I chastised her for the expectations she created for me through the privilege I experienced growing up. It seems so intimidating to try and provide a middle class experience for oneself when jobs of interest (i.e. jobs that allow me to give a shit about other people) are barely sustainable. But this seems like another post altogether. (stay tuned for more ranting and raving I guess)
Anyway, home. It seemed the same. Of course, my room looked different. Julianna had painted and fancified and created an estrous environment in my previously chillaxed blue bohemian nest. It looked pretty and she now has an appropiately adult bed rather than my back-knotting futon. At my parents', my mom had moved my things into my sister's room and vice versa. It was manageable and I have begun to feel more comfortable back in the freshmanic twin sized beds of my sister's room...and my current room in Chicago. The people were the same though, still ploughing through schoolwork and running to student group meetings and part-time jobs. The parties were the same. Dirty, drunk, reeking of spilled Milwaukee's Best. I recollect enjoying this experience at one point in the not-so-distant past. I wasn't feeling it this weekend though.
I think perhaps, gasp, I may have changed. Not very much, but enough to create a disconnect between how I used to live in Minneapolis and how I wanted to stay when I visited for the weekend. I'm happy I went and I still love the same people (and pets) and enjoy talking with the same friends, and of course I still appreciate the same foods from my favorite restaurants. I suspect that having been given the opportunity to meet an entirely new group of people and create the identity that I wish to project (of course while being honest to my personality and interests) I have tweaked enough of my activities and motivations that it doesn't quite fit with the expectations I had from my past.
I think the future freak-out I experienced earlier in the week was a recognition that this dissonance might happen. It did, but like all things I anticipate, it wasn't so bad. I holed up in the least distracting corner of the parties to talk with the people I wanted to most interact with. I made time to honor my desire for personal religious practice. I shared enough familiar experiences intermixed with enough new experiences (Julianna's nose ring!) that a contented medium was reached.
I have the opportunity in a few weeks to show my family, when they visit, the life that I have begun to aquaint myself with here. I'm excited to do so and I hope it doesn't freak them out too much to see these nuanced diversions in interest and intention.
Interestingly, and in retrospect unsurprisingly, I had great anxiety anticipating my trip home that was completely unrealized through the actual experience. Sound familiar? I don't consider myself a worrisome person, yet these changes get me down in theory rather than application. Chicago was a major stressor for the two weeks prior to my departure, yet the experience I've had here has been mostly positive. Likewise, the notion of going home provoked a great amount of otherwise hidden anxiety. I decided that was the week to decide what I needed to do with my life, where I needed to go to school, what programs I needed to choose, when I needed to apply/take the GREs/beg for recommendations. This was a thoroughly unpleasant experience.
Midway through the week I called my mom to tell her that I was stressed and that I was going to be poor (this based on information learned from one of my housemates on what her coworkers earn). I chastised her for the expectations she created for me through the privilege I experienced growing up. It seems so intimidating to try and provide a middle class experience for oneself when jobs of interest (i.e. jobs that allow me to give a shit about other people) are barely sustainable. But this seems like another post altogether. (stay tuned for more ranting and raving I guess)
Anyway, home. It seemed the same. Of course, my room looked different. Julianna had painted and fancified and created an estrous environment in my previously chillaxed blue bohemian nest. It looked pretty and she now has an appropiately adult bed rather than my back-knotting futon. At my parents', my mom had moved my things into my sister's room and vice versa. It was manageable and I have begun to feel more comfortable back in the freshmanic twin sized beds of my sister's room...and my current room in Chicago. The people were the same though, still ploughing through schoolwork and running to student group meetings and part-time jobs. The parties were the same. Dirty, drunk, reeking of spilled Milwaukee's Best. I recollect enjoying this experience at one point in the not-so-distant past. I wasn't feeling it this weekend though.
I think perhaps, gasp, I may have changed. Not very much, but enough to create a disconnect between how I used to live in Minneapolis and how I wanted to stay when I visited for the weekend. I'm happy I went and I still love the same people (and pets) and enjoy talking with the same friends, and of course I still appreciate the same foods from my favorite restaurants. I suspect that having been given the opportunity to meet an entirely new group of people and create the identity that I wish to project (of course while being honest to my personality and interests) I have tweaked enough of my activities and motivations that it doesn't quite fit with the expectations I had from my past.
