THEFT, VAN AKEN BOULEVARD: A male suspect stole six lobster tails, $120, from Fresh Market, 20233 Van Aken, Friday.
DISPUTE, ROUTE 82: Officers helped to calm down an upset Brunswick woman on July 5. The elderly woman was upset because her veterinarian had not saved her dog’s teeth after he pulled them.
SUSPICIOUS SITUATION, MEADOW LANE: A Strongsville man was advised by police last Thursday evening after he got a little too emotional about LeBron James’ defection to the Miami Heat.
A scared resident called police at 11 p.m. because she heard a man yelling in the woods behind her home. The woman told police the man sounded like he was in distress.
When police arrived, they found the Strongsville man in an agitated state. He was highly intoxicated and he said he was upset about James’ decision to leave the Cleveland Cavaliers. Police advised the man to go home and calm down.
STREET VENDING, PEARL ROAD: A Strongsville man was advised last Thursday for trying to sell anti-LeBron James T-shirts.
The man, who works for an anti-James Web site, had set up a booth at the former Quality Catering site to sell T-shirts. The man was told that he must have a vendor’s permit to sell items in Strongsville.
EBAY THEFT: A 1966 Batman Milk advertising sign was stolen via eBay from a Forest Meadows Dr. resident. The item is valued at $160.49.
SOLICITOR COMPLAINTS, PIN OAK DRIVE: A woman called police July 13 to complain about a solicitor. The woman said the man was very pushy, and was asking for her date of birth and Social Security number. The man was selling alarm systems, and he asked to come into the woman’s house to look at her current alarm system. Officers spoke to the man and told him if they received one more complaint about him, his solicitor’s permit would be revoked. On Thursday, officers received another complaint about the same solicitor. He was once again very pushy, and told a resident thieves would break into her home if she did not buy an alarm system from him. Officers revoked the man’s solicitation permit.
HARASSMENT, TYNDALL FALLS: A woman called police July 14 after receiving a strange phone call. The woman said the caller claimed he was from Pakistan and asked her about her fire alarm system. The man then said he was going to drop a bomb on the United States. Police are investigating.
HARASSMENT, RIDGELINE COURT: A resident reported July 20 that he received a disturbing spam e-mail. The e-mail from “Don Gunshot” threatened to kill the man unless he paid them off. The e-mail said that if the man didn’t cough up $5,000 “Don Gunshot” would pay a final visit to his home.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
little miracles
I get frustrated with the system, the way that corruption is so rife, the institutional racism so inherent, the way that people get screwed that it's hard for me to put things in perspective, to realize that God is so much bigger than all this.
I look at the odds and wonder how could anything happen, and I read the psalms which all seemed to deal with pleading with God to deliver him from injustice, oppression, and enemies who seek to destroy life and almost always end with praise and thankfulness even in the worst circumstances.
Case after case comes up, and I noticed that the police that hassled us weren't there. The public defender loves his photos and says he'd buy them they're so good, and the judge said the same thing, and that while the act is criminal on the books, there was nothing criminal about making art and the beauty of documenting the city.
I can't believe I'm hearing this and I almost want to cry to see vindication when I thought there would be none.
And so we celebrate with a pair of Lazizas on the back porch, chill by the lake, tell the people we care about, and now the waiting continues. I wonder what the outcome will be for me next week.
I was in a weird state of being emotionally drained and hyped up and didn't want to be at home, so I walked down the West Park part of Lorain avenue shooting photos of bodegas, storefront churches, and Arabic shops much to the bemusement of the people hanging out on the street, and then called a friend of mine who's always up for a walk to see if she wanted to explore Tremont with me.
We walked down by Sokolowski's where the view of the city and the Flats is near perfect and then up through the main streets. We've both been dealing with a lot of the same things, questioning our relationship with our art, our relationships with others and ourselves as women who create.
Some of this will always be a struggle, to deal with honing our craft and the screwy business of art, to create beauty and realize that we are beautiful too even when the rest of the world doesn't see it.
I look at the odds and wonder how could anything happen, and I read the psalms which all seemed to deal with pleading with God to deliver him from injustice, oppression, and enemies who seek to destroy life and almost always end with praise and thankfulness even in the worst circumstances.
