text:
Such a requirement sounds totally reasonable to me, especially given the fact that the stadium project, which was tacked on to an already overstuffed redevelopment project in the works at Hollywood Park, got rubber-stamped by the city council last month. That means that it won't have to go before Inglewood voters, who would have decided whether they wanted a project this size to be built without the normal planning and environmental oversight (up until a state Supreme Court ruling last year, projects of this scope asking for such exemptions were required to go before voters, which is how a WalMart SuperCenter got turned back in Inglewood in 2004). But evidently no fast-tracking is fast enough for stadium devotees. Shortly after the County Fed's announcement, which included starting a new petition to put the development to a citywide vote this summer, I started getting robocalls from Mayor Butts, who warned me about "outside interests" meddling in the glorious forward motion of "our dream" -- language that sounded like some bastard philosophical offspring of Martin Luther King Jr. and the white racists who opposed him. Talk about cognitive dissonance. Butts also complained about the County Fed's petition being carried out by signature gatherers "who don't live in Inglewood."
An interesting criticism, in light of the fact that the army of signature gatherers who got the 22,000-plus signatures for the pro-stadium petition earlier this year very likely didn't live in Inglewood either. I didn't ask for anybody's address, but let's just say that the ones I saw pounding the pavement for a couple of weeks didn't look like they were from around here. Which is fine, or at least the way all ballot measures are done these days, with day workers whose addresses are entirely immaterial. For Mayor Butts to make an issue of residency is not just a red herring, it's mildly ironic because he himself was accused of not living here long enough when he first filed to run for mayor in 2010, a controversy that never quite died. But I digress.]]> Last week, I got a visit in my neighborhood from yet another signature gatherer. As far as I could tell he wanted me to sign a pledge to support the development -- a kind of loyalty oath to "the dream." I could also, if I wished, retract my signature from the County Fed petition asking for the development to go to the ballot. I declined on both counts, though I didn't sign that new petition because I never ran into those guys. I would sign it, too, but it's a moot point: The deadline for getting the 8,000 signatures required to get the measure onto the citywide ballot is up this week.
All of this intolerance of debate on the part of our local government (fueled by the stadium developer, of course) feels more than slightly panicked to me. If this football stadium is such a fantastic idea whose time has come, why not just let it take its course? If Stan Kroenke and company are going to back out of the stadium deal because it's delayed a bit by a real vote or by hiring negotiations, then this really isn't the commitment that we're being assured that it is. It isn't the deal of the century, no matter of state-of-the-art the stadium.
My neighbors on the block are all in a suspended state about this. They're longtimers who are both skeptical of local government that historically hasn't done enough for black and brown Inglewood, and skeptical of big developers like Kroenke who they see as acting only in their own interests; too often Inglewood is just a means to an end, for both parties. Residents like them don't really figure into either scenario. My neighbors would rather see progress than not, of course. They'd like to believe that the mega-development in the Hollywood Park/Forum corridor that I call Inglewood Island really is an idea whose time has come. They'd like it to lift up the city, increase property values, all that. But they aren't sure if belief is warranted this time.
Actually, in terms of progress, they're far more interested in the basics -- better street lighting, trees trimmed and roads re-paved on time, development that brings a significant number of permanent jobs beyond minimum-wage retail or food service. And a Trader Joe's, naturally. My neighbors want all this not just for themselves, but for their children and grandchildren who they worry about floundering in an economy that doesn't care a whit if a football stadium comes here, or doesn't. And even if it does, it won't make a bit of difference to one of my neighbors who only follows one team: the Dallas Cowboys. She's from Texas, and she's not the only one around here from that state, or thereabouts. If Mayor Butts and company really wants Inglewood to buy into the dream, it would behoove him to first figure out what it is.]]>
The saving grace of the '80s was going clubbing. To my chagrin, I had missed out on the fleeting phenomena of discos (I dreamt since junior high of going to Osko's on La Cienega) and had to content myself with doing disco routines at a hotel ballroom at my high school senior prom in 1979. The next year, when I was actually old enough to get into discos, they were disappearing from the landscape like cloud afro's and bell bottoms. Yet another important cultural moment that I'd missed.
So I had to content myself with the '80s. Fortunately it turned out to be a splendid decade for dance clubs; the dance-floor craze that gave rise to disco in the first place was still around, and the electronic pop and house music that emerged was still anchored in those relentless, disco-worthy beats. No more serious partner dancing, but since I was going out mostly with my girlfriends and male buddies, that was fine. We went to clubs not for the pickup scene or the drug debauchery, but for the thrill of the music and the dance.
But the thrill was often hit and miss. We had to hunt for it, hope for it. On Saturday nights we went to hot spots like Florentine Gardens or Carlos and Charlie's in Hollywood in search of the best grooves. Sometimes we danced more or less nonstop but more often we hugged the wall, waiting for something with a beat (Michael Jackson, Prince, Madonna remixes) that would give us permission to really get down.
And then I discovered the cavernous Catch One on Pico. At the Catch, you never had to wait for good music: that's what it was made of. Located on Pico near Crenshaw, it kind of straddled South Central and Hollywood in more ways than one, much like the World on Wheels skating rink, which was just west of there. The Catch catered to the black gay crowd and so differed from other black spots for that reason, but also because it had elements of glamour and performance unmatched by even the toniest clubs. Going there for me was familiar and comfortable, but also an event.]]> The Catch One is closing soon, and its impending loss reminds me a bit of the loss of Central Avenue of jazz clubs and other black entertainment spots that lost their cachet not just to changing times, but to integration. After the late '40s, when black people could legally live where they wanted, institutions sustained by segregation and the social and social cohesion it created started to crumble. Black folks could spend their money elsewhere, and they did. The problem was that the integration was one way; blacks spent money in jazz clubs on the westside or Hollywood, but they weren't running the places. They were consumers, paying for the privilege of being there and of not being stuck in the hood anymore. In the '80s I had the option of going to black clubs like Little J's or Golden Tail, where the music was reliably funky. But what my friends and I really wanted to do was to turn out the places in Hollywood and the westside and Wilshire, show them what we were made of. We were young and wanted to arrive to the world at large, not to the world at Little J's; in other words, twenty-odd years after the passage of the Civil Rights Act we were still trying to effect meaningful integration, though we didn't know it. We were just out to have a good time, per the dictate of the '80s. But having a good time was still a political act.
I drove late last Saturday night down Santa Monica Boulevard and was impressed by the crush of clubs, by the vibrant, open street life that's still a rarity in L.A. Yet in the recent L.A. Times story about the Catch One, black gay men admitted they are still fighting for a certain equality in this inviting-looking scene. They said they still feel token, unwanted. At least one club had something called Urban Night, a night designated for hip-hop and specifically black music. It reminds me of the practice of businesses during Jim Crow years to set aside certain nights or days for negroes, at clubs or skating rinks or amusement parks. Somewhere in the '80s 'urban' simply became the acceptable marketing term for black, a nonsensical one at that -- what, white people don't live in big cities too? That 'urban' became especially common in stratifying pop music is ironic, given that all American pop is rooted in a black aesthetic. Even Madonna knew that, which is why she and many other big names frequented the Catch in its heyday. For dance clubs everywhere -- then and now-- every night should be urban night.
But here we are in 2015, still needing to separate urban anything from polite society.
Nothing defeats integration like isolation, and we're still living it, even in the age of Obama. We can go where we want now, true. But what matters is what you find--what music is playing -- when you get there.]]>
Last week's commemoration of the march to Selma threw into startling relief the paradox of racial reality in this country, not just in Alabama. We had the predictably inspiring sight of President Obama at the Edmund Pettus Bridge, a black commander-in-chief standing on a bridge named for a Confederate general, in one way closing the circle of a troubled history. We also had the pre-event, front-page story in the L.A. Times that quoted a former Selma city councilman, a white man, who dismissed the commemorative march as "nothing but a nigger street party." At just about the same moment a video surfaced at the University of Oklahoma in which some students, members of the Southern-rooted SAE fraternity, singing gleefully about keeping black people, i.e. niggers, out of the organization. Overall it feels like the ugly side of the paradox is winning these days.
That ugliness can also be subtle. Last week I was chatting over my driveway fence with a relative of my former neighbor, Hortense. Hortense is nearly 99 years old; she moved to this tract in Inglewood from the Midwest in 1953, when it was brand new, and only moved out last year. She was one of the few white folks who sat out the white flight of the 60s and 70s, insisting this was her home. When she left, a distinct part of Inglewood history left with her.
Her family has been fixing the house up ever since, and over the months I became friendly with her daughter-in-law. We talked about Hortense, about plants and gardening, dogs, various aspects of home restoration (I was mightily impressed that Cathy and other family members did all the work themselves--no contractors). And on occasion we talked about Inglewood, though I was always keenly aware that we had lived different versions of it. Neither of us talked about the differences, and I found myself automatically searching for the experiences in common so that we didn't have to end up at the conversational impasse of white flight itself. But it always loomed.
In this last conversation we discovered that we'd attended the same high school, Gardena, though Cathy had graduated in the '50s and I graduated in the '70s. Wonderful coincidence! We exclaimed over it and immediately starting quizzing each other on the more memorable aspects of the school--its agricultural roots, its improbable art collection, the quirky, small-town quality of Gardena itself. She remembered the original campus at the site of what became Peary Jr. High (now Peary Middle School), which I also attended. Feeling more than a little nostalgic, I said that Gardena had been an idyllic time for me because it had been so ethnically diverse, with whites, blacks, Latinos and Asian students present in roughly equal numbers. It was an organic mix that turned out to be a moment in time that didn't last because in the 80s the economy shifted, the crack epidemic started, certain groups left town, public schools got defunded by Prop 13 and...suddenly I was talking about race, and talking about it alone. Carol listened with a kind of polite interest. If there is such a thing.
She admitted that she'd never seen what you could call diversity at Gardena. She said that thought that everybody blamed Prop 13 too much. She thought the biggest problem these days was the fact that kids were just so different than kids in previous generations, more entitled. She thought that they faced so much more danger too, and that was a big part of what made them so different. It was just the way things were, she concluded. Can't do much about it. Things changed.