I think the future freak-out I experienced earlier in the week was a recognition that this dissonance might happen. It did, but like all things I anticipate, it wasn't so bad. I holed up in the least distracting corner of the parties to talk with the people I wanted to most interact with. I made time to honor my desire for personal religious practice. I shared enough familiar experiences intermixed with enough new experiences (Julianna's nose ring!) that a contented medium was reached.
I have the opportunity in a few weeks to show my family, when they visit, the life that I have begun to aquaint myself with here. I'm excited to do so and I hope it doesn't freak them out too much to see these nuanced diversions in interest and intention.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Happy New Year!
I had the lovliest time spending Rosh Hashanah with a few of my housemates at Yael's home. I realize what a comfort it is to be mothered. As independent as I consider myself and as much autonomy I have increasingly demanded from my parents, sometimes it's nice to give up and admit that I'm still a little kid who wants to come home, hug a conveniently located woman with a charmingly aged face, sigh, and then be given a cookie. This wasn't exactly my experience of the weekend, but it hit the mark nonetheless.
Yael's family lives about an hour outside the city. Our drive down was closer to 2 hours and peppered with stress-filled snaps about driving capabilities and the traffic. But we made it. Sort of. We arrived at services 1.5 hours late, so we were entertained only by the concluding melodies of the very operatic cantor. After, Yael's mom hurried us out (as quickly as one is able to be hurried out of a synagogue on Friday night) pressing that we were all so hungry!
We were treated that night, the following morning (thanks to our gracious hostess Yael!) and Saturday evening to a series of delectable dishes. Challah, salads, soups, fishes, meats, and desserts paraded past hands and across the table. Oh contentment. We decided to drive back Saturday night and miraculously made it home in only an hour.
Sunday, the lovely ladies at the other house invited us all over for yet another R.H. meal filled with sweet honeyed goodness. Again, everything was spectacularly presented and a treat for the mouth. Special thanks go out to whomever divined that a goat cheese and beet salad would be the best thing in the world. It was.
We walked, partially in the rain, to the marina for Tashlich. Becca V-H (to distinguish between the 3 Beccas in the program) had made what would have otherwise been 3 delicious and substantive challah loaves. Unfortuantely, the yeast was feeling particularly frisky and the dough fermented. Fortunately, this proffered the perfect bread to symbolically harbor our sins. We created a war zone between the ducks and geese, although I anticipate that the fermentation got them drunk enough to forget it all and become placid cohabitants of Montrose beach yet again.
Most of my thoughts while tossing the ladened bread into the water regarded my problems with judging others. I feel like I've been a pretty good girl--others may feel free to disagree--over the course of this past year. What I know is an issue that hampers how I act towards others is letting preconceived notions based on little merit weigh so heavily. I tend to make assumptions about who people are or where they came from or what their goals and values and morals are based on few encounters with those issues at hand. I think it's valuable that this year my work is to talk to people. I'm not just chatting about trivialities with those I run into, but I need to find out who people are, where they came from and what their goals, values, and morals are. I'm eager to let this year of intentional meetings evolve my current framework for getting to know others. I think it will be a great learning experience and I hope next fall, if I'm lucky enough to be near a body of water, I will not be throwing away judgmental behaviors but something else...there will always be something else.
Yael's family lives about an hour outside the city. Our drive down was closer to 2 hours and peppered with stress-filled snaps about driving capabilities and the traffic. But we made it. Sort of. We arrived at services 1.5 hours late, so we were entertained only by the concluding melodies of the very operatic cantor. After, Yael's mom hurried us out (as quickly as one is able to be hurried out of a synagogue on Friday night) pressing that we were all so hungry!
We were treated that night, the following morning (thanks to our gracious hostess Yael!) and Saturday evening to a series of delectable dishes. Challah, salads, soups, fishes, meats, and desserts paraded past hands and across the table. Oh contentment. We decided to drive back Saturday night and miraculously made it home in only an hour.