Case after case comes up, and I noticed that the police that hassled us weren't there. The public defender loves his photos and says he'd buy them they're so good, and the judge said the same thing, and that while the act is criminal on the books, there was nothing criminal about making art and the beauty of documenting the city.
I can't believe I'm hearing this and I almost want to cry to see vindication when I thought there would be none.
And so we celebrate with a pair of Lazizas on the back porch, chill by the lake, tell the people we care about, and now the waiting continues. I wonder what the outcome will be for me next week.
I was in a weird state of being emotionally drained and hyped up and didn't want to be at home, so I walked down the West Park part of Lorain avenue shooting photos of bodegas, storefront churches, and Arabic shops much to the bemusement of the people hanging out on the street, and then called a friend of mine who's always up for a walk to see if she wanted to explore Tremont with me.
We walked down by Sokolowski's where the view of the city and the Flats is near perfect and then up through the main streets. We've both been dealing with a lot of the same things, questioning our relationship with our art, our relationships with others and ourselves as women who create.
Some of this will always be a struggle, to deal with honing our craft and the screwy business of art, to create beauty and realize that we are beautiful too even when the rest of the world doesn't see it.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
wind and water
we went again to Edgewater, waited for someone else to show up who didn't, and went down to the other beach, where there was spraypaint on the jettys and a bus full of crusty punks and their dogs and great photos to be taken.
The colors were so beautiful and intense I knew I couldn't capture them with my Canon's limited lens, but tried anyway, because sometimes I have gotten lucky and more and more I have some clue what I'm doing, with better ways of seeing and looking at things. He explains "See, photography and kung fu really aren't all that different..."
I loved the way the wind felt, the purple grey blue of the sky and the deep silvered aquamarine color of the water. I'll never have money but if I could, I'd live next to a large body of water with waves, so I could watch the storms come in, let the water kiss my feet as I walk up the beach, stumble down the rocks looking for beach glass to sit on the abandoned picnic tables at the end by the cliffs where the shale is perfect for skipping stones across the waves. I turn into a damn hippie every time I go there and I have no shame.
We could see the rain coming across the lake and when it finally hit it was like a baptism, washing away the sand and the crushed shells of zebra mussels off my skin.
It was just too beautiful out to go home so we took the new Roots album on a drive along the lake as the heat lightning flashed and there was nothing to say, just the windows rolled down and the radio on. It's been a long time since I've had an epic Cleveland drive and I needed one.
This weekend was nonstop things all the time, helping people move, baby shower, meeting up in Berea with an old friend for Thai food, walks downtown, and conversation, hanging out at Edgewater again on Sunday, and painting. I've got two more weeks of class but my works in progress are starting to look interesting.
Also, evidently the visiting church group wants to buy some of my photos to take back to rural Minnesota with them, so I'll be printing up some of my graffiti shots and a few other Cleveland/rust belt-ish looking ones that might look nice on somebody's wall. I never thought anyone would like my work that much, but it'll help offset the costs I'll incur when I find out how much I owe the city of Cleveland for my youthful indiscretions.
The colors were so beautiful and intense I knew I couldn't capture them with my Canon's limited lens, but tried anyway, because sometimes I have gotten lucky and more and more I have some clue what I'm doing, with better ways of seeing and looking at things. He explains "See, photography and kung fu really aren't all that different..."
I loved the way the wind felt, the purple grey blue of the sky and the deep silvered aquamarine color of the water. I'll never have money but if I could, I'd live next to a large body of water with waves, so I could watch the storms come in, let the water kiss my feet as I walk up the beach, stumble down the rocks looking for beach glass to sit on the abandoned picnic tables at the end by the cliffs where the shale is perfect for skipping stones across the waves. I turn into a damn hippie every time I go there and I have no shame.
We could see the rain coming across the lake and when it finally hit it was like a baptism, washing away the sand and the crushed shells of zebra mussels off my skin.
It was just too beautiful out to go home so we took the new Roots album on a drive along the lake as the heat lightning flashed and there was nothing to say, just the windows rolled down and the radio on. It's been a long time since I've had an epic Cleveland drive and I needed one.