Things changed. So much, too much, collapsed into two words. It was clear that we were done sharing, on this particular topic anyway. Or she was done sharing. There was no animosity--we went back to talking about the weather, which was still unusually warm, or maybe that was usual now. But I knew: by me bringing up color--really, just talking about my life in public school-- the boundaries of a certain casual intimacy had been tested, and determined. We could have no real intimacy. I had called forth the elephant in the room, or the elephant in the driveway, in a house in a neighborhood in a city that had changed profoundly because of the dynamics of race. By describing that change I realized she thought I was indicting her, calling her motives into question, maybe even casting aspersions on the house she and her family had returned to and worked so diligently to make nice, fresh, as it had been in the beginning. The neighbors on the block appreciated the transformation, noted the diligence. We admired it; it had been good for us.
Still, I had crossed a line. Until I can do that--and not just once, but regularly--crossing the bridge will have to wait.
In the '80s, in that next-step drift between college graduation and the real world, I -- along with a good twenty percent of the population of Los Angeles, at least -- decided I might have what it takes to be in movies, or theater, or radio. Or maybe industrial commercials. I didn't have a clear idea of what I would actually do with acting, which should have been my first clue that it wasn't really my calling. But I had always been curious about it, drawn to its power to make people pay attention for hours at a time to actors on stage or in front of a camera. Acting had the power to make people listen to me in real time, to seriously consider what I was saying, to reckon with who I was -- to pay attention.
This was crucial. I was most interested not in becoming rich and famous (though I certainly wasn't opposed to that) but in becoming visible. I wanted to be seen, and heard. I wanted to matter. Acting seemed a more visceral and direct route to these goals than writing, which I liked too, but it was too solitary. The chances of being seen as a writer were doubtful. Acting had far more, immediately available opportunities for validation: a modest role in even the smallest local play would bring you recognition and applause, night after night, for the length of the show's run. As far as the kind of self-affirmation I was looking for, acting offered a much better deal than writing. Too, I thought, writing was for depressives and overly sensitive or sheltered types, and at 23 I preferred to think of myself as 'out there.' On the verge. I just needed something to finally bring out my inner extrovert.
In 1985 I started in the M.F.A. theater arts program at UCLA, and immediately ran into a buzz saw named Delia Salvi. She was our first-year acting teacher in the two-year degree program. Delia was unsparing, piercing, sharp in every sense of the word. She was an impeccable dresser -- skirts, heels, coordinated scarves -- with a head of chaotic, curly hair and an angular face that a friend of mine in the program described as something Modigliani might have painted. Delia saw acting as a craft, a vocation that demanded hard work, not as a sop for insecure people with delusions of validation. She didn't talk so much as bark commands. Among her better known directives were, "Get off the stage!" and best-known of all, "Relax!" She tended to bellow that word as we were doing scenes or exercises, which invariably made us more tense and less convinced that we belonged in the program, and in her presence, at all. J.K. Simmons in "Whiplash" had nothing on Delia.]]> Being merciless was part of her acting philosophy. She was a follower of Method, which meant she believed that actors couldn't grow until they stripped away the layers of emotional varnish we all built up as adults. You had to get down to your real feelings, the source material of your authentic self. She was probably right, but at the time I was hardly in a position to appreciate that. I was somewhat desperately looking to be told that I was good, or at least okay. I was at UCLA still struggling to belong not simply to acting or to any vocation, but to society at large. Though I had a few accoutrements of belonging -- a bachelor's degree, a shared apartment on the westside -- I felt like an outsider, a black person with accoutrements floating along, or atop, a white world that tolerated me fine but didn't seem to need me. At the heart of my quest for validation and affirmation was that need to be needed.
Delia could not give that to me, or to anybody (I realized later that she was a working actor herself who felt overlooked by the industry; we shared a few of the same demons). That was not her job, literally. In that year I felt more terrified and confused than at any other time in my life. One day I was so undone by Delia's withering critique of my attempt at a Method exercise called moment-to-moment, I took the wrong bus home and didn't realize it for miles. I was crushed, more crushed because I couldn't say so aloud. I thought that Delia had confirmed what I had most feared: that I couldn't tap into an authentic self and therefore I couldn't be an actor. Worse, I couldn't really be myself. Whether it was because I didn't have the fortitude to strip away my particular emotional protections, or because I simply refused to break down in front of a group of strangers, especially white folks, didn't matter. The point is that I could not accomplish at UCLA what I was supposed to. I couldn't get an 'A,' the star on my paper that I had gotten in high school, and a few times as an undergrad.
I got the degree. In the end Delia, who died last week, inadvertently taught me much. She taught me that acting is not a linear course of study, nor is it a purely instinctual endeavor that anybody can do when they get up in the morning -- Delia hated that idea. Acting is a process. However you approach it, it requires concentration and risk and endless dedication. It also takes a certain temperament and resolve -- maybe a kind of madness -- that I liked to believe I had, but knew by the end of my two years that I didn't. I was better suited to writing after all, though another thing that I learned is that writing and acting are much more creatively connected than I first assumed. One thing hardly contradicts the other.
Delia would disapprove of me confessing this, but often I wake up in the morning and think that I can just get up and act. Thirty years later I still think I can still be discovered, set the world on fire, have it see me. Call it Hollywood optimism. Delia had to harbor some of that, or she wouldn't have been in the business at all.]]>
Okay, I added that last line because I couldn't resist. The spiraling hype around the proposed $1.86 billion stadium in Inglewood really feels like one of those extended infomercials in which the miraculous capabilities of the product being hyped just keep coming. As in: it's not just a stadium, it's real-estate history. And it's not going to be just any big development, but the one -- The One -- that's going to launch modest Inglewood over the top and into a civic league to which it's never belonged. Oh yes, it's also going to finally restore pro football to L.A. (Inglewood is L.A.-ish, close enough) and put our city of the future in the limelight where it's always belonged. Pro sports and Hollywood go together. The spectacle of fans clad in Rams gear, part of the fevered throng that packed the Inglewood city council meeting this week, made that clear. At the end of that very long meeting the council voted unanimously to throw out zoning and environmental reviews and fast-track The One. The crowd cheered. A happy ending, or an exciting new beginning, as the triumphant plot twist vanquishes doubts of the past and the credits to this movie rolls.
The stadium-enhanced development of the already multifaceted development under way at Hollywood Park is a project on steroids. The array of amenities being planned is almost bewildering: 2,500 new residences, six or seven office buildings, a shopping center fifty percent bigger than the Grove. It's all one massive project that's starting to feel like Inglewood Island, a new de facto center of town where all the good stuff will go and the rest of the city will merely exist. Maybe I'm wrong and we'll all benefit from a trickle-down. But I'm uneasy that this everything-but-the-kitchen-sink development now has a life of its own that no one can oppose, certainly not residents. Now that developers have gotten their petition signatures for a ballot initiative that won't happen, we hardly matter. At the council meeting there were a few critics who came to the mic during the public comment to sound notes of caution, but they were easily overwhelmed.
I do get the enthusiasm. The idea of such explosive and high-profile growth is literally too much for people in this town not to like. The momentum now feels cosmic, not to be messed with: first the Forum gets back on its feet, sans sports teams, and now perhaps a long-gone sports team returns, in a new, high-tech stadium to boot. The storyline is irresistible, chiefly because Inglewood hasn't really had a good storyline in a long while. Development comes in fits and drabs here, and it isn't exactly glamorous. We had to fight just to get a Fatburger. Not so long ago, the previous mayor was lauding the advent of chain restaurants like Red Lobster and Chili's as incontrovertible proof that "Inglewood is on the move." Look at us now -- everything we ever wanted, on one site. Real transformation is just one massive construction job away.]]> Very tempting, but I've been burned too many times before to believe. My sister, who works as a lawyer downtown and like me, grew up in Inglewood, is encouraging me to see the mega-development as growth akin to what happened and is still happening downtown. People are moving into revamped urban areas that offer a street-level lifestyle like New York or San Francsico. Everything you need within walking distance, which is a big draw. Living next to a stadium or a performing arts space or a bunch of office buildings (or, I suppose, in the flight path of a major airport) is part of the new lifestyle. It's edgy, adventurous, at least for L.A. Inglewood, my sister argues, could benefit from that trend.
I don't know. To begin with, Inglewood isn't downtown, it's technically a South Bay suburb built to discourage street life, except for its own downtown, which has potential but remains anemic. Even if everything gets built at Hollywood Park, it won't be enough -- the whole city has to transform to some degree in order for growth to be real. And I confess, I'm still missing Hollywood Park itself. I still stand at the picnic tables at Darby Park three times a week and overlook what used to be the racetrack and regret that Inglewood never maximized the assets it already had. I worry that this shiny new development is on some kind of collision course with a city that never saw fit to re-develop its own center of town, its heart, ignoring it or waiting instead for outside validation. I remember the Howling Monk coffee bar and jazz spot on Market in the 2000s that portended so much, but it never was joined by other viable businesses and, not able to survive as an island, it eventually closed.
Though only one business, the Monk was an anchor because it was a real seed of the kind of local vision and validation that can never be imported. Market Street has some good spots, but it struggles. It feels left to its own devices. More so now than ever.]]>
This lagging behind happens every year. Every February I flinch at the idea that Black History Month, initially a week created in 1926 to challenge the omission or distortion of black people in official American history, is still largely unclaimed by America. Yes, black history is acknowledged by all, but it's embraced by relatively few. A feeling persists that Black History Month is for black folks, that it is their holiday the way that Martin Luther King Day is for them. It's true; black people observe both things more closely than anyone, and with good reason. That's as it should be. But to cede black history and black heroes like King chiefly to African-Americans is to denigrate that history and those heroes as second-class. To give black history over to black people is to say that such history has little to teach the rest of the country, when in fact that history is decidedly about all of us. But every month we niche-market Black History and do what media advertisers call 'narrowcast,' aim a specific product at a specific group of people and no one else. The focus-group wisdom says that those people will buy what you're selling, so you don't need to try and sell it to anyone else.
