What I Saw Riding My Bike Around Today

Abandoned Fleece Scarf at 27th & St. Paul

Kate — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 02:54:56 +0000

Ok, something’s really wrong here. It’s February 1, and I went out in a flimsy dress and a light sweater and was plenty warm. I had a good day of self-care, car-care, and lounging before it was time to take the bike to the coffee shoppe to get back to work. I wrote some words, read some stuff for class, and organized students into small groups, not of their choosing, and then it was time to get back on the bike and head back up the hill to home. And I was still plenty warm. I pedaled home, eyes darting between the road and the cars coming up behind me, and I passed so many lost items–a mitten, a shoe, a latex glove (I’m guessing nobody wants that back), pennies, and then this scarf, right in the middle of the street on 27th. How did its owner not notice it was gone? Is it so warm we can’t tell when our clothes are falling off of us? And then I thought about the lost and found clothes in my life. I hope whomever picked up my lacy off-white scarf, the one I got at the H&M in New York with PK that Thanksgiving, from the Sondheim 103 is enjoying it now. And to the guy who left track jacket in my classroom at Tulane a couple of years ago? Yep, still wearing it. Oh, and to the summer school student who left the light black cardigan sweater in my classroom for two weeks before I gave in and took it home: you might mind the fraying around the collar, but I don’t. Nobody can even see it. Can they? Pink’s not my color and it’s practically spring around here, so I left the scarf for someone else. I bet it finds a home somewhere.

Sunset Over Druid Hill Park From the Reservoir

Kate — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 23:13:15 +0000

Some days the bike ride really does feel like a hamster wheel, and today was one of those, which is exactly what I wanted. I woke up with the sense that something wasn’t right, couldn’t shake it through reading, meetings, emailing, or writing, so at the end of the day, I put on my bike shoes and took my bike to the reservoir to do laps, one after another, listening to a song or two on repeat. I wanted to make it home before dark, having foolishly left my reflective safety gear in that pile of crap on that one chair in the living room, so I pedaled as fast as I could, chasing the sunset as the sun dipped a little lower and the sky changed shades with each lap. I passed the same people over and over–the couple on the bench at the 3/4 turn, the couple doing their own laps with a penchant for playful punching, the guy setting up some kind of elaborate photo of the sky that will surely be better than mine, those two women talking under the trees on the homestretch who gave me the how-you-doing nod every time I passed them, the man with the two kids hanging all over the pull-up bars by the drinking fountain, the woman on her cell phone, the woman listening to her ipod, and the other woman listening to her ipod–and the whole mess of us, doing our laps, somehow made me feel better. Days are getting longer and longer, and even though it feels like winter hasn’t started yet, I can’t wait for spring. Around the corner, right? I zipped down the hill to home as the sun snuffed itself out, grateful, as always, for the bicycle.

Blighted Building in Carroll Park in Pigtown

Kate — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 00:05:46 +0000

Oh, it was a beautiful day for a bike ride, so after a morning reading in bed with cats, I hopped on the bike and whizzed down the hill to meet J. and J. for lunch. We wandered from their hotel to the Inner Harbor, passing all the other conventioneers, before settling in for turkey burgers and side salads and fries. It was so good to catch up with an old friend–just what I needed. It was still warm out at the end of the afternoon, so I took my bike on a ride past Camden Yards, into Pigtown and Washington Heights, and then along the Gwynns Falls Trail. I did a turn around Carroll Park, stopping to take a picture of this blighted building in the middle of it. How does the city let this kind of run down place stay in the middle of a large greenspace at the south end of the city? The park has lots of basketball courts, a football field, picnic tables, a skate park…so why this? I continued my ride up the hill to the Mt. Clare House and read the historical signage. This park used to be a plantation where slaves, white indentured servants, and white wage laborers worked for the iron industry. Then it was a staging and training area for Union soldiers in the Civil War. Now it’s a park, parts of which are looking sharp, other parts still in disarray. I wonder what its lives were in between. I continued my ride, following the signs, past Ravens Stadium, the place that sells compressors, power plants, the place where your trash goes before it goes somewhere else, the light rail station, and then back again to the harbor and up the hill to home. What a perfect day. Too bad in ended with the start of a headache–best sit down, stretch, and drink some water. Word is, tomorrow just might be beautiful too.