This weekend was nonstop things all the time, helping people move, baby shower, meeting up in Berea with an old friend for Thai food, walks downtown, and conversation, hanging out at Edgewater again on Sunday, and painting. I've got two more weeks of class but my works in progress are starting to look interesting.
Also, evidently the visiting church group wants to buy some of my photos to take back to rural Minnesota with them, so I'll be printing up some of my graffiti shots and a few other Cleveland/rust belt-ish looking ones that might look nice on somebody's wall. I never thought anyone would like my work that much, but it'll help offset the costs I'll incur when I find out how much I owe the city of Cleveland for my youthful indiscretions.
Friday, July 23, 2010
don't talk of love, I've heard the word before...
I don't mind being alone when I know that life is not total solitude.
I came home last night, took a nap, made curry for dinner from the leftover staff party shrimp that I cam home with, worked through Sunday's music, and worked on art projects til midnight. I've got a stack of CDs next to the boombox, the red candles from the corner store burning, I'm comfortable in an old tank top from my first year of college and paint-stained jeans, mixing paints, laying down layers of gel, rearranging.
I'm in the same mode I've been in since high school, when everyone else was out drinking or doing whatever People My Age do, I was creating.
I've never felt confident in the art that I do until the last year or so. When I was in my teens, I had no car and couldn't afford art supplies so I cut up old National Geographics and collaged with them. Some of them looked amazing and some of them didn't, but it helped me learn about color and aesthetics. My first year away from home in the middle of nowhere was spent mixing oil paints and listening to the Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana, walking back to the dorm at night with smears of paint on my face, in an oversized black hoodie looking like I'd gone crazy. I had to throw out all my clothes that year when I moved home because the oil paint destroyed them all.
And then in Kent, I gave up on being an art student, wrote papers about Jane Austen and Chaucer, and spent my weekends playing old U2 and Pixies records and 'London Calling" countless times, covering the walls in pieces painted in gouache on brown paper, doodled with Sharpie, scrawled poetry and longings. It was here when I discovered that people actually liked what I made, and I made birthday gifts on illustration board, rendering abstract designs and fragments of my favorite poems with Prismacolor pencils, magic markers, and collage.
Now all these years of consistent practice to free myself of mediocrity are behind me and I wish there were more hours late at night when I didn't need to sleep and I could transpose the Cafe Caribe-induced visions in my head onto canvas and paper, use the knowledge I've gained in photography and painting to finally actualize.
I finally feel okay with being 'an artist' in the sense that I see more and more that I have the ability to create what I want to make, and because I continue to seek out and learn how to hone my craft and soak in all the goodness I can.
I've got my books and poetry to protect me, and because that wasn't enough to hide behind, I've got my art and my music. I can't sing unless I have a guitar in my hands. The guitar was my first liberation into finding a niche in the complicated world of social interaction, and it's also a crutch and a shield for those times when I talk with my hands too much.
The painting fills up my time, and lets all the colors and thoughts in my imagination out into something that I can touch, that brings pleasure to my eyes. I got over the fear of messing up when I realized that gesso spraypaint works wonders to cover up the bad spots. The paint is the place of loneliness, while photography is the window to the world, an interaction and a fresh encounter.
But it's a scary place to be in at the same time, because this is always where I'm been at and what others have defined me by. It's easy to hide behind the creative process to make the nights alone hurt less, to say "I don't need anyone," to pretend that it doesn't bother me when the phone doesn't ring because I'm already doing something, to wonder if things will ever change, and if I even want them to.
It's easy to be "that artsy girl" or "that girl who knows a lot," but it's hard for others to get beyond that and see that what we do so often is only a part of and not the complete picture of who we are.
I came home last night, took a nap, made curry for dinner from the leftover staff party shrimp that I cam home with, worked through Sunday's music, and worked on art projects til midnight. I've got a stack of CDs next to the boombox, the red candles from the corner store burning, I'm comfortable in an old tank top from my first year of college and paint-stained jeans, mixing paints, laying down layers of gel, rearranging.
I'm in the same mode I've been in since high school, when everyone else was out drinking or doing whatever People My Age do, I was creating.