History isn't supposed to be a product, but the way it's cut and packaged, its edges sharpened or smoothed out (Martin Luther King is a distressing case in point), it often feels that way. Yet try as we might, we can't make black history a product. It's too messy, too tightly interwoven from the beginning with 'regular' American history to be neatly packaged, to make a statement apart from it. You can't talk about Harriet Tubman or Frederick Douglass without talking about slavery, and you can't talk about slavery without talking about white supremacy. You can't talk about lynchings (if you talk about them at all) without talking about the fact they were often celebratory, picnic-like events for whites in the South and Midwest, that postcards of lynchings were mailed all over the country. The barbarity of such phenomena and what they force us to reckon with is too jarring for many nonblack supporters and sympathizers of black history, so it is minimized or ignored, albeit subconsciously. Or it is hastily subsumed into ahistorical notions of diversity and inclusion. Black history is fine, the message goes, as long as it doesn't ask for too much. As long as it doesn't try to move in next door or impinge on established levels of tolerance for all things colored . It's still expected to know its place.]]> Another reason I flinch at Black History Month is that it's been mushed into the modern version of integration, diversity. Over the years I've grown to hate diversity and its sometime synonym, inclusion. These terms detach from history, black or otherwise, conjuring up aspirational ideas of equality and cooperation . They suggest that we don't really need history because diversity and inclusion are their own reward: diversity/inclusion suggest a kind of conceptual utopia in which Americans, given the choice, always choose justice because, well, this is America. We're in the justice business. That's what history tells us, yes?
I did observe Black History Month last weekend by attending the Pan-African Film Festival at the Rave Cinema at the Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza. I reveled in the atmosphere of unbridled blackness, in the energy of a creative, color-specific enterprise that attracts people from all over the city, and beyond. For black people to be the center of gravity in such an unabashedly positive way was affirming, to say the least. It was validating. And it's a rarity in that the films showcased each year collectively describe the full complexity of black history, from the ugliness of slavery and racism to the subtleties of acutely individual character studies set in the present day. Of course the subject matter is not uniformly pleasant -- not suitable for diversity -- but it is all worthy of observation and celebration. It's a reminder that art can do what politics will not.
Of course history is an art in its own right. It's a creation. For all the names and dates and factoids put forth during Black History Month, ultimately it means what we want it to mean. One of these years we'll all get on the same page.]]>
For Phil Sparks, Emerson is home. He doesn't live here, of course. He lives in Inglewood. But he's spent so much time here over the last 26 years, as a student and as a volunteer, that it would be accurate to say that in a real way, he does live here. Over the decades the school has nurtured Phil, academically and socially. It's given him a family of teachers and staff who have embraced him, who look out for him. For Phil (full name is Philip Darwin Sparks), who has aphasia and has trouble communicating clearly, this is huge. He doesn't say this -- he doesn't say a lot of things, not directly anyway -- but I know he agrees.
I've been hearing about Phil for many years through my mother, who for many years worked in the front office at Emerson. The stories she routinely told me about work had a whole lively cast of characters, but Phil always stood out. I'd never met him, though, until last week at Emerson -- naturally. He came with Patrick Meyer, the director of Emerson's individual instruction lab and Phil's closest friend at the school. Also, I sense, his closest friend outside the school. Patrick downplays the relationship a bit. "We're all a support group for Phil," he explains. "It's a family here, the Emerson family." Still, the connection is obvious. As we talk Patrick more or less translates for Phil, re-phrasing my questions, helping him make connections.
The contrast between them is stark, almost comical. Phil is black, burly, and intense; throughout the conversation he sits leaning forward, large hands clasped on the patio table. He doesn't want to miss anything. Patrick is white and reedy, a lifelong surfer with a laid-back smile and almost laconic air. Phil grew up in the Crenshaw area, Patrick in the valley. But their lives have a couple of interesting parallels. Both are 46 and came to Emerson in 1989, Phil as a reading student and Patrick as a teaching assistant finishing up his degree at nearby Loyola Marymount. Both have an extraordinary commitment gene: In 26 years, neither has missed a day of work. Phil's actual job is at Ralph's grocery store on Olympic Boulevard in Century City, where he works a graveyard shift cutting open boxes. When he gets off at 7 a.m., no matter how tired he is, he heads to Emerson for math and other classes, and to do his daily volunteer work of separating trash for recycling. It's a tradition that Phil has held down since 1990, when the Emerson student council voted him in charge of recycling; the council has long since disbanded, but Phil kept to his task. Not keeping it doesn't seem to occur to him. He donates the recycling money -- roughly $100 a year -- to a scholarship at Emerson.]]> Despite his communication challenges, Phil has always been independent. He got his GED years ago. He has his own apartment, a job, and a car (not at the moment, though; he and Patrick are working on that) He belongs to a couple of bowling leagues. He loves roller coasters, the more daredevil the better. He could do without surfing; when I ask him why he won't consider taking it up, he holds up a finger and says solemnly, "Sharks." Patrick brings him to his family Thanksgiving dinner in Van Nuys, another tradition that's been going on 15 years or so. Phil loves parties and celebrations of all kinds. He never misses one at Emerson, Patrick says -- retirement, graduation, birthdays. On one such occasion he volunteered to bring pizza. When Patrick went to pick him up, Phil loaded up his car with no fewer than 50 pizzas -- on the way to Emerson, Patrick recalls, "my windows were all steamed up -- I could barely see!" Each year in November the school gives Phil his own birthday fete. Phil also loves to sing. He's been in the choir at more than one church in town, including Brookins A.M.E. And he knows the lyrics to most songs in the Motown catalogue.
Yet there is much about Phil that Patrick doesn't know, things that Phil can't or won't talk about. He has family, but it's unclear how involved they are in his life. At least one time Phil stopped coming to Emerson -- an unusual development -- and when he reappeared, his eyes were bloody and he didn't say what had kept him away. Patrick worries about Phil navigating the world outside what he affectionately calls "Club Emerson," a world that almost certainly will misunderstand him, literally and in other ways. He worries, for example, about police encounters. About Phil being misunderstood in ways that could be dangerous, or even fatal.
But Phil has come this far just fine. His main concern these days is finding another part-time job to supplement his Ralphs gig, which after 26 years still only pays minimum wage. Over the years, the economy has gotten more unforgiving and he needs more just to afford rent and the basics. We can all relate to that. Phil is hoping to get a dish-washing job; Patrick and a fellow Emerson teacher have been working hard to get it for him. No luck so far. But Phil is assuming that luck will change. So is Patrick. Despite their difference in temperaments, another thing they seem to have in common is a rock-ribbed optimism. "He just brightens your day because he never gets down," Patrick says of Phil.
One thing that brightened Patrick's day recently -- dazzled is more like it -- was something that happened as he was walking down Wilshire in Santa Monica. He spied a small piece of paper on the sidewalk and, half-hoping it was an unclaimed lottery ticket, stopped to pick it up. It wasn't a ticket; just a slip of white paper with three words written on it in bold black ink: Watch Phil Sparks.
Not that Patrick needed to be told that, but he kept that paper. It was a sign. Of what, he's not exactly sure. Phil didn't seem surprised at all.]]>
That old excitement was stirring this past Saturday at FanFest at Dodger Stadium. It's an annual pre-season gathering of the faithful, a family day in the regular sense, but also in the biggest, most baseball sense. I had never been but decided to tag along this year with my nephew, a longtime blue-bleeding Dodger follower who came chiefly to get autographs from relief pitcher Kenley Jansen. A big draw at FanFest are the autograph sessions, and I was happy to learn that among the players who would be doing them (pre-purchased at $20 a pop) were former third baseman Ron Cey and catcher Steve Yeager, oldtimers from my particular era of Dodgermania whose stats I once knew like scripture. I wasn't planning on getting an autograph, but it would be good to see them. 2014 had been a tough year on several fronts, and I was looking forward to reconnecting to a sense of hope and change, to memories of victories won. The Dodgers were all that.
I'm not exaggerating: just walking onto the field and looking up at the stadium that surrounds it, having the player's-eye view, was glorious (my nephew said that having FanFest on the field this year, as opposed to the parking lot last year, was an inspired move. I agree.) I've been in the dugout before, but this was a different thrill -- being on the stage as opposed to in the wings. Fans around me seemed similarly, happily dazed; I passed one man laying prostrate on the grass in center field, perhaps overcome. Over near the dugout other FanFest-ers were standing patiently in line to get the chance to run all the bases, or more accurately, walk them. An older man with bright blue facepaint stood on the first-base bag, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking very content and not too anxious to get to second.]]> On the stage set up in far right field, various Dodger players were interviewed, including Howie Kendrick and Kenley Jansen, Cey and Yeager. Jansen and Kendrick were appealing, and drew lots of applause, but their remarks were relatively brief and dutiful. Cey and Yeager spread out, swapping stories and otherwise luxuriating in a triumphant Dodger past that I was proud to have known firsthand. Vin Scully came out last and did his own reminiscing in that signature voice, sans interviewer -- really, what would have been the point? Throughout the morning, the five Dodger World Series championship banners hung from the eaves of the stadium high above the stage; the last one in the row was hung in 1988, twenty-seven years ago. For a lot of Southern Californians, the drought has long been a way of life. But there's always this year.
It got off to a good start. My nephew, for his part, was ecstatic: Kenley Jansen autographed not just a jersey, but a framed photo. He'd been a little nervous about bringing the photo and breaking the implicit one-autograph-per-customer rule, but it turned out not to be a problem; he even chatted up Jensen where most people, he told me, stayed quiet. Reverent. He took a chance and got more than what he'd come for. I know that feeling. I'm hoping to get it again in '15.]]>
Partly because I grew up with a mother who had a green thumb -- she could make the most temperamental plants flourish in our kitchen window, including African violets -- I grew up believing that you do not cut down trees, that to do so indulges a self-centeredness that can have bad spiritual consequences. As a child, I read magic into the trees that populated the fairy tales I devoured -- forests harbored good, innocent people at critical moments and confused or closed in on the villains. Nowadays when I see a tree trunk scribbled red with graffiti or worse yet, a pale stump exposing the inner life of the tree that once was, I cringe at the violence of the act. I feel the loss. My husband was going to commit that violence over my dead body.