Closed Pharmacy at 36th & Chestnut

Kate — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 01:20:55 +0000

Oh, I wanted to ride my bike so badly today. I haven’t ridden since *Tuesday*, and when I don’t ride, the hamster wheel starts going in my head instead, and then I can’t sleep. It was nice and warm out today, but the wind was howling, and that’s just not weather I like to ride in. In which I like to ride. (See what I mean? Hamster. Wheel.) Sigh. So I decided to walk instead, and that was an excellent choice. I walked up to Hampden for a haircut and some reading at the coffee shoppe, and I found myself, surprise, surprise, taking the exact same route I do on my bike. The thing with walking, though, is that it’s much slower than riding, which is much of why I ride, but the bonus is that slowing down means seeing things on that same old route that you miss on a bike, like the waterfalls down under that bridge on Remington and the piles of sawdust on the sidewalk and the sign on the closed pharmacy on Chestnut and 36th. If you liked what they were doing at this location, you’re going to love what’s happening at the CVS. Somehow I don’t think the patrons of Chestnut Pharmacy, here since at least 1918, spent any time at all wishing it was a CVS, but what do I know. This neighborhood is pocked with closed stores, and it’s one of the most happening parts of town. It’s a sad business. I got myself shorn and read and then wandered back home, holding my skirt down in the wind and enjoying the 60+ degrees. Something’s not right here, is it?

Matthew 27:28;35 at Gilmor & Saratoga

Kate — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:47:19 +0000

Oh, Baltimore, thank you for the balmy Tuesday in late January! I had already been despairing that I might be freezing from now until May, but today’s sunshine and 50+ degrees was a welcome respite. I layered up, just in case, and took the bike down the hill and west toward UMBC. I wanted to see something new, so I took a left on Gilmor instead of taking Lafayette all the way to Monroe. Well, I saw a lot of the same thing I’ve seen on many West Baltimore streets–row upon row of vacant houses, empty lots, corner stores, and churches–but then there was this, at Saratoga, three crosses bearing Bible verses I didn’t have the patience to read, a sign warning folks not to walk their dogs here, and what seemed to be an empty RV. I wonder who set up this particular church–perhaps the folks at the adjacent Greater Harvest Baptist Church? Well, I guess that’s *one* thing to do with blighted space. I didn’t stay long, not in the mood to be saved, and continued on my way, flying down one hill and climbing up another before making it to campus in time to choke down a quick lunch before class and a long ride home. Traffic’s a lot worse going home, but today I just steeled myself to take the lane. When you ride right over to the edge cars think they can just sneak past you, and that is terrifying. Take the lane, and they go around, irritated or not. I made it back to my neighborhood in good time, before the sun went down. The days really are getting longer; before I rode a bike every day, I don’t think I noticed what a difference a few minutes of daylight make.

Icy Bike Rack at 32nd & Greenmount

Kate — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 01:29:43 +0000

Yep, still cold and icy, so when it was time to meet L. for brunch, I decided to go ahead and walk. I put on my snow boots, lovingly sent by by E. upon my arrival in the Great White Mid-Atlantic, and marched slowly up the hill. The ice is just worse, so where it was still coating the sidewalk, I took each step like a New Orleanian until I made it to my destination. I stared longingly at this icy bike rack and snapped this picture, already thinking about springtime. After breakfast I waddled home and thought about all the wonderful things I might see by walking in wintertime. Yeah, it’ll be ok. But when I heard S. was at the bar watching the game? Well, then I was in a hurry. I hopped on the bike, rode over to Remington, drank some light beer, ate some potato skins, cheered, felt sick to my stomach, and sat in the utter silence of a bar full of stunned fans. Season: over. I got back on the bike and rolled home, extra careful–drunk drivers on the roads! No matter how you’re getting around, look alive!

Snow and Ice on the Sidewalk on Chase & St. Paul

Kate — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 00:52:53 +0000

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, this thing where water would fall out of the sky on a day so cold it would freeze, so here you go: ice. It looked pretty this morning, but it made for a slooow walk home from brunch as I measured each step to avoid slipping and bouncing off the sidewalk like the newbie I am. I spent the day at home writing up a syllabus and watching terrible movies, but I’ve got a dinner date in Mt. Vernon, so it’s time to get on the bike. Because it’s new to me it felt treacherous as I white-knuckled my way down the hill, taking the whole lane to avoid even the faint touch of visible ice. But what about the ice you can’t see, Kate? I got off and walked the last block to the restaurant. I figure, though, that it’ll be like anything else new–I’ll do it for awhile, get more comfortable, fall, realize falling won’t kill me, and then I will just be somebody who rides in wintertime. Or not. Maybe I’ll take the bus.