Sunday, the lovely ladies at the other house invited us all over for yet another R.H. meal filled with sweet honeyed goodness. Again, everything was spectacularly presented and a treat for the mouth. Special thanks go out to whomever divined that a goat cheese and beet salad would be the best thing in the world. It was.
We walked, partially in the rain, to the marina for Tashlich. Becca V-H (to distinguish between the 3 Beccas in the program) had made what would have otherwise been 3 delicious and substantive challah loaves. Unfortuantely, the yeast was feeling particularly frisky and the dough fermented. Fortunately, this proffered the perfect bread to symbolically harbor our sins. We created a war zone between the ducks and geese, although I anticipate that the fermentation got them drunk enough to forget it all and become placid cohabitants of Montrose beach yet again.
Most of my thoughts while tossing the ladened bread into the water regarded my problems with judging others. I feel like I've been a pretty good girl--others may feel free to disagree--over the course of this past year. What I know is an issue that hampers how I act towards others is letting preconceived notions based on little merit weigh so heavily. I tend to make assumptions about who people are or where they came from or what their goals and values and morals are based on few encounters with those issues at hand. I think it's valuable that this year my work is to talk to people. I'm not just chatting about trivialities with those I run into, but I need to find out who people are, where they came from and what their goals, values, and morals are. I'm eager to let this year of intentional meetings evolve my current framework for getting to know others. I think it will be a great learning experience and I hope next fall, if I'm lucky enough to be near a body of water, I will not be throwing away judgmental behaviors but something else...there will always be something else.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Minneapolis is still the best because...
I am tired, slightly hungover, and a bit crabby, so I thought it would be the perfect time to write down some of the utterly stupid things about the city that I otherwise thoroughly enjoy. This will expand over time I imagine.
1. There is no logic to the timing of the walk/don't walk signs on stoplights in relation to when the actual light turns yellow or red. Rather, some lights still afford me enough time to cross after blinking. Others place me in the middle of the intersection if I start even after the walk has just turned to don't walk. This is stupid and dangerous.
2. There is no lapse time between when one light turns red and when the perpendicular avenue's light turns green. This is dangerous for walking (see point 1). This also is illogical because people come barreling through red lights when your lane has been green for a good 3 seconds. This is stupid and dangerous as well.
3. There are diagonal streets running through the city that create what can only be described as a clusterfuck of lanes at points where they intersect with nice, normal E/W and N/S streets. It is confusing to decide which light is yours and people can be turning left one of three different ways at the same time that another lane is going straight. How does this madness occur? Because these intersections are under the jurisdiction of the previously scorned stoplights. This is stupid and absolutely terrifying to witness and survive while on bicycle.
4. The street signs identifying diagonal intersections are useless and confusing. When one road cuts diagonally through the intersection, two of the three streets will have signs on them with labels of two streets each. Did what I write make sense? Probably not. It doesn't in real life either. So lets say I'm heading south on Damen Ave and there is an E/W intersection with Irving Park Rd and Lincoln Ave cuts through diagonally. The signs marking Lincoln Ave will read "Lincoln Ave" (as it should) but then immediately below (or above) in identical print it will also read "Irving Park Rd". And on the Irving Park street sign, it will also list Lincoln Ave even though that street is not in fact Lincoln Ave. It is Irving Park. It should only read Irving Park. Lincoln Ave should only be identified by it's own name and not the names of the streets immediately surrounding it. This is not only stupid but completely idiotic and I intentionally avoid making turns at diagonal intersections because of this. So I guess it's inconvenient too.
More to come...
5. After a particularly frustrating afternoon making my way through downtown, I have another complaint. There is no continuity of the bikepath into the downtown Chicago area. I understand that Minneapolis is no better, but at least we don't have three layers of streets stacked on top of each other. Finding your way to a nearby bike-safe route is so involved that I need to consider where I am in terms of up/down in addition to the usual (and may I add sane and normal) side-to-side and back/forth directions. I went up and down a total of five levels before I ended up moving on the right streets to get me to the right place where I could go back down another street level to the bikepath by the lake. Also, none of this is designated on the $%*#ing bike path maps. This is stupid.