I also had in mind the rampage of two years ago, when more than 400 trees were leveled in Inglewood to clear the way for the ground transport of the space shuttle Endeavour from the airport to the Science Center in Exposition Park. Every time I drive down Manchester, despite the bright addition of the new Forum, I feel the indignity all over again. The trees were replaced with rows of saplings that only remind me what was there before, and how long it'll take to get to that point again. The saplings might as well be stumps.
My husband, it must be said, has a bit of a trigger finger when it comes to landscaping. A few years ago he went in the backyard to trim back the bougainvillea, and after about an hour had trimmed it to death. When he was done there was nothing left but the worn wooden trellis. He tried to argue that it was time, that new growth is good, that it was just a bougainvillea, but even he couldn't help looking guilty. Since then I've been wary any time he picks up a clipper or a saw or even a large scissors, and he knows it.]]> But this time, he says it's out of his hands. The roots of the crepe myrtle in the backyard near the porch are cracking the foundation of the house, shifting it off its foundation. The two podocarpus trees that frame the house in front are threatening plumbing lines. The crepe myrtle is tall but delicate, almost gossamer. Its trunk doesn't look much more than a foot wide. I find it hard to believe it's doing all this damage. But my husband has gotten second opinions, one from our longtime gardener and another from a friend in the neighborhood who does a lot of home repair and says bluntly that pretty much all trees near a house are a menace. Surprised you've had them this long, he said soberly.
I compromised in the end. The crepe myrtle is gone, marked only by the bricked circle of dirt where it had stood for the many decades it had lived here. Now I will have to keep its memory, rather than the other way around. The podocarpuses have gotten a reprieve, though I suspect my husband thinks it's temporary. If I get my way -- and I'm determined this time -- they will stay. As trees should.
Such was the troubled but very timely backdrop to the conversation Wednesday at the central library downtown, "Race and Image in the Obama Era," part of the notable ALOUD series organized by the Los Angeles Public Library foundation. I was moderator of a conversation between author Jeff Chang and film director Justin Simien. Chang's latest book, pointedly titled "Who We Be," is an impressively informed, impassioned look at the rise and fall of multiculturalism and social justice via the visual arts; Simien's debut movie, "Dear White People," which satirizes but also dimensionalizes racial struggles in the modern age, opened late last year to great acclaim. They talked about their work, but mostly about the ongoing conundrum of America being a country that loves inclusion in theory -- it comports with our highest ideals of democracy, after all, just what Obama articulates -- but mostly fails at it in practice. So are we fooling ourselves on purpose? Do we like multiculturalism, but only to a point? Are we so far removed from the epic battles like the one depicted in the movie "Selma" that white Americans and young Americans of all colors don't recognize the depth of injustice anymore? Has marketing and advertising done such a splendid job of selling us diverse, justice-for-all images that we now believe that the pictures are reality, not corporations cleverly tapping into our wish fulfillment for a more perfect union and smothering a vital impulse for change?]]> All of the above. The upshot of the ALOUD conversation was that wish fulfillment is nice, but it can make us stupid, and worse, hypocritical. For instance, Simien talked about the fallacy of the notion of colorblindness, which many people equate with multiculturalism. But to say you don't see color is a way of negating someone's identity, rendering them not equal, but indistinct and invisible. Oppression with a progressive face. Chang mused about Asian-Americans being caught up in being the "model minority," the ideal candidates for the American mainstream -- but also its whipping boy when convenient. The bottom line is that it's the center controlling all these dynamics, not black folks or any people of color. Chang and Simien also talked about the unnerving ease with which nonblack people don blackface, literally or by appropriating aspects of it via hip-hop and other commercialized art/propoganda that's repeatedly sold to us as black culture. Simien said this puts black people in the eternal trap of defending the legitimacy of hip-hop and at the same time protesting that it isn't black culture, not all of it anyway. Blacks are always fighting the image battle, which has always been an integral part of the battle for social justice; how we appear in pictures and in the culture at large is not minor or cosmetic, it's central. Image is politics. It is power. There is no separation between the two and never has been.
Chang's book reminded me of that pivotal, pioneering multiculti ad campaign back in 1971, Coca-Cola's "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing." I was a kid then, but I remember being absolutely moved by the song, delivered by young people of all colors and countries arrayed on a green hillside, smiling and optimistic. I was a bit too young to fully comprehend the politics of the time, but I knew the country had been through a rough time, that race had been a huge problem, and I took the song and its message to heart. America was going to finally live up to its promise as a grand place for all, I thought. If only that had been the real thing.]]>
Yet I'm always ready to be converted from my car dependency into public transportation. The South L.A. community forum was a good place to start the process. It was sponsored by Move L.A., a pro-transit organization that's trying to expedite the development of rail and other projects all over the county. I was invited there by my friend Jerard Wright, a policy analyst with Move L.A. and a 30-ish graduate of Hamilton High School who got the transit bug early growing up near an Exposition Boulevard right-of-way, and later near USC. His environs sparked his imagination about the possibilities of public transit, he said. That right-of-way is now part of the Expo Line; if Jerard and Move L.A. get their way, we'll have a lot more rail relatively soon -- ten years.
Move L.A. is the broad and somewhat unlikely coalition of elected officials, business interests, environmentalists, and others who came together back in '08 to advocate for Measure R, the landmark county ballot measure that approved a half-cent sales tax for transportation funding. Raising $36 billion over thirty years made it the biggest transit expansion program in the nation, though now Move L.A. is focused on an accelerated "30-10" plan, meaning that it wants to see all 12 Measure-R funded rail lines built in ten years instead of the less ambitious thirty. One of the ways they're trying to fund it is through another county ballot measure R2, slated for 2016.
It all sounds exciting enough, though the rub -- always the rub with big publicly funded projects that cover huge, dense urban areas -- is distributing the resources and vision to where it's needed most. Transportation equity is in some ways no different than education equity. The question is how poor and/or communities of color with the greatest need of public transit and the economic development it potentially brings get in the mix. The Southwest College forum, the first of several, was meant to educate and also solicit input from South L.A. folks about the transit projects coming online, starting with the Crenshaw-to-LAX line now under way. The questions asked were the same ones asked more than 20 years ago when post-'92 redevelopment in South L.A. was all the buzz: What do we need? What would we like to see? When can we see it?]]> We haven't stopped asking those questions; the prospect of improved transit just frames them differently. One of many things I learned Saturday is that South L.A. has double the number of pedestrians than the rest of the county and far fewer car owners. That's a good thing in one way, but it also speaks to an impoverished landscape that needs more help than transit alone. Malcolm Carson of Community Health Council, who sat on the forum's first panel, made that point. "What we really need is community revitalization," he said, "not just moving from point A to point B."
More than one attendee expressed concern about displacement of residents that can happen when making way for rail and other kinds of transportation projects; the history of our freeways, notably the 105, still live in the minds of many. Then there was the question of just how much improved are the neighborhoods where rail has been running for decades, like Watts. The fact that the Blue Line hasn't turned the poorest part of South L.A. into Beverly Hills isn't feasible, and it isn't transit's fault. Having rail breaks Watts' isolation from the rest of the city in an important way; it quite literally moves L.A. But the link between transit and major community development needy places is still largely missing. Let's just say that transit's role as a development catalyst has yet to be fully exploited.
Move L.A. is looking to change that. Nolan Rollins, head of the L.A. Urban League, reminded everyone that such a change in South L.A. is not optional, but essential. "This is not a conversation about altruism," he said. "It's not about feeling bad for anybody. Policy has to be created for the people. The people invest every day. South L.A. is demanding a return on its investment."
He didn't say it, but I will: public transportation -- good public transportation, built with the needs of people in mind -- is a civil right. Martin Luther King, whose birthday we observe Monday, would likely agree. Next time I come to Southwest College, I'll be walking -- or better yet, I'll be on the bus.]]>
On my last visit there we talked a lot about police brutality -- Inglewood got on that map long before Ferguson -- but we also talked about Inglewood itself. That's a running topic of ours, the state of the city and how its endless struggles to self-realize are rooted in a history of black spaces being devalued and ignored, even by black people. No wonder that it often seems that successful redevelopment doesn't stand a chance. Economics, real estate prices and available land are all part of what drives redevelopment, but Kerry and I agree that what really drives it is desirability -- a widely accepted real-estate term that's code for an area's ability to attract upwardly mobile, chiefly young white people. That's the je ne sais quoi that's transformed places like Silver Lake and downtown and is now transforming Highland Park at breakneck speed. Inglewood, Kerry and I agree, is still perceived as too black and therefore still too forbidding for the upwardly mobile-minded to muscle in, even the hardy urban pioneer types. We're on our own.
But now we're being told that Inglewood is on the verge. The resounding first-year success of the refurbished, concerts-only Fabulous Forum and the possibility of getting an NFL football stadium plus another entertainment venue built from the ground up are but two of the reasons Curbed L.A. recently named Inglewood L.A.'s Best Neighborhood of the Year (we beat out old-money heavies like Los Feliz). More value will be added by Metro's upcoming Crenshaw rail line that will run through Inglewood on its way to LAX; our mayor, James Butts, now has a seat on the MTA board. Then there are those things that recommend Inglewood that have always frankly recommended, but not transformed it -- good location, proximity to the ocean, attractive housing prices. Inglewood's city council is recognizing the fact that we've long had a robust but underground artist community by officially encouraging artists to locate here, especially in the north end around NewStyleWeb.]]> It all feels encouraging, and not a little flattering. Certainly our moment in the sun feels past due. I'm especially excited about Inglewood growing a reputation as an artist's hub. But neither Kerry nor I are convinced that this flurry of media interest is anything beyond a moment. History has already shown us that having the Forum in town, which previously housed the signature L.A. sports franchise, the Lakers, doesn't automatically benefit Inglewood. There's no trickle-down. A Laker-ized Forum didn't hurt anything, but on its own it did nothing to stop the economic and civic slide initiated roughly 50 years ago by massive white flight and disinvestment (50 years ago was also when the Forum opened for business -- pretty bad timing). That doesn't negate the good characteristics that Inglewood has and always had. Trust me, I'm a fan. But the truth is that the Forum and the recently departed Hollywood Park always operated in a kind of bubble, in Inglewood but never really of it. That seemed by design, and our city government did nothing, or didn't do enough, to try and change things. It just seemed grateful that the Forum was here at all.