I've never felt confident in the art that I do until the last year or so. When I was in my teens, I had no car and couldn't afford art supplies so I cut up old National Geographics and collaged with them. Some of them looked amazing and some of them didn't, but it helped me learn about color and aesthetics. My first year away from home in the middle of nowhere was spent mixing oil paints and listening to the Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana, walking back to the dorm at night with smears of paint on my face, in an oversized black hoodie looking like I'd gone crazy. I had to throw out all my clothes that year when I moved home because the oil paint destroyed them all.
And then in Kent, I gave up on being an art student, wrote papers about Jane Austen and Chaucer, and spent my weekends playing old U2 and Pixies records and 'London Calling" countless times, covering the walls in pieces painted in gouache on brown paper, doodled with Sharpie, scrawled poetry and longings. It was here when I discovered that people actually liked what I made, and I made birthday gifts on illustration board, rendering abstract designs and fragments of my favorite poems with Prismacolor pencils, magic markers, and collage.
Now all these years of consistent practice to free myself of mediocrity are behind me and I wish there were more hours late at night when I didn't need to sleep and I could transpose the Cafe Caribe-induced visions in my head onto canvas and paper, use the knowledge I've gained in photography and painting to finally actualize.
I finally feel okay with being 'an artist' in the sense that I see more and more that I have the ability to create what I want to make, and because I continue to seek out and learn how to hone my craft and soak in all the goodness I can.
I've got my books and poetry to protect me, and because that wasn't enough to hide behind, I've got my art and my music. I can't sing unless I have a guitar in my hands. The guitar was my first liberation into finding a niche in the complicated world of social interaction, and it's also a crutch and a shield for those times when I talk with my hands too much.
The painting fills up my time, and lets all the colors and thoughts in my imagination out into something that I can touch, that brings pleasure to my eyes. I got over the fear of messing up when I realized that gesso spraypaint works wonders to cover up the bad spots. The paint is the place of loneliness, while photography is the window to the world, an interaction and a fresh encounter.
But it's a scary place to be in at the same time, because this is always where I'm been at and what others have defined me by. It's easy to hide behind the creative process to make the nights alone hurt less, to say "I don't need anyone," to pretend that it doesn't bother me when the phone doesn't ring because I'm already doing something, to wonder if things will ever change, and if I even want them to.
It's easy to be "that artsy girl" or "that girl who knows a lot," but it's hard for others to get beyond that and see that what we do so often is only a part of and not the complete picture of who we are.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
this land was made for you and me.
So on one of my many photography trips, we got in trouble with the police for being in an old building in a sketchy part of town. Usually they let you off with a warning if they see you mean no harm but the powers that be evidently don't look favorably upon what they perceive to be an interracial couple hanging out in a seedy part of town "taking pictures," because of course that can't be all it is. Thus, I'll be generating more revenue for the city, and have a whole lot of hassle in the coming months.
Ironic that my friend's dance company did a photo shoot in another abandoned place in the same neighborhood and the cops came by and said nothing and that there's an exhibit of photos just like the ones we took at the Akron Art Museum showcasing the past glory of Detroit.
Unlike the object of my previously frustrated post, my proverbial and evidently literal partner in crime isn't mad at me for complicating his life and we're still hanging out and taking photos, if anything more inspired by the frustration. We were sorely tempted by the abandoned coast guard station and walked all the way down the rocks past the marina to where it was just stones and water. It was beautiful and perfect out there.
The light was so beautiful and we were just soaking in the glow and the sound of the waves and amused by the people watching before going back to the apartment to meet up with another friend and sit out on the deck all night drinking Lazizas and Jamaican sodas while the little girl next door kept popping her head over the fence to talk to us.
Saturday I hung out with my mom in the morning, went to the art museum again and a carnival with Lindsay, developed photos at Walgreens and then drove around taking pictures of bridges and weird purple clouds as the storm rolled in over the lake. I love the way it looks.
Drove out to the International Folk Festival at Wade Oval to watch Polish dancing that I don't know how to do, and traditional Liberian and Chinese performances.
We developed a lot of pictures to defend ourselves with and went to Angelo's for pizza since everywhere else was closed. Since it's across the street I stopped by to see Charles at My Mind's Eye and he hooked us up with tickets for Sharon Jones, which is awesome. Definitely looking forward to that. I played a bunch of her songs tonight and found that I'd never really listened to the lyrics of "This Land is Your Land" no matter how many times my dad played it when I was growing up.
THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND
words and music by Woody Guthrie
Chorus:
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me
I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me
The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me
As I was walkin' - I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no trespassin'
But on the other side .... it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!
In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.
Ironic that my friend's dance company did a photo shoot in another abandoned place in the same neighborhood and the cops came by and said nothing and that there's an exhibit of photos just like the ones we took at the Akron Art Museum showcasing the past glory of Detroit.
Unlike the object of my previously frustrated post, my proverbial and evidently literal partner in crime isn't mad at me for complicating his life and we're still hanging out and taking photos, if anything more inspired by the frustration. We were sorely tempted by the abandoned coast guard station and walked all the way down the rocks past the marina to where it was just stones and water. It was beautiful and perfect out there.
The light was so beautiful and we were just soaking in the glow and the sound of the waves and amused by the people watching before going back to the apartment to meet up with another friend and sit out on the deck all night drinking Lazizas and Jamaican sodas while the little girl next door kept popping her head over the fence to talk to us.
Saturday I hung out with my mom in the morning, went to the art museum again and a carnival with Lindsay, developed photos at Walgreens and then drove around taking pictures of bridges and weird purple clouds as the storm rolled in over the lake. I love the way it looks.
Drove out to the International Folk Festival at Wade Oval to watch Polish dancing that I don't know how to do, and traditional Liberian and Chinese performances.
We developed a lot of pictures to defend ourselves with and went to Angelo's for pizza since everywhere else was closed. Since it's across the street I stopped by to see Charles at My Mind's Eye and he hooked us up with tickets for Sharon Jones, which is awesome. Definitely looking forward to that. I played a bunch of her songs tonight and found that I'd never really listened to the lyrics of "This Land is Your Land" no matter how many times my dad played it when I was growing up.
THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND
words and music by Woody Guthrie
Chorus:
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me
I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me
The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me
As I was walkin' - I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no trespassin'
But on the other side .... it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!
In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
what can you do
I understand that there are a lot of things about life that aren't fair, that people like to feel superior to each other, put other people down on an interpersonal and societal level. I would guess that this is human nature, because it seems like it has gone on as long as we've existed.
And it's frustrating to see how it corrodes relationships in real life. You'd think that people would have moved on from a lot of this, or just because you exist in the same space you could learn to see the humanity in each other instead of making judgments.
I knew someone once who told me that every time he sees older white people he wonders if they're racist and it didn't hit me until later how wrong that was. Maybe they are, maybe they're not, and I'm sure there's more racist older people than younger, but how do you go through life like that?
What if I said, every time I see a young black male I assume I'm going to get mugged?
Seriously now. It's wrong no matter what group you generalize.
Needless to say, we're not friends anymore, but since our circles intersect, I have to learn how to interact with someone who has written me off by the color of my skin rather than the person I am and it's hard as anything, even after they should know you long enough to know better, and it's hard to see how I'm treated as opposed to the others around me, and how pointed it is that I am on the outs.
And I know this is nothing compared to what others deal with on a daily basis, but still, it's not cool. It's not fun to be the scapegoat for everything bad that every single person did to you because not everything is what others have done, it's what you've done with it. Yes, people may have screwed you over, but that doesn't mean they have to keep you down. It doesn't mean that most of us are trying to keep you down. Most of us are just trying to get by too.
I grew up in a somewhat culturally homogeneous area with a lot of other grandkids of eastern European immigrants. We weren't WASP and we weren't as marginalized as other groups, but we all ate variations of the same meat and potatoes and had unpronounceable names and were looked down on as being solidly working class and therefore ignorant. None of us really had any social standing of any kind, and existed within ourselves, so much of this kind of thing was abstract and most social dynamics had to do with who was upwardly mobile and who was weird and who was static.
So all this is new to me. I'm playing cultural catchup all the time so bear with me. And yes, I screw up, but I am willing to learn. I am ready to listen. I am willing to be in awkward situations, I want to hear your story and where you come from. I will eat any food placed in front of me. I will go to the places you hang out even if I stick out utterly and completely as not belonging.
