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Posts in category Everyday Life
Community
We were invited to join the Trinity United Presbyterian group attending the Modesto Salvation Army Kettle Kickoff luncheon on Thursday. It’s been a busy few weeks – mainly due to the mammoth redesign effort on the church’s website that’s consumed nearly all our time lately – but we were honored to be invited. Kristi’s grandfather is chairman of the Modesto Salvation Army’s Advisory Board; volunteer philanthropy is a central value in her family. We very much enjoyed sitting with the TUPC folks and helping contribute a bit to this year’s record breaking $227,000 Kettle Kickoff tally.
I know I’ve mentioned this here before, but in the time I’ve lived in Modesto I’ve come to greatly appreciate the community we live in, and its stark contrast to the place that I called home for most of my life. Orlando is a big, busy place. It’s full of self-interested, self-involved people who conscientiously avoid making any investment in the place they live in – a town mainly defined by people who move there, take what they can while they can, and leave. And generally not for the better.
Of course I don’t mean to say that every Orlando resident is a petty, small minded child. A lot of really great people also live there. But what really is lacking there is a sense of community – any sense of community, whatsoever – and that feeds a pervasive culture of anonymity and indifference. The good people are left fighting the overwhelming trends. As our friend Em’s husband pointed out once, there’s an atmosphere of animalistic cruelty in the South and in Florida in particular; nobody really cares, and the result is a collective shoulder shrug that trades true civic pride for the promise of a free T-shirt and a cheap motel room. Welcome to Orlando, Florida.
The longer I’m away, the clearer the picture gets. I still read the Orlando Sentinel regularly and marvel that anyone still wants to live there. I find myself wondering more and more what would happen if the lifeblood of affordable tourist travel was strangled off. What would happen once denial wore thin and the people of Central Florida suddenly had nothing to rely upon but each other. How well that would work, long term. How clearly defined a town’s long term survival chances are, in tough times and without a strong community sense. I think about these things often.
As we’ve been working on the new Trinity United website, my role has been mainly technical. Doing some of the graphics, taking a lot of the photos around the church, handling the server installations, that sort of thing. Kristi has poured every ounce of spare time and energy into this project. I think it shows; the final product, now just a few days from launch, represents a quantum leap forward from their current web presence. The church will suddenly have communications options that they only dreamed of a month ago. I’m proud of that, I’m very proud of her, and I’m excited to see the website take off.
Most of all though, I’ve enjoyed getting to know the people and to be part of a collective group working towards real goals. A real community. I’ve taken photos at choir practices; recently I crashed the pastor’s adult ed study group to take photos. A couple weeks ago we helped out with the church’s annual chili cookoff. Last weekend we spent a day sorting clothing donations at the local homeless mission. Kristi and I have been in or around TUPC campus virtually every day for the last three weeks for one reason or another. I’ve really enjoyed contributing in a way that matters. It fills a hole that I accepted as part of normal life not long ago.
I suppose it’s probably hard to understand, unless you’ve lived in a place that values commercial expediency above all else. The simplicity of pitching in has a grounding effect, an inner anchor in troubled waters. It’s work to be proud of.
Thrift Store
So today we’re having another high wind day, which is driving the dog insane. The windows are open, and every time a strong gust blows in and bangs a bedroom door shut, he panics. Every time the wind blows something around outside, he panics. Sam’s on edge and has just been freaking the hell out all day today, which has been driving me mental.
Kristi’s up in Sacramento with her mom today to visit her sister and our niece, and I’m here at home with the animals trying to get some work done. A bit of client work, a lot of trying to finish up Kristi’s new travel writing portfolio. Not easy to do when the menagerie (particularly the 140lb part of it) is so wound up. So rather than barricade myself in the office, I closed the bedroom windows – cutting down on the door-bang-panic factor – grabbed the car keys and got out of the house for a while.
I’d been meaning to go visit the local thrift stores for a while now, just to check them out. And lately I’ve been in a project sort of mood. There’s a Hope Chest Thrift Store around the corner from us on McHenry Avenue, run by the local hospice center, and so I drove down there to browse a bit and take a needed breather from OHMYGODITSWINDYEVERYBODYPANIC.
Hope Chest is a really nice thrift, much better than the places I remember in Orlando and Tampa. I’m guessing that’s probably because there are many more older established families here than in Central Florida, and so the items you find include many more older pieces. Go into the average Tampa thrift, and you’ll mainly find a bunch of cheap garage sale junk from the 70s and 80s. Here, you’ll also find a light scattering of items dating back to the 40s and 50s.
They have an exceptional bookstore. I found a woodworking textbook from 1950, in good condition, on sale for a dollar and picked it up; they also had a pile of books on home maintenance, gardening, things like that. One encyclopedia of handy home projects, dated 1966, included complete instructions on building an “atomic fallout shelter”.
When I wasn’t rummaging through fifty-year-old books, I was scoping out items for spare part potential. Scrap brass, chrome, wood, machined elements, that sort of things. Plenty there, and you can sure buy project materials cheaper this way than as new and raw metal or wood that then has to be machined. Like I said, been in a mood lately.
In the end, I walked out with that woodworking book for a buck and a determination to come back for more later.
First Time’s Always Special
“Bored. I want to shoot stuff.”
“We have a library of games, babe. In almost two years, you’ve never played anything but GTA4. So let’s shake things up with a first person shooter.”
“Those things make me nauseous.”
“Only because you’re not in control when I play. It’s like driving – you don’t get carsick if you’re the one driving.”
“Hmm.. o-kay. So which one should I start with?”
“We have a library. Half Life? HL2? Deus Ex? Red Faction? Dead Space? Fallout 3?”
“NOT PORTAL. That game makes me crazy.”
“You don’t have to play Portal, babe.”
Picks up a PS3 game case sitting atop the TV, flips it over. “Hmmm.. okay, let’s try Bioshock.”
.. eight hours later ..
“Is that a camera? I hate those cameras.. hey, who’s shooting me? TAKE THAT – ohcrapimoutofammo WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?? OHMYGOD THAT THINGS COMING AFTER ME! Do I shoot it OH CRAP I SHOT IT AND NOW ITS MAD. RUNNN!!
“Hey. It’s dark outside!”