What we really need to thrive is not just shiny retail outlets or a football stadium or entertainment venue, but businesses and real places of employment. We need residents holding officials accountable for acting on the people's behalf, not on the behalf of multimillionaires dangling promises of fame and civic validation that small cities, especially those of color, are always too desperate to have.
One of Inglewood's proudest moments was 2004, when voters rejected an attempt by Wal-Mart to build a SuperCenter store on the site where Rams owner Stan Kroenke is now proposing to build a stadium (not coincidentally, Kroenke made his millions building stores for Wal-Mart). The world's biggest retailer wanted to fast-track the project by skipping the usual city oversight, including environmental reviews, and sank more than $1 million in a ballot initiative and a slick ad campaign to get its way. The voters, who had no campaign and virtually no money, said no. It's that kind of self-determination and sense of what's best for itself that Inglewood really needs more of. Plus a few more hip boutiques.To get a sense of both, I recommend dropping by Kerry's place.]]>
I could hardly say no. Not that I wanted to. While I've been very supportive of the marching and protests the last five months, I had yet to get in the streets myself, maybe because nobody had invited me. It was time.
At the Grove we caught a morning screening of "Selma," appropriately enough, before heading over to the park. I've read about and seen countless iterations of civil rights history in books and documentaries, but the movie, with its deeply empathetic portrayal of black citizen activists facing 400 years of racial animus in the deep South culminating in the terrifying Selma episode, moved me in a new way. It reminded me of the real roots of police brutality and how shooting unarmed black people for so long wasn't even considered immoral, let alone illegal. Of course we don't have bloodbaths like the one that happened on the Edmund Pettus bridge in 1965, but a callous public attitude towards the welfare black people remains, hardened over the decades into an almost polite indifference about all matters of race. But at the march I also saw positive echoes of the '60s. While most of the marchers were black, plenty were white, including one young married couple behind me who were pushing a pair of toddlers in a stroller. There were Asians, whites, millennials of all colors and older radicals, all marching, chanting and/or bearing signs reading "Black Lives Matter," as well as pithy tweaks on the sentiment, such as "Legalize Blackness" (my favorite was "Speak, so you can speak again," a Zora Neale Hurston quote). This is what I hadn't seen in my lifetime, this multiracial show of support for black humanity. It felt good, but strange.
We were marching through an unlikely part of town -- around the Beverly/Fairfax/Farmers Market/ La Brea area that's kind of a nexus of the L.A. good life. It lacks the grit of downtown, South Central, or even Hollywood. It lacks any resonant symbolism. So it felt odd to be swarming down Beverly Boulevard past El Coyote Café and then south down La Brea, past rows of upscale shops and boutiques that I had never noticed driving past in my car. An area that used to serve a mix of aspiring and upper middle class is now clearly aiming for the one percent. Marching past these places was incongruous, to say the least, and I expected hostility from the faces we passed. But I saw none. Some shoppers waved in solidarity, others watched curiously, still others walked past us with that look of determined racial indifference.]]> At 4th street we passed Bleu, a boutique that I've frequented since the days when I lived just south of the neighborhood, and I felt not guilt, but a kind of attack of consciousness -- what have I, among the first full beneficiaries of the movement, been doing with my life? What would I die for? What has relatively new freedom from the racial animus that defined so much of American history done for my character, for the character of my generation? Has the freedom to go into any store or public space we want, to buy what we want and default to the good life, made us too soft?
My 29-year-old niece and her friends were not bothered by such questions. As she marched, she chatted to her friends and worked her smartphone simultaneously. But she wasn't being callous; to the contrary, she was engaged. Coming to the protest was a no-brainer for her, because she believed in the cause and also because it was so doable. Around 2,000 people had rsvp'ed for this protest on Facebook, she told me with satisfaction. I am no social media acolyte, but I was happy to hear it. I know that Facebook and social media do not constitute revolution -- Malcolm Gladwell has made a convincing case for this -- but the fact that Facebook is on board with Ferguson is a good thing. The cause is helped tremendously if it becomes fashionable, or in modern lingo, if it's trending. In the '60s, the movement was definitely in fashion; it was something that everybody had to have a position or an opinion about, especially young people. You couldn't avoid it. Now it's looking like Ferguson, police brutality, and the timeless issue of racial equality is becoming similarly unavoidable. Again.
There were some moments that lay somewhere between surreal and transporting. On Wilshire, in the middle of Miracle Mile, we all stopped as one for moments of silence, as a huge billboard advertising "Selma" loomed overhead, and a police helicopter loomed over that. Further up the boulevard my niece and her friends made a dash into Starbucks. Lines were long, and I fretted afterward that the crowd had left us behind -- serves us right, I thought gloomily, for taking our eyes off the prize.
But it hadn't left us. We ran and caught up, and fell comfortably back into the stream of people like we'd never lost ground at all.]]>
All that's changed now. The Metro construction has been slowly but surely narrowing the heart of Crenshaw lane by lane; at Vernon in Leimert Park, traffic flow is down to a trickle. At Exposition, Crenshaw is blocked and impassable, forcing drivers to re-route east to Arlington or west to La Brea, both of which have their own issues. Further south along Crenshaw into Inglewood, where I am, crews have been plowing up the street for utility improvements for at least the last couple of months. Heading north I've often had no choice but to cobble together a route of residential streets and intersections too minor to rate traffic lights or even street signs. I don't like the thought this requires, the fact that I can no longer expect to get from Inglewood to Baldwin Hills in twelve minutes on Crenshaw. That's been the whole beauty of the boulevard, and the general lack of appreciation for this beauty has always made me feel smug, more than a bit superior. Now Crenshaw is becoming merely another congested mess in a sea of L.A. messes. It's losing its edge.]]> I know this is temporary. The construction will eventually end (though in the case of Metro, not for years ). But I already worry about Crenshaw being inevitably changed, not meaning what it means now. A train running down its middle will change its character, and its local function; I can't imagine a Metro-fied boulevard being quite the great bridge and the great divide it's been up to this point. It can't remain my secret anti-traffic weapon, my clever back channel to better known destinations that often seem entirely unaware of it ("You got here how?" people in West Hollywood have asked me, with a puzzled look. "How far is Crenshaw from here?") I also know that in this case, change will be progress. The whole point of building the Crenshaw Line and adding the bike lanes near Leimert is to discourage the number of cars on the road, period. I admitted that in last week's column about CivicLAvia. It's a good goal, a worthy goal. I'm glad it was expressed so emphatically at that event. I couldn't agree more. I was thrilled to see Crenshaw and all of South Central reimagining itself as cyclist- and pedestrian-welcome, no longer a tired civic joke passed over by the 10 freeway.
And yet. I'm not ready to give up Crenshaw. I'm reluctant to surrender the street that's my car's best friend when time is of the essence and I've got to go north in a hurry. I can do that in a train or even a bus. But travelling the boulevard is private; in my car I almost always go it alone. It's not just a shortcut or a through line, it's a meditation: twenty minutes or so of taking stock, musing at Slauson and 48th and Vernon, and other checkpoints on where the community is and where it's going.
Now, if everything goes right, I'll have some company in that reflection. I really need it, though I don't exactly want it. Riding Crenshaw is one bit of privacy that, I realize, I guard jealously. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.]]>
That was not the case on Sunday. The boulevard was packed more densely than I'd ever seen it. And the reason why it was packed was totally different than any reason in the past. It was not for a specific festival or regular paean to Malcolm X or Martin Luther King; people had come here simply to come here. Of course they were all united in the fact that they'd arrived on bikes, or some other set of non-combustible-engine-powered wheels, to make a grand statement about rethinking public transportation in car-obsessed L.A. That's what CicLAvia is about. What was so tremendous is that for the first time it felt like Leimert was being brought a bigger ideal, an ideal delivered like a gift, opened up, set out in the middle of the street and enjoyed by everybody in their own way.
Make no mistake, this was a festival atmosphere. Under a hazy summer-like sky, the cyclists and skateboarders and other CicLAvia enthusiasts flowed merrily in both directions down Leimert Boulevard, the last (or first) leg of the South Central route that connected Leimert to the Central Avenue neighborhood seven miles east via King Boulevard. Those disembarking at Leimert were met with music and food and black-themed books and art and other items for sale. Among the more colorful additions to the cyclists was a mini-parade of folks on foot outfitted in enormous headdresses and other Carnival finery -- a preview of Mardi Gras. But the afternoon wasn't about primarily about a party, or about the browsing or any exotica-surfing that I'm used to. That didn't feel like the point this time. This time it was about how all these disparate people brought together by an ideal finally partook of Leimert not as a curio, but as a community.]]> One striking sight among many was Ackee Bamboo, the fine but usually sleepy Jamaican restaurant on Degnan, overflowing with patrons, including whole families of whites and Asians and Latinos, who stood patiently in line and filled the outdoor tables in just the way I've seen them wait in line and fill tables on the westside. Everybody sat and ate like they sat and ate here every Sunday, reading papers, lingering over their meals. I was impressed and unexpectedly moved at the sight. And not little alarmed, though not out of fear, but surprise: I hadn't realized how comfortable I've grown with a certain isolation.
At the end of the day those folks all went home, I know. But Leimert Park feels a little changed, for the better. It didn't host the Olympics, but it did host something that is less an episodic event than an ideal meant to change our way of life, and such a goal fits very comfortably here. It belongs in a place that always flashes an edge of dissent. I know some locals had their doubts about the CicLAvia-in-South-L.A. hoopla, me included. On Sunday I saw several folks who live in the Spanish-style apartment buildings on either side of Leimert Boulevard stand out near their fences with their arms folded, eyeing the seemingly endless procession of bicycles with a mix of interest and cynicism. What, and who, is all this for? Who's going to benefit?