And in turn, all I ask is this. Be willing to get beyond what you think you know just as I have had to do. No group is monolithic. Don't assume that I don't know what you're talking about, don't let your past history get in the way of the present situation. Don't say it's racist when it's not. Don't generalize about my people to me and lump me in with them when we hit a rough spot. Yes, there are lousy people everywhere regardless of ethnicity or class, but not because of those things, and if you can't get past that, it's your problem.
And it's frustrating to see how it corrodes relationships in real life. You'd think that people would have moved on from a lot of this, or just because you exist in the same space you could learn to see the humanity in each other instead of making judgments.
I knew someone once who told me that every time he sees older white people he wonders if they're racist and it didn't hit me until later how wrong that was. Maybe they are, maybe they're not, and I'm sure there's more racist older people than younger, but how do you go through life like that?
What if I said, every time I see a young black male I assume I'm going to get mugged?
Seriously now. It's wrong no matter what group you generalize.
Needless to say, we're not friends anymore, but since our circles intersect, I have to learn how to interact with someone who has written me off by the color of my skin rather than the person I am and it's hard as anything, even after they should know you long enough to know better, and it's hard to see how I'm treated as opposed to the others around me, and how pointed it is that I am on the outs.
And I know this is nothing compared to what others deal with on a daily basis, but still, it's not cool. It's not fun to be the scapegoat for everything bad that every single person did to you because not everything is what others have done, it's what you've done with it. Yes, people may have screwed you over, but that doesn't mean they have to keep you down. It doesn't mean that most of us are trying to keep you down. Most of us are just trying to get by too.
I grew up in a somewhat culturally homogeneous area with a lot of other grandkids of eastern European immigrants. We weren't WASP and we weren't as marginalized as other groups, but we all ate variations of the same meat and potatoes and had unpronounceable names and were looked down on as being solidly working class and therefore ignorant. None of us really had any social standing of any kind, and existed within ourselves, so much of this kind of thing was abstract and most social dynamics had to do with who was upwardly mobile and who was weird and who was static.
So all this is new to me. I'm playing cultural catchup all the time so bear with me. And yes, I screw up, but I am willing to learn. I am ready to listen. I am willing to be in awkward situations, I want to hear your story and where you come from. I will eat any food placed in front of me. I will go to the places you hang out even if I stick out utterly and completely as not belonging.
And in turn, all I ask is this. Be willing to get beyond what you think you know just as I have had to do. No group is monolithic. Don't assume that I don't know what you're talking about, don't let your past history get in the way of the present situation. Don't say it's racist when it's not. Don't generalize about my people to me and lump me in with them when we hit a rough spot. Yes, there are lousy people everywhere regardless of ethnicity or class, but not because of those things, and if you can't get past that, it's your problem.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
bright lights
This weekend's gone so much better than the last. It helps to have no expectations and anticipations and see what happens.
I walk the dog and come back to a missed call from one of my picture taking crew who's thankfully isn't blaming me for ruining his pristine record and we kept it legit, shooting photos of the funwall, the bridges, walked over the Abbey bridge and down the hill from Tremont before heading over to Edgewater as the sun set and the water was this deep epic blue as the sky burned red and orange.
We got some amazing shots and I learned more about how to use my camera but I couldn't help stiffening every time a police car went by.
Stopped over to see my mom in the morning, came back and got some groceries and snarky comments at the African/Caribbean mart where I ran into Alex and the other Burundians who reminded me that "only foreigners shop here," as I loaded up on plantains, hot sauce from Barbados, Jamaican grapefruit pops, and ginger tea.
The Our Lady of Mount Carmel Italian festival/carnival was going on tonight so I rode my bike down there to observe the festivities, which did not disappoint. Found it a bit ironic that the raffle item this year was Lady Gaga tickets but I did get to take pictures of carnies, witness a dance-off, which was very entertaining and everyone there looked really Italian, and watching teenagers interact with each other made me so glad I'm not their age anymore.
Pope Benedict was there too, hanging out next to the Freedom Fries.
And might as well throw Martina Topley-Bird, Tricky's muse in there too.