1. There is no logic to the timing of the walk/don't walk signs on stoplights in relation to when the actual light turns yellow or red. Rather, some lights still afford me enough time to cross after blinking. Others place me in the middle of the intersection if I start even after the walk has just turned to don't walk. This is stupid and dangerous.
2. There is no lapse time between when one light turns red and when the perpendicular avenue's light turns green. This is dangerous for walking (see point 1). This also is illogical because people come barreling through red lights when your lane has been green for a good 3 seconds. This is stupid and dangerous as well.
3. There are diagonal streets running through the city that create what can only be described as a clusterfuck of lanes at points where they intersect with nice, normal E/W and N/S streets. It is confusing to decide which light is yours and people can be turning left one of three different ways at the same time that another lane is going straight. How does this madness occur? Because these intersections are under the jurisdiction of the previously scorned stoplights. This is stupid and absolutely terrifying to witness and survive while on bicycle.
4. The street signs identifying diagonal intersections are useless and confusing. When one road cuts diagonally through the intersection, two of the three streets will have signs on them with labels of two streets each. Did what I write make sense? Probably not. It doesn't in real life either. So lets say I'm heading south on Damen Ave and there is an E/W intersection with Irving Park Rd and Lincoln Ave cuts through diagonally. The signs marking Lincoln Ave will read "Lincoln Ave" (as it should) but then immediately below (or above) in identical print it will also read "Irving Park Rd". And on the Irving Park street sign, it will also list Lincoln Ave even though that street is not in fact Lincoln Ave. It is Irving Park. It should only read Irving Park. Lincoln Ave should only be identified by it's own name and not the names of the streets immediately surrounding it. This is not only stupid but completely idiotic and I intentionally avoid making turns at diagonal intersections because of this. So I guess it's inconvenient too.
More to come...
5. After a particularly frustrating afternoon making my way through downtown, I have another complaint. There is no continuity of the bikepath into the downtown Chicago area. I understand that Minneapolis is no better, but at least we don't have three layers of streets stacked on top of each other. Finding your way to a nearby bike-safe route is so involved that I need to consider where I am in terms of up/down in addition to the usual (and may I add sane and normal) side-to-side and back/forth directions. I went up and down a total of five levels before I ended up moving on the right streets to get me to the right place where I could go back down another street level to the bikepath by the lake. Also, none of this is designated on the $%*#ing bike path maps. This is stupid.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Working girl
I am up at the wee hour of 10pm typing away as quietly as possible because my darling roommate is fast asleep. Hopefully I will be soon too. I guess we'll both see at the end of this. This was day 3 of my organizing experience and I don't think I've been so ready to go to bed so early as I have this week. I will attempt to rehash the past few days, but it's blurred past (although at the time, occasionally excruciatingly slow<--ooh! cruciatus curse comes from excruciating; I'm a geek...)
Tuesday
I met Mary and Hannah, the two lovely organizers that LAC currently employs. Hannah held my position as AVODAH organizer up until the beginning of August, but was offered a temporary staff position once the program ended. She asked me a series of increasingly personal questions which resulted in the determination that I am sleeping in her old bed (in her old room) which was also the old bed (and room) of the AVODAH organizer the year before Hannah. I think we must have some well developed organizer 6th sense to scout out the best rooms in the house. I'm visiting Hannah's new home tomorrow so I'll have to test my supernatural abilities then.
More relevantly, my day started with a very brief encounter with Jennifer, my boss. She had a meeting half an hour later, so that was barely enough time to hand me a stack of papers to read and send me over to uncover my desk. I was fortunate enough to have a nasty grime covering the top of my desk as well as a precipitously dangling lightbulb hanging out of my lamp. This offered me the opportunity to take out much of my anxiety and fear of the new day on the surface of the desk. It is now spotless. I fixed my lamp too which made me feel rather clever, although I think it was simpler than I'd like to admit. I now am the proud owner...renter, I guess...of a large desk in front of two long narrow windows facing the el. I quickly learned how to hold a phone conversation as if a large metro train is not rumbling past fewer than 15 feet from my seat.