For once, those questions didn't really fit the occasion. Though we didn't create it, this was for us. We got something out of it, chiefly the presence of an entire city that might be present again. Especially now that it realizes that it doesn't have to drive past Leimert Park or South Central. People can bike here.]]>


text:
need help?
9:00 am–5:00 pm, Monday–Friday
call toll-free
Calendar of Programs
|9:00 am–5:00 pm, Monday–Friday
call toll-free
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Radiant Health: A Weekend Retreat for Women
For women of all ages. Looking for the perfect getaway? Need to de-stress, rebalance, and reclaim your vitality? This retreat designed by Kripalu Yoga teacher trainer Sudha Carolyn Lundeen nurtures body, mind, and soul in a relaxing, fun, and informative environment. more
Friday, March 27, 2015
Bryan Kest's Power Yoga Immersion
Every Bryan Kest workshop is a full immersion in the practice of yoga. Each of the four yoga sessions this weekend includes a practice that strengthens not just the body, but also the qualities of mind that have the greatest impact on well-being. more
Energy Medicine: A Hands-On Experience
For health-care professionals and everyone interested in learning energy healing. In this hands-on training, designed to be both fun and transformational, celebrated energy healer, author, and teacher Donna Eden shows you how to Increase your vitality Enhance health Boost your joy Send healing to areas of your body that need attention. more
Presence, Power, Pleasure: A Chakra Yoga, Dance, and Meditation Retreat
What could be better than feeling fully present, connected to your power, and able to enjoy yourself and your life, with your whole being running at 100 percent? more
Taking the Midlife Leap: One Step at a Time
Come uncover the seeds of possibility that will flourish in the second half of your life. Midlife is a natural time to reevaluate who you are and the life you've created. more
The Natural Singer: Find Your True Voice
Come celebrate the magnificent healing power of your voice. Whether you already sing, or have always wished you could, this workshop provides a remarkably safe environment to finally find your true voice and sing your heart open. more
Your Mission in Life: Care of Soul, Body, Spirit, and World
We were sent here for a purpose. We have a destiny, a job to do. If we're doing that job, we find peace and joy even in the midst of difficulties. more
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Tantra to Love: Sacred Sexuality, Tantra Yoga, and Qigong Retreat (Cancelled)
Program cancelled. For singles, couples, and all sexual orientations; yoga and qigong experience not required. Experience new levels of expansion, clarity, and connection with Self through the practice of tantra. more
Deep Writing Workshop
Give yourself the gift of a week in the embrace of your writing. Eric Maisel's Deep Writing workshop is simple in structure and powerful in effect. more
Divine Sleep Yoga Nidra Teacher Training
For yoga teachers, therapists, counselors, health professionals, and everyone interested in guiding others to relax and heal. Divine Sleep Yoga Nidra is the antidote for modern life, a practice that heals and transforms on all levels (koshas)—the physical, energetic, mental, emotional, witness, and bliss bodies. more
Five-Day Spring Detox for a Vibrant Life
Is your body ready for an overhaul? This retreat is meant to detoxify the body, mind, and spirit so you can shed the layers that weigh you down and see the world with a fresh perspective. more
Spring Cleanse with Ayurveda
Open your heart and mind to new possibilities and positive direction as you create a personal plan that integrates the wisdom of Ayurveda into your life. more
Teaching Trauma-Sensitive Yoga: A Workshop for Yoga Teachers
For certified yoga teachers. The Justice Resource Institute Trauma Center Yoga Program team has taught thousands of people with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) yogic skills proven to reduce their symptomology to a significant degree. more
The Painting Experience: Awakening the Creative
Tap into an extraordinary resource: the vibrant, driving force of your own creative spirit. Painting has the power to awaken a wild vein of passion that will not go back to sleep. more
The Science of Yoga for Health Professionals
For everyone, including nurses, doctors, mental-health workers, yoga teachers, physical therapists, and nutritionists. Curious about the science behind asana (yoga postures), meditation, and pranayama (breathing techniques)? more
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Yoga Mini-Retreat for Spirited Women over 45
For women with min. 1 year continuous study of yoga; some alignment-based experience helpful. Explore the challenges and triumphs of getting older in a spirit-infused journey that leads you deeper within. more
Friday, April 3, 2015
CircusYoga: The Human Art of Play (Adults)
CircusYoga, a blend of interactive yoga, circus arts, and transformational play, returns to Kripalu for its 15th year. This alchemy of connection and joyful fun results in a state of deep rejuvenation. more
CircusYoga: The Human Art of Play (Kids)
CircusYoga, a blend of interactive yoga, circus arts, and transformational play, returns to Kripalu for its 15th year. This alchemy of connection and joyful fun results in a state of deep rejuvenation. more
Creating Transformational Workshops: Leading Mind-Body Experiences
When you're clear about your calling and you have the right tools, you're in a powerful position to help others. Are you ready to bring your passion into group settings in ways that create synergy, original thinking, and breakthrough solutions? more
Cultivating Loving-Kindness: A Yoga and Meditation Retreat
1 year of yoga practice in any tradition; no meditation experience required. Slow down. Breathe. Dive deep and rediscover the core of loving-kindness that exists within. more
Freestyle Meditation: Finding Your Own Way
Experience meditation in a style of openness and freedom. Forget all your old ideas of what you should or shouldn't do while you meditate, and recall a more expansive and joyful way of being. more
Kula Flow: Vinyasa for Strength, Detoxification, and Levitation
For students who have practiced asana for at least 1 year and have some experience with vinyasa. Your center. Your emotional brain. The physical heart of your yoga practice. more
The Guru Is You: Healing, Self-Empowerment, and Manifesting Your Potential
Would you like more contentment, balance, and joy in your life? Are you ready to heal, grow, and manifest your fullest potential? You have the power to overcome obstacles, connect with your authentic self, and express who you were meant to be. more
The Wholeness Process: A New Path to Awakening and Resolving Problems
Discover the Wholeness Process, a powerful tool for dissolving the everyday sense of ego that you can use for your spiritual nourishment and evolution. more
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
300-Hour Kripalu Yoga Teacher Training: Guiding Meditation for Transformational Yoga Teaching
Kripalu's 300-hour yoga teacher training comes to Dream Yoga Studio and Wellness Center in McLean, Virginia, 10 minutes from Washington DC. Exploring the World Within Yoga teaches us that the pursuit of inner stillness is actually enhanced by periods of physical activity. more
Friday, May 1, 2015
Creative Myths and Monsters: A Workshop on The Artist's Way
Discover and recover your creative self with Julia Cameron, author of the groundbreaking book The Artist's Way. Now is the time to release your dreams and launch a more creative life, simply by doing something you love. more
Emotional Mindfulness, Connection, and Healing: Befriending the Wisdom and Power of Your Emotions
Emotions help you feel alive, meet life's challenges, enrich your relationships, and heal from emotional wounds. Learn how to recognize, tap into, and get the most out of your emotions and be fully present with yourself and others in this highly experiential workshop grounded in contemporary neuroscience and drawn from a variety of psychotherapeutic approaches. more
Introduction to Yoga and Meditation
Do you want to try yoga and meditation but don't know where to begin? Are you looking for a safe and welcoming environment in which to explore the basics? more
Kripalu Vinyasa Flow: Flowing Through the Elements
This rejuvenating workshop takes you deep into vinyasa flow. The Kripalu methodology allows you to experience vinyasa in a new, empowering way that's both challenging and compassionate. more
Level I: The Essentials of Reconnective Healing Seminar
Experience Reconnective Healing® (RH), a new and evolved level of health, balance, and human potential that requires no technique or rituals. Under the direct guidance of Eric Pearl, discover how you can interact with the Reconnective Healing Frequencies™, learning how to feel, follow, and connect with this all-encompassing spectrum of energy, light, and information. more
Women's Spring Awakening Retreat (Cancelled)
Program cancelled. For all women. Celebrate the sensuality of spring and reawaken the intuitive erotic within. In many ancient cultures, Beltane—midway between the spring equinox and summer solstice—was celebrated in a sacred ceremony honoring and connecting body, earth, and heavens. more
Level I and II: Reconnective Healing
Level I: The Essentials of Reconnective Healing Seminar For everyone. Experience Reconnective Healing® (RH), a new and evolved level of health, balance, and human potential that requires no technique or rituals. more
300-Hour Kripalu Yoga Teacher Training: Instructing Yoga for Special Populations
Yoga for Every Body How we take yoga out into the world and into our classes plays an important part in determining how successful we are as teachers. more
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Level II: Reconnective Healing Foundational Practitioner Program
For those who have completed Level I. The Level II program emphasizes your ownership of this work and how to prepare yourself to offer Reconnective Healing as a profession. more
Dynamic Gentle Yoga: Deep Practice, Gentle Style
Gentle yoga meets you where you are. Dynamic gentle yoga takes you where you want to go. Whatever conditions or limitations you are dealing with, this style helps you create a yoga practice that is just right for your body. more
Introduction to Ayurveda: A Nourishing Self-Care Retreat
Are you interested in Ayurveda but not sure where to start? Presented in partnership with the Kripalu School of Ayurveda, this enlightening and fun retreat draws on the principle that good health is a balanced connection between mind, body, and spirit. more
Revitalizing Cleanse: Nourishing Body, Mind, and Spirit
Revitalize with a nurturing cleanse that offers a balance of nutrition information, lifestyle practices, and mindfulness as a foundation for your whole life. more
SomaSoul Facilitation: The Art of Being
For people who have attended at least one other SomaSoul Training module. SomaSoul® Somatic Expressive Therapy is a mind-body healing modality that integrates the power of Body-Centered Gestalt Psychotherapy with the heart of spiritual practice and the freedom of the expressive arts. more
Soul Motion: The Practice
Soul Motion is a conscious dance practice that encourages students to use dance as creative expression and as dialogue in relationship to self, other, and all. more
Friday, May 8, 2015
Deep Stretching for Tight Bodies and Active Minds
Learn how to let go of stress, release the issues in your tissues, and open your energy centers. Mimi Solaire's approach to deep stretching combines Yin Yoga principles (holding gentle poses), Western stretching methods, pranayama (breathing techniques), and meditation to delicately reengage muscles and disengage unhelpful thoughts. more
Grief Relief: Transforming Your Life After Loss
It's time for you to live life to the fullest again. Discover ways to connect more deeply with a loved one who has passed, as you reconnect with joy. more
Mother-Daughter Yoga Weekend
For women and their daughters (ages 13 and up) at all yoga levels, including beginners. Join Sarahjoy Marsh for a nourishing getaway that celebrates the feminine spirit! more
Reboot: Mindful Springtime Hiking and Deep Yoga Relaxation
Refresh body, mind, and breath with masterful guidance in this magical getaway. Take the time to connect with springtime rhythms in the beautiful Berkshires. more
