2006/06/17
Saturday in da 'Cuse
If you head west on Onondaga Street from South Salina for about three-quarters of a mile, you'll see a good cross-section of the economically depressed near southwest side of the city. Stay straight onto Onondaga Ave. (rather than doing the dog-leg thing to stay on West Onondaga), and you'll start seeing larger structures. Right on Bellevue then a quick left onto Summit, suddenly, you're in Strathmore, which looks like a wealthy suburb with huge homes with huge yards and two SUVs in every driveway.
It's enough to make a boy on a bike with a "My bike hates your SUV" bumper sticker just a might bit uncomfortable.
The good people of Ruskin Avenue, however, close off their street and open up their porches once a year for Art on the Porches. There's music at each end of the street, and the lawns and porches are covered in art (and maybe a little food).
Thankfully, I didn't bring much money – enough, though, to grab a spring roll at Lao Village's stand (thanks, Angela, for that suggestion). I might have spent far too much money on hand-painted percussion instruments from John Heard, pen-and-ink sketches from biker John "Jaw's" McGrath, tile work from Loudeac, and hand-made journals from Concepcioun (though everyone knows now what they're getting for their birthdays and hanuchristmakwanzaa).
After an hour and a half at Art, I swung back downtown for a breve at Coffee Pavilion – thanks, Justin, for knowing what the heck it is, as it's not on the menu – and some quality time at Juneteenth.
And quality it was. A parade, a gospel choir, some note cards (it seems you just can't get decent blank cards anywhere anymore). And the best damn lemonade on the planet. Actually, if you're in town, you should stop reading this and get to Omanii's Lemonade Heaven at 1206 South Ave. right now. Why are you still here? Go!
I got to spend some time talking to the folks from the Eastern Farm Workers Association (I may have to donate a web page). They're pushing for fair wages and subsidized health care for mainly minority workers. I also spoke a bit with the 40 Below folks, who are pushing to keep young people here.
Condolences go out to Lyndell and Ember. Sorry we're going to have to miss you tonight – doubly so, considering the reason. We'll catch you Labor Day weekend.
It's enough to make a boy on a bike with a "My bike hates your SUV" bumper sticker just a might bit uncomfortable.
The good people of Ruskin Avenue, however, close off their street and open up their porches once a year for Art on the Porches. There's music at each end of the street, and the lawns and porches are covered in art (and maybe a little food).
Thankfully, I didn't bring much money – enough, though, to grab a spring roll at Lao Village's stand (thanks, Angela, for that suggestion). I might have spent far too much money on hand-painted percussion instruments from John Heard, pen-and-ink sketches from biker John "Jaw's" McGrath, tile work from Loudeac, and hand-made journals from Concepcioun (though everyone knows now what they're getting for their birthdays and hanuchristmakwanzaa).
After an hour and a half at Art, I swung back downtown for a breve at Coffee Pavilion – thanks, Justin, for knowing what the heck it is, as it's not on the menu – and some quality time at Juneteenth.
And quality it was. A parade, a gospel choir, some note cards (it seems you just can't get decent blank cards anywhere anymore). And the best damn lemonade on the planet. Actually, if you're in town, you should stop reading this and get to Omanii's Lemonade Heaven at 1206 South Ave. right now. Why are you still here? Go!
I got to spend some time talking to the folks from the Eastern Farm Workers Association (I may have to donate a web page). They're pushing for fair wages and subsidized health care for mainly minority workers. I also spoke a bit with the 40 Below folks, who are pushing to keep young people here.
Condolences go out to Lyndell and Ember. Sorry we're going to have to miss you tonight – doubly so, considering the reason. We'll catch you Labor Day weekend.