Steiff Silver Factory Building at Pacific & Keswick

Kate — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 00:22:28 +0000

Today’s bike ride found me in a whole bunch of layers–thanks again, wool!–and rolling up the hill to Druid Hill Park for some laps around the reservoir. A lot of the time I want traffic and all the thinking that goes along with it, but I’ve had a long week, and I have a long weekend ahead of me, so I just wanted some mindless circles. I stopped to take a picture at the top of the hill of the old Steiff Silver plant that’s now apartments, I think, and this AVAILABLE sign, though I’m not exactly sure what’s available, though maybe it’s the building itself. As I passed it I thought about a talk by Ruthie Gilmore that I showed my students in class this past week, about how the world we want is the world we need, and how people are making that world. There’s this bit where she talks about how that’s a bridge, and sometimes it’s a roof, or a barrier to keep some people out, a crossing, a gathering spot, a place to say no or a place to say yes–capacities are never fixed. This used to be a factory, but now it’s high end condos, I’m guessing (and I guess this only because I’d love to live right next to the park), but maybe it’s available for something else now. How will we repurpose our infrastructure in times of crisis? Or as Gilmore taught me to ask, what will be our geographical solutions to socioeconomic problems? Will we tear down these places brick by brick til we’ve got gardens again, make them rec centers, police stations, schools, nursing homes, greenhouses, more jails and prisons, or what? I got back on my bike and pedaled along, feeling grateful for the ways Ruthie taught me to pay attention to geographies, and that my bicycle keeps teaching me to pay attention to mine, this one right here in front of me, wherever I happen to ride.

State Troopers Parked Inside the Fence at the Proposed Youth Jail Site on Madison

Kate — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 17:53:18 +0000

Today’s ride took me down the hill for a quick stop at the proposed site of the new youth jail to see if there was any Schools Not Jails action afoot. I had planned to ride around for awhile longer, but the wind! Once I took my left on Center and felt the bike getting pushed out from under me, I decided to punk out and make it a short ride. I climbed up to the site and saw the place empty except for an overwhelming presence of state troopers. The cops have been clear that there will be no public demonstrations here, that passing through the gates will result in arrest, and that they will follow through on those threats. Organizers are still doing tons of actions, but the troopers are sitting on this spot, hard. I snapped this picture as the troopers in their vehicles read the paper and generally looked bored. I walked my bike while talking to my brother on the phone and thought about how due to the timing of the phone call it could look like I was reporting and planning something. And that seems to be all it takes–you look like you might be up to no good, and the eyes are on you. But that’s the thing, the eyes are pointed the wrong way. There’s something wrong with a system that thinks the best way to solve social problems is to build more cages. I rounded the way and got back on the bike, a quick stop at the coffee shop/bookstore to pick up some books for students, and then battled the wind back up the hill to home, one revolution at a time.

Schools Not Jails Rally at Monument & Constitution

Kate — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 00:37:38 +0000

It’s Martin Luther King, Jr. day today, so I woke up early, got my reading and writing in, and then hopped on the bike to meet S. for a ride down the hill and then back up for the MLK Day parade. I seriously love parades, but boy, I’m going to have to learn that Baltimore is not New Orleans. Which doesn’t mean the parade wasn’t great–the Westsiders were awesome, New Edition totally brought it, and the various peace groups are always good to see. There were beauty queens and veteran’s groups and local corporations (“Today Our Company celebrates Martin Luther King, but every other day, we celebrate YOU, with amazing low prices!”) and politicians local sports celebs and all that jazz, but no throws, and the crowd just doesn’t get into it the way I’m used to. But anyway. After a quick and dirty lunch (turkey reuben, where have you been all my life?), I rode over to Central Booking at Madison and Fallsway for the Schools Not Jails rally. The crowd was small at first, but it grew. The speeches were excellent, the energy was good, and it seemed like the perfect kind of activity to properly celebrate the live of Dr. King. I know many people see this as a day of service, but it should also be a day of activism, or resistance, and of anger, right? And who can help being angry once they learn of the $104 million the state of Maryland wants to spend to build 120 new cages to house young people to be charged as adults? The argument is that those children shouldn’t be housed with adults. That the solution is specialty cages seems to be the worst form of imagination. The crowd marched to the proposed site where some members unloaded materials to build an impromptu red schoolhouse inside. State troopers were already there, and I heard them talking: “Ask how aggressive they want us to be.” There was much chanting and milling and police helicoptering in advance of arrests, more meat for the jail system. “Tell them if they cross this fence, they will spend the night in jail.” Six folks are doing just that, but they’re joining an ever-increasing number of others. This cannot possibly be the solution to the systemic problems that lead to this shifting definition of what we call “crime.” I pedaled home, grabbed my stuff, and headed to the coffee shoppe to do a little reading for class tomorrow. Yes, it was a good day to remember not only Dr. King, but the myriad people who struggle, past, present, and future.