Sense Writing: Your Way In
Discover your love of writing through your own life stories, whether you're a beginner or a longtime writer struggling with a creative block. Sense Writing, a technique that strengthens the connections among your senses, imagination, and movement, is your way in, fostering new neuronal pathways toward a sustainable creative practice. more
YogArts for Kids
For kids ages 5–12. Calling all kids who love to collect things from nature, do art projects, and make new friends. Come learn yoga, get your face painted, play, walk in the woods, and make fresh discoveries everywhere you go. more
Yoga Tune Up: Level 1 Certification for Yoga, Fitness, and Health-Care Professionals
For movement educators in yoga, Pilates, group fitness, personal training, manual therapy, or clinical practice. Yoga Tune Up is a potent style of movement education that strikes a balance between yoga, fitness, and rehab, attracting students of all ages and body types. more
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Illuminating Your Practice: Yoga and the Alexander Technique
For all levels. Expand into a joyful and powerful yoga practice with new ways to improve your posture, free your breath, and imbue your activities with grace and lightness. more
Swingolf: Dynamic Yoga Motion on the Golf Course
For golfers of all ages and experience. Welcome to a holistic golf approach that incorporates yoga, muscle-opening shiatsu massage, breathing, and an emphasis on mental and physical harmony. more

subset: commoncrawl


text:
At Esxence, Etat Libre d'Orange were showing their recent fragrance True Lust and their latest scent Remarkable People.… [Read More]
by Grant Osborne
Pierre Guillaume show his new collection, and tells Basenotes why he remains fiercely independent… [Read More]
A fresh/musky (initially "laundry") accord of lavender, citrus, powdery woods, mild spices, tonka/tobacco and balsams (vanillin). Cubano Gold is surely (as yet remarked) really close to Le Male but vaguely less freshly musky and more solid,...More
aromatic camphory dark citrus...like the other Bogues , immediately makes me feel like I'm smelling a classic from another era...has some sort of "signature" essense that reminds me of Bogue in general, but I can't quite put my finger on wh...More
Fetish pour Homme (Parfum) opens with a dash of brief bergamot and lime slightly tart citrus before quickly transitioning to its heart. As the composition enters its early heart an emerging cardamom spiced slightly smoky, woody incense-like accord t...More


text:
Thanks for taking the time to report this user.
Your participation helps keep Airbnb a safe and trusted
community, and it doesn't go unnoticed!
my phone nr: (phone number hidden)
or my email fabi_(email hidden).de
Fabienne has completed online and offline ID verification.
Learn more »
Fabienne was a very easy going and respectful guest. She had left the apartment in perfect condition and treated the space and our neighbors with respect. Communication was a breeze, definitely a worthy Airbnb guest, thank you for staying with us!
Fabienne was an interesting guest with lots of things to talk about. I always seem to learn from my guests and Fabienne was no exception. She filled me in with lots of good information about the permaculture course she was doing. She left the room very clean and tidy and was a very respectful guest. She was just like the fairy on her profile picture. I have no hesitation recommending her to any future hosts.


text:
Monthly Horoscope for March 2015
Cash flow could be affected by events quite beyond your control after Saturn stations on 15th. From then, and until the lunar eclipse on April 4th, you may well be affected by world events that challenge you to think about financial matters differently. Yours is a sign known for its love of stability. With Uranus (planet of surprises) reaching key turning points this month, it could feel as though a series of 'hand'-grenades' are going off. It might be as well to anticipate extra expenses anytime from 15th and for the next fortnight. Of course, and for a few, it may be that serious offers are made. If you are into buying and selling, then this could yet prove a month to remember. Certainly if there are items you no longer love or cherish, realising their value through sale could make a real difference to cash flow before the end of the month. A further - and strong- possibility is deciding to invest in improvements (or repairs) that have awaited attention for some years. Re-using, re-vitalising and refurbishment could each play key roles and may be linked to possible changes to your tax position.
If you would like to learn more about planet cycles and global finances, please sign up the free newsletter Click Here for Details


text:
Today's post is a bit different. It's a somewhat intense tale. Get ready. And please don't judge me.
It begins after a good dose of "you can do it D...
Read Whole Story
Once I decided to leave the gym I desperately tried to figure out what would replace it... the class or the boot camp or the activity that would be the right fit now.
So I got my credit card statement yesterday.
Immediately my heartbeat picked up speed. After all, my spending has been a bit... shall we say... activ...
I love the idea of Thanksgiving -- a day to remind us to give thanks, and I wish it were celebrated right across the world. Our lives would be transformed if we got into the habit of giving thanks, not just on one day of the year, but every day.
I have selected 75 phrases that have had a profound impact in my life throughout the years. It is my sincere hope that they will deeply inspire you to reach a higher level of awareness and lasting fulfillment in your life in all the realms.
When I let go of worry about my future with cancer, and focused on healing in the present moment, this also brought peace. Finally, the lesson I longed for was made clear to me by a little boy: the secret to well-being lies in being present!
My future self will have things to tell the present me. Now these aren't going to be the Top Five Regrets of the Dying, because I won't be dying, I will be living a meaningful and fulfilled life. Here is what my experienced, love-filled, wisdom-full self would tell me...
I sat there alone on the cold ground for the next 15 minutes quietly taking notice of every little thing. It's a memory and image I can still recall with vivid detail to this day. It never got any likes and no one knows what it looked like, but I don't care. I like it better that way.
Ours is a society obsessed with FOMO. And yet, many of us miss out on the most important thing of all, our own life. Seems we ought to be worrying less about missing the next party and more about missing existence.
The truth is, though, it's not just the world that's changing around me, it's me, myself and I as well. And while some songs, some people, some places always seem to fit in the best way possible, others I've simply outgrown, as we all do.
I now know if I want to get there that I have to do the things that keep me on course, and I can't do the things that take me off course. Life is expanding. My vision is expanding. I know how to get there -- one step at a time.
This year, I don't want memories. I don't want wishes or goals or resolutions. I don't want the fantasy, the promise of tomorrow. I don't want plans or agenda or deadlines. I don't want excuses. I don't want distractions. I don't want more time. I don't want yesterday. I don't want tomorrow.
The Senate Foreign Relations Committee just voted to approve a resolution to attack Syria on a vote of 10-7. But the breakdown of the voting reveals that this was in no way a party-line vote.
In today's culture we're defined by what we do and how productive we are. Stripped of this we can feel lost and purposeless. We've become human doings instead of human beings. Regaining our joy and purpose in life requires a new relationship with time.
It's summertime, and the living (should be) easy. Too bad the workweek -- with its hectic pace and jam-packed to-do list -- doesn't always cooperate. For most of us, Friday just can't come soon enough.
To fuel our highest level performance we need a clear mind. If the mind is filled with fear, self-sabotaging beliefs, and self-doubt, we are impeded, a bit like driving a car with the brake on. Emotional turmoil clouds our view and we cannot perform well.
Setting goals puts you in the driver's seat, giving you the power to transform your life or take a company into the future. As enticing as that sounds, it is more common than not those goals are abandoned.
There's no sense in wasting time pretending to be someone you're not so that you'll fit in with the people you don't belong with. Life is short, spend it with people who love and appreciate the real you.
A recent wave of nostalgia accompanied by trips back "home", have had me pondering why we sometimes think that what we left behind might contain somet...
I learned to sit on a curbside for hours with my 2-year-old son and feel contentment just by counting the different types of trucks that passed by. I felt delight as I watched them play in the puddles of a pouring rain. I learned to stay in the moment, where children naturally live.
Whether you are feeling guilty or feeling in danger of being guilty as charged, you have effectively removed yourself from the present tense.
Even when we have what we want, we still can't land in this moment. We cling to the illusion that there are indeed a set of circumstances that, once we achieve them, will finally, miraculously make this moment inhabitable.
When it comes to our empty nest, absence will make the heart grow fonder. And when it comes to life in general, I suspect that presence makes the heart grow richer.
Like everything, humans included, technology resolves itself in contradiction. And yet, we must be mindful of what we are doing with technology, particularly when in the company of our children. Our emotional presence is the greatest gift we can offer our children.
We must remember to look up from our screens, not only to avoid getting hit by oncoming traffic but because of the possibilities that looking up offers, and to remind ourselves that we are a part of a much larger matrix of life upon which we all depend.
Get top stories and blog posts emailed to me each day..


text:
Local Veterinarians in Your Area
370 Elmwood Ave, Uxbridge, MA 01569
Southern New England Veterinary Care is a mobile small animal veterinary house call practice. We come to you to provide individual care and attention to your four legged furry friends in the comfort of their own home. Our main goal is to keep all of our pets happy and healthy by working togetherview deal
15 First St, East Providence, RI 02914
VCA Povar Animal Hospital is a full service companion animal hospital where pets are family. It is our commitment to provide quality veterinary care throughout the life of your pet. Our services and facilities are designed to assist in routine preventive care for young, healthy pets; early detectionview deal
907 B Route 32, Uncasville, CT 06382
Montville Animal Hospital is dedicated to giving great service to our patients and their owners. We always try to communicate clearly with the owners of our patients, so that good routine care is provided for the life of the pets. We pride ourselves in delivering high level medical, surgical and
801 Poquonnock Rd, Groton, CT 06340
Does your pet need advanced surgical care? C.V.S.S. offers many advanced surgical procedures. 21st century protocols provide a safe and comfortable experience for your pets. Our anesthetic protocols maintain your pet's blood pressure and minimize stress on the heart, liver and kidneys. Technology


text:
Video: Meet Hank, the cat that's running for Congress
posted at 6:35 pm on February 27, 2012 by Tina Korbe
Want the rats out of Washington? Who better to elect than Hank, a cat that can smell 'em out and will be to quick to pounce on any opportunity to serve his constituents? The nine-year-old street cat wants Virginia's open U.S. Senate seat — and he's challenging former Virginia governors George Allen (R) and Tim Kaine (D) to get it. According to his official campaign materials, he's "a proud Independent" with "real world experience, a unique point of view and limitless energy." Plus, his campaign spot is one of the more positive ads I've seen this cycle, a reminder that America is "the greatest land of all."