So I read about LAC and the past two newsletters (which I get to design next week!) and who the members are and what the issues are that we are currently employed to change. And then Mary and Hannah took me to lunch at a yummy Thai restaurant down the block. It was a very gracious welcoming and I was relieved to find both of them so personable...which makes sense when their jobs entail interacting with people all day.
After lunch I made some phone calls to remind members of an upcoming meeting. Then there was more reading to do...this time the particulars of organizing. And then around 5:30 when I was developing a headache it was time for Hannah and me to bike to a nearby neighborhood association for a health care coalition meeting. The meeting was a blur sans the Giordano's pizza. Then, after a 5.5 mile bike ride home, I arrived at 9pm...my first 11.5 hour workday.
Oh dear, this is long and it's getting late, so I'll hurry it up for both of our sakes.
Wednesday
I met Linda and Jim, two more employees at the office. Linda spent much of the morning setting up my phone and e-mail. I now am a legitimate and contactable employee and feel significantly more like a grownup. We had our first staff meeting, and remarkably I was able to contribute little parcels of what I had remembered from the healthcare coalition meeting the night before. The rest of the day was spent alternately putzing around and reading more about LACs work and how to effectively organize.
Thursday
Today was another long day. Jennifer asked me to come in at 9 so I could listen in on a meeting she was having over environmental justice (one of our 4 main issues). When I arrived at the office, it turned out that the meeting had been canceled, so I was left with another glorious hour to fill with self-instigated projects. I read more. I called the board members to remind them of other meetings. I called board members to set up relational meetings with me. I set up my calendar because listing dates haphazardly in my notebook was not cutting it. I realized that I had overlapped appointments. I called back board members to cancel said overlapping appointments. Then, my to do list ended. So I updated my facebook information. I checked up on my feministing.org site (generally fantastic). I created unnecessary spreadsheets of contact information we already have just so I could have it immediately and have something to work on and look at. I am bored.
Hannah and Mary have both explained to me that boredom is a normal and necessary part of initial organizing. If you are a true and focused organizer, you are creating relationships with people. When you have trusting relationships, you build coalitions between like-minded people and groups who might otherwise not meet. If you know no one, this is difficult to achieve. So, I am slowly, oh-so-slowly building my menagerie of folks and friends and other people who are good to meet and know. I made a number of appointments and I am excited to have all these 1 to 1s (as they are called in organizer jargon)...but they are next week. And next week is not now and now I am bored. So I was thrilled when 6:30 rolled around and it was time for Mary and me to meet up with Jennifer and Hannah and about 20 other local organization members for the bimonthly Community Council meeting.
It was like most meetings. Some people talk frequently and to excess. This is probably because they like the sound of their voice and how their ideas are clearly articulated better (and are inherently better) than everyone else. Oh well. I learned a great deal about who was working specifically on which issues (I should probably mention what they are: Access to healthcare, affordable housing, youth homelessness, and environmental justice). I was also glad to put a face to so many names I had heard at the office. And again, I came home around 9.
I am exhausted but slightly less overwhelmed than yesterday. I no longer am clawing at the door so I can escape and run all the way home. I anticipate that some parts of the job will get easier--I won't feel bored and I'll be a productive member of this little society. But I will get busier and busier and I'm going to have to learn when to say enough. Right now I'm at enou, so I think I'm still good.
Tuesday
I met Mary and Hannah, the two lovely organizers that LAC currently employs. Hannah held my position as AVODAH organizer up until the beginning of August, but was offered a temporary staff position once the program ended. She asked me a series of increasingly personal questions which resulted in the determination that I am sleeping in her old bed (in her old room) which was also the old bed (and room) of the AVODAH organizer the year before Hannah. I think we must have some well developed organizer 6th sense to scout out the best rooms in the house. I'm visiting Hannah's new home tomorrow so I'll have to test my supernatural abilities then.
