G.A. Minutes 4-11-15

G.A. Minutes 4-11-15
The early evening air is exceptionally pleasant as we arrive at the Clayton Jackson McGhie Memorial an hour or so before sunset.
Temperatures are still in the 60s, there’s no wind to speak of and we don’t even need our coats yet.
We set things up but don’t light the fire. We’ll wait until the entire space is shaded.
While the first arriving Occupiers are unloading chairs and such from the vehicles, a lone Occupier sits by the fire pit.
A group of youngish African American men and women walk by. They have small children in hand and smaller ones in strollers.
One of the men warily calls over to the lone Occupier, “So what do you think about all this?” He gesture towards the 3 metal sculptures on the wall. Sculptures of the 3 young African American men who were lynched on this corner in 1920.
The Occupier responds, “Well I think what happened to those innocent guys is pretty sad. However, I know that kind of thing happened in this country at least a gazillion times and as far as I know, this is the only memorial about lynching in the whole country. So in that respect, I think it’s pretty good”.
The young man smiles and says, “Thank you” and the group continues their walk.
As we take our seats the street man who makes wooden flutes comes to join us. We notice he seems a little wobbly. He says, “I’m a little drunk tonight but I’m o.k. I never get mean or stupid or anything”. He and an Occupier carry on a conversation about their gambling addictions.
The regular street woman who tells really good stories arrives. We haven’t seen her since last fall. She’s very smiley and happy as she tells us she’s just been diagnosed with breast cancer. “Are you gonna be here for the evening?” she asks. When we tell her yes she says, “I’ll come back and I’ll tell you a good story”.
The Memorial space is now completely shaded so we light the fire. We still don’t need our coats.
By now we’ve also been joined by a regular man who lives in the apartment building on the corner and a couple of regular middle aged Native women.
A young girl comes over and asks for apple juice. She is followed by a group of boys who are about 8 to 10 years old. They are carrying long sticks and baseball bats and they all go to sit on the back ledge.
Suddenly one of the Native women begins yelling at them. Some of the kids yell back. A boy runs up and hits our plastic garbage can with his bat.
The woman screams, “That’s it! I’m calling 911”. She pulls out her phone and begins talking. We think maybe she is just pretending to call.
The children go running up the hill. The woman runs after them.
The largest and probably oldest of the boys remains on the ledge. An Occupier walks over, sits beside the boy and they talk.
After a short while the children return. They come to our table and we offer them sandwiches, juice and oranges. One of the boys tells us, “That lady was trying to hit us and says she’s gonna call the cops”.
We’re confused by the whole thing. They seem like normal kids to us.
An Occupier reminds us about the benefit at the Red Herring tomorrow starting at noon. The benefit is for the people who lived in the Applewood Knoll apartment building that burned to the ground last week.
She also informs us another friend of ours had a serious fire in her private home just last night.
As usual, a large group of people suddenly arrive. Among them are an Occupier and her boyfriend. They bring a large crockpot of homemade vegetable stew and warm garlic bread. Everybody chows down.
Once their bellies are full most of the large crowd of people wander off.
The woman who also lives in the apartment building on the corner stops by to visit. She keeps an eye on CJM and regularly cleans the area. We’ve known her for years.
It’s the first time we’ve seen her this year. She looks much older and although it doesn’t seem possible, she appears to be even thinner.
We’re quite sure she doesn’t abuse substances so we wonder what is up.
She explains that someone has attempted to set her up and get her evicted from her apartment.
“I let some people into my apartment. They were well dressed and had good jobs and I thought they were nice. One of them hid some kind of pipe in my house when they left. The next day my landlord came in, found the pipe, told me it was drug paraphernalia and said I was gonna be evicted. He wanted me to sign a paper saying I accepted what he was saying.
“I told him it wasn’t mine, I had no idea how it got there and I wasn’t signing nothing”.
We begin offering advice but it seems the thin woman already has things under control. She comments, “I know what to do to defend myself but this is so stressful and it pisses me off”.
An Occupier states, “This is a perfect example of why we need to have the Housing Access Center again”. Another Occupier asks, “What did the Housing Access Center do?” The 1st Occupier replies, “It was a place where one could get information about all of the low income housing projects all at once in one place. It was also a place where landlords and tenants could meet with a moderator and work out their differences. Now days, about the only option landlords have is to evict”.
Another woman we have known for a few years sits down. As usual, she’s drunk. We’ve always thought she was quite beautiful but it seems her alcoholism is robbing her of her looks. She’s wearing a lot of makeup now.
Apparently, she’s recently fallen and cracked a rib. The hospitals won’t treat her because she’s always drunk. That makes no sense to us but we hear that same story from many.
The drunken woman has always seemed to have some sort of oppositional defiant disorder so we’ve given up trying to give advice. We just listen.
Eventually she catches the eye of a man who is probably not of the street and they walk off together.
The woman with the good stories returns but she’s very drunk now. She’s crying. She walks clockwise around the circle, blessing us all as is her custom and then sits down. Between sobs she says loudly, “I have breast cancer and they’re going to cut them off”.
An Occupier with experience in the medical field attempts to comfort the woman and explain that she may have other options.
The Occupier’s genuine concern appears to comfort the storyteller. She hugs the Occupier and stops crying.
A group of Native men, some of whom we know, join the circle. They can’t smudge because they’ve been drinking but they appreciate the smell of the burning sage.
The women who had chased the children earlier return. It seems all the men and women are related. They laugh and tease each other.
We all watch the fire turn to coals. Then it’s time to go.
Everyone wants to know when we’ll be back. We don’t have anything really pressing coming up in the next few days and the good weather promises to be around for a while.
We think we’ll be back on Tuesday.

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