The ad I like, but I have a sincere exit question: Do stunts like this one — or Stephen Colbert's campaign in South Carolina — make a mockery of the electoral process or do they provide a little needed levity in the midst of a serious and often discouraging season of politics?
Related Posts:
Breaking on Hot Air
Video: Catholic school requires pre-approval of prom dresses, world melts down
Video: John Boehner and Nancy Pelosi humiliate themselves for your amusement, intentionally this time
Does Bergdahl's torture at Taliban hands count as time served?
Note from Hot Air management: This section is for comments from Hot Air's community of registered readers. Please don't assume that Hot Air management agrees with or otherwise endorses any particular comment just because we let it stand. A reminder: Anyone who fails to comply with our terms of use may lose their posting privilege.


text:
Man's jaw shattered by punch in Carlisle bar
Last updated at 11:19, Thursday, 03 January 2013
A man needed surgery to fix a metal plate in his shattered jaw after a stranger punched him in the face in a Carlisle bar.
Aaron Robert Law, 21, had just removed one of his friends from a minor scuffle on the dancefloor at Walkabout, in Botchergate, when 25-year-old scaffolder Matthew Sanderson struck him without warning.
"By his own admission Mr Law was very drunk – as was everyone else involved," prosecutor Dick Binstead told Carlisle Crown Court.
"He became aware of an incident involving his friend and he intervened to remove him from the fray. The next he remembers is being outside, spitting blood."
Sanderson, of Orton Road, Carlisle, left the scene after talking to a policeman who did not realise he was the man responsible.
He was arrested soon afterwards by two other officers who recognised him from the description of the "distinctive" clothes witnesses said the attacker had been wearing.
Mr Law was taken to hospital with a double fracture to his jaw and needed an operation next day.
He has now recovered, but what happened has left him lacking confidence and "constantly looking over his shoulder when he is out," Mr Binstead said.
Sanderson admitted inflicting grievous bodily harm on him and was given an 18-month prison sentence, suspended for two years. He was also ordered to pay him £1,000 compensation and £250 court costs.
He was also put under a curfew from 7pm to 5am every night for the next four months.
The court heard that after his arrest Sanderson insisted he had not started the violence, though he admitted punching Mr Law after getting caught up in it.
His defence barrister Greg Hoare said Sanderson accepted he could have gone to prison for what he did.
"He knows it was a very unsavoury incident and he accepts there is a price to pay for it," he said.
Passing sentence, Judge Paul Batty QC, the honorary Recorder of Carlisle, said the incident had been fuelled by "the industrial amount of alcohol" Sanderson had consumed.
He told Sanderson: "You were lashing out with your fists and your unfortunate victim was caught in the crossfire."
First published at 11:05, Thursday, 03 January 2013
Published by http://www.newsandstar.co.uk
Have your say
- Carlisle McVitie's staff reject changes to working conditions (76 comments)
- Starlings in Carlisle city centre causing major problems (52 comments)
- 15 people transferred after major incident at north Cumbrian hospitals (100 comments)
- Woods used by 'unsavoury' men for sex chopped down (99 comments)
- Carlisle residents vow to nab speeding drivers (38 comments)
- Unpaid overtime at Cumbrian hospitals rockets (22 comments)
- St Bees School to close (134 comments)
- Battle to recover £500,000 in unpaid council tax in Carlisle (22 comments)
- Row after Cumbrian school refuses to host nuclear meeting (47 comments)
- Carlisle wine shop to close (28 comments)
- Anger over new LED street lighting in Carlisle (60 comments)
Court & crime
Anne Pickles
- Laying charges at hospital doors (4 comments)
- Looks like Yorkshire made a mi-steak with Jeremy Clarkson (6 comments)
- It's just the ticket (2 comments)
- Why Brampton-on-Sea doesn't float my boat
- More Anne Pickles
Quick links
- Woods used by 'unsavoury' men for sex chopped down (99 comments)
- Cumbria council bosses wanted to 'kill' spin doctor story (3 comments)
- Park and ride plan to ease parking problems at Carlisle hospital (23 comments)
- Carlisle has one of 'healthiest' high streets in UK (11 comments)
- Woods used by 'unsavoury' men for sex chopped down (99 comments)
- St Bees School to close (134 comments)
- Carlisle McVitie's staff reject changes to working conditions (76 comments)
- 15 people transferred after major incident at north Cumbrian hospitals (100 comments)
- Row erupts in Carlisle over £80 fines for not using gullsacks (66 comments)


text:
Events for September 16, 2014
Toronto Beer Week
When: From 09/12/2014 to 09/20/2014
- Tumblr
- Facebook
Curious as to what wine to order with your meal? Learn from @TrumpPanama Hotel'...Read More
- Twitter
RT @NickDallman: @realDonaldTrump Toronto's Trump Tower is stunning. Definitely one of my favourite spots in the city.Read More
- Google+
- YouTube
Trump Suite 3506Read More
- TripAdvisor


text:
Properties in Northwich, Cheshire between £650,000 and £700,000
- News feed
- Find us on Twitter
All the latest news and views from the Crewe Guardian
- Find us on Facebook
Crewe Guardian
Like us on Facebook
Properties in Northwich, Cheshire
Gallery view List view Map view 6 properties found
- Print Page
- Share Results
£650,000 3 Bedrooms Cogshall Lane, Comberbach, Northwich, Cheshire CW9
This is a fantastic opportunity to purchase a property that offers excellent potential for development (subject to the necessary planning consent) land is currently being used as equestrian facilities, subject to planning part of the land could be convert
Bridgfords - Northwich
£650,000 5 Bedrooms Mill Lane Kingsley
SUMMARY This attractive Victorian former farmhouse has been enhanced by the present owners emphasising its character and style to create a spacious family home. The property comprises of three formal reception rooms, a comprehensive and well equipped ki
Wright Marshall Northwich
£675,000 Under Offer 6 Bedrooms Norley Road, Cuddington
A large imposing period semi detached family house and two building plots, the house with lovely features including some wonderful oak panelling and a fine staircase, boasting 4000 square feet of accommodation over two floors, situated amongst wonderful m
Stuart Rushton & Co
£695,000 Sold STC 5 Bedrooms Abbey Lane, Northwich
A sympathetically extended and beautifully designed detached bungalow offering spacious, flexible accommodation. appointed to the highest standard throughout with solid Oak doors, 'Amtico' flooring, wood burning stove, whirlpool bath, zero threshold bi-fo
Gascoigne Halman - Stockton Heath
£695,000 6 Bedrooms Chester Road, Northwich
A stunning period built detached house which includes a one bed detached Coach House in all providing spacious family living accommodation throughout. Occupying a fantastic plot and position this property is offered for sale with NO CHAIN. The property be
Wright Marshall Northwich
£699,950 4 Bedrooms Heath Lane, Great Budworth
A most attractive detached country residence, situated in an delightful rural location on the edge of one of the counties prettiest villages, enjoying elevated views beyond the beautiful landscaped gardens across neighbouring farmland.
Entrance hall, s
Entrance hall, s
Stuart Rushton & Co
- Print Page
- Share Results
Moving House?
Local businesses here to help you:
- Banks and Building Societies
- Car & Van Hire
- Electrical Appliances
- Flooring
- Furniture
- Insurance Services
- Mortgages
- Removals
- Solicitors
- Storage
- TV Aerials
- All Businesses
Local advertisers


text:
Quality Hotel Airport (South)
7228 Westminster Highway
Richmond, BC V6X 1A1
Phone: (604) 244-3051
Fax: (604) 244-3081
Vanier Park
This is the best place in the city to fly a kite or watch talented people fly them with grace and finesse. Visitors can marvel at the skyward fancy loops, swirls and dips by the seashore. This large park located five minutes from downtown, is home to the Vancouver Museum, Vancouver Maritime Museum, Pacific Space Centre and Gordon Southam Observatory. Views of downtown and the water make this a place to sit and quietly observe. It's also home to the summer's Bard on the Beach and Children's Festival.
1000 Chestnut Street
Vancouver, BC V6J 3J9
+1 604 257 8400
Earn valuable points toward free nights.


text:
Many Americans have seen much of their wealth vanish in the past 4 yrs as a severe recession and widespread joblessness have vaporized trillions.
As we head toward the end of the year, now's a good time to see if your finances are on track.
As retailers head toward the holidays, they have
reason to be optimistic: Months of solid sales are expected to continue through year-end.
The WH issued a new assessment that predicted continued high
unemployment for the rest of this year and all of 2012.
Secured cards are a good steppingstone for credit-challenged consumers. Unlike a traditional credit card, these require a cash deposit.
Taxpayers bailed out much of the U.S. auto industry. Now the carmakers
might be what saves the nation's economy from falling back into
The tiny ripples caused by consumers closing their wallets
have built to a tsunami for a nat'l economy that is dependent on consumer spending.
President Obama on Thursday described
the debt debate in Washington as a symptom of a broken political system
that puts party before country.
You may have heard the stories. Someone loses thousands of dollars by
someone hacking their online bank account. So how safe is online
banking? Since online banking debuted, banks have become more and more
The Obama administration and other countries have had a similar response to the downgrade of the U.S. credit
rating: attacking the