More relevantly, my day started with a very brief encounter with Jennifer, my boss. She had a meeting half an hour later, so that was barely enough time to hand me a stack of papers to read and send me over to uncover my desk. I was fortunate enough to have a nasty grime covering the top of my desk as well as a precipitously dangling lightbulb hanging out of my lamp. This offered me the opportunity to take out much of my anxiety and fear of the new day on the surface of the desk. It is now spotless. I fixed my lamp too which made me feel rather clever, although I think it was simpler than I'd like to admit. I now am the proud owner...renter, I guess...of a large desk in front of two long narrow windows facing the el. I quickly learned how to hold a phone conversation as if a large metro train is not rumbling past fewer than 15 feet from my seat.
So I read about LAC and the past two newsletters (which I get to design next week!) and who the members are and what the issues are that we are currently employed to change. And then Mary and Hannah took me to lunch at a yummy Thai restaurant down the block. It was a very gracious welcoming and I was relieved to find both of them so personable...which makes sense when their jobs entail interacting with people all day.
After lunch I made some phone calls to remind members of an upcoming meeting. Then there was more reading to do...this time the particulars of organizing. And then around 5:30 when I was developing a headache it was time for Hannah and me to bike to a nearby neighborhood association for a health care coalition meeting. The meeting was a blur sans the Giordano's pizza. Then, after a 5.5 mile bike ride home, I arrived at 9pm...my first 11.5 hour workday.
Oh dear, this is long and it's getting late, so I'll hurry it up for both of our sakes.
Wednesday
I met Linda and Jim, two more employees at the office. Linda spent much of the morning setting up my phone and e-mail. I now am a legitimate and contactable employee and feel significantly more like a grownup. We had our first staff meeting, and remarkably I was able to contribute little parcels of what I had remembered from the healthcare coalition meeting the night before. The rest of the day was spent alternately putzing around and reading more about LACs work and how to effectively organize.
Thursday
Today was another long day. Jennifer asked me to come in at 9 so I could listen in on a meeting she was having over environmental justice (one of our 4 main issues). When I arrived at the office, it turned out that the meeting had been canceled, so I was left with another glorious hour to fill with self-instigated projects. I read more. I called the board members to remind them of other meetings. I called board members to set up relational meetings with me. I set up my calendar because listing dates haphazardly in my notebook was not cutting it. I realized that I had overlapped appointments. I called back board members to cancel said overlapping appointments. Then, my to do list ended. So I updated my facebook information. I checked up on my feministing.org site (generally fantastic). I created unnecessary spreadsheets of contact information we already have just so I could have it immediately and have something to work on and look at. I am bored.
Hannah and Mary have both explained to me that boredom is a normal and necessary part of initial organizing. If you are a true and focused organizer, you are creating relationships with people. When you have trusting relationships, you build coalitions between like-minded people and groups who might otherwise not meet. If you know no one, this is difficult to achieve. So, I am slowly, oh-so-slowly building my menagerie of folks and friends and other people who are good to meet and know. I made a number of appointments and I am excited to have all these 1 to 1s (as they are called in organizer jargon)...but they are next week. And next week is not now and now I am bored. So I was thrilled when 6:30 rolled around and it was time for Mary and me to meet up with Jennifer and Hannah and about 20 other local organization members for the bimonthly Community Council meeting.
It was like most meetings. Some people talk frequently and to excess. This is probably because they like the sound of their voice and how their ideas are clearly articulated better (and are inherently better) than everyone else. Oh well. I learned a great deal about who was working specifically on which issues (I should probably mention what they are: Access to healthcare, affordable housing, youth homelessness, and environmental justice). I was also glad to put a face to so many names I had heard at the office. And again, I came home around 9.
I am exhausted but slightly less overwhelmed than yesterday. I no longer am clawing at the door so I can escape and run all the way home. I anticipate that some parts of the job will get easier--I won't feel bored and I'll be a productive member of this little society. But I will get busier and busier and I'm going to have to learn when to say enough. Right now I'm at enou, so I think I'm still good.
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