Sunday was hanging out with good people watching the World Cup final and going to my cousin's graduation party out in the exurbs. I have culture shock every time I go out that far away from the city, it's such a different world than the one around me.
I was frustrated this week because I sometimes wish that life wouldn't be as crazy as it is, that other people my age are buying houses and taking their kids to t-ball games while I'm doing whatever I'm doing, but then, well, I guess I wouldn't have as many stories to tell, would I?
I walk the dog and come back to a missed call from one of my picture taking crew who's thankfully isn't blaming me for ruining his pristine record and we kept it legit, shooting photos of the funwall, the bridges, walked over the Abbey bridge and down the hill from Tremont before heading over to Edgewater as the sun set and the water was this deep epic blue as the sky burned red and orange.
We got some amazing shots and I learned more about how to use my camera but I couldn't help stiffening every time a police car went by.
Stopped over to see my mom in the morning, came back and got some groceries and snarky comments at the African/Caribbean mart where I ran into Alex and the other Burundians who reminded me that "only foreigners shop here," as I loaded up on plantains, hot sauce from Barbados, Jamaican grapefruit pops, and ginger tea.
The Our Lady of Mount Carmel Italian festival/carnival was going on tonight so I rode my bike down there to observe the festivities, which did not disappoint. Found it a bit ironic that the raffle item this year was Lady Gaga tickets but I did get to take pictures of carnies, witness a dance-off, which was very entertaining and everyone there looked really Italian, and watching teenagers interact with each other made me so glad I'm not their age anymore.
Pope Benedict was there too, hanging out next to the Freedom Fries.
And might as well throw Martina Topley-Bird, Tricky's muse in there too.
Sunday was hanging out with good people watching the World Cup final and going to my cousin's graduation party out in the exurbs. I have culture shock every time I go out that far away from the city, it's such a different world than the one around me.
I was frustrated this week because I sometimes wish that life wouldn't be as crazy as it is, that other people my age are buying houses and taking their kids to t-ball games while I'm doing whatever I'm doing, but then, well, I guess I wouldn't have as many stories to tell, would I?
Friday, July 9, 2010
so this is the aftermath
So I was not glued to my tv set last night unlike most residents of my beloved city.
I love watching basketball and I loved watching someone really good play for my city's team. But he's not from here, he's from Akron. His favorite teams are the ones that win, which is why he's a Yankees fan.
I knew he wasn't going to stay, and I was apathetic about it. After being a kid and watching the Indians lose the World Series twice I've emotionally disengaged myself from Cleveland sports. I can't remember a time when we weren't losing, and it's almost just an accepted fact. I cheer for Detroit teams when they're not playing us because they're another depressed rust belt city too, and I feel for them.
If anything, this whole thing just made me laugh, from the embarrassments of the "We Are Lebron" and "More than a Player" absurdity to the huge diss of a press conference and then Dan Gilbert's hilariously juvenile rant in 16pt Comic Sans font. But then again, I thought everyone was losers when they were whining about Modell leaving town and we built a gigantic stadium that sits empty for all but 10 times a year.
We are not Lebron. We're a messed up city with an astounding array of people with many abilities but we often expect some kind of deus ex machina action from our athletic demi-gods. And I'm glad to see Dan Gilbert get mad, because he regurgitates everything wrong about the way people think this city should be run.
I'm sick of hearing about our wonderful downtown core with its potential for casinos and medical marts and such that cater to people who wouldn't waste their time here, who have nothing to do with those of us who live and work here.
But I digress, it was a wonderful night. I walked the dog I'm taking care of, met some of the neighbor kids, and the Liberian family that lives around the corner whose kids I've met but don't really know invited me over for dinner. I sat with them outside, meeting family members, eating rice and greens on living room chairs put out in the driveway. No one talked about basketball but I was invited to a wedding and an African-style cookout party at Edgewater.
I realized I didn't even know what time the thing was at until I was on an elevator to my friend's apartment on the east side and people were talking about it. But we hung out in the kitchen and talked and laughed about other things. This is something only Americans care about, and the rest of the world goes on regardless.
There is so much life that goes on that has nothing to do with moods and whimsies of multimillionaires that we miss out on so frequently.
This has been one of the most messed-up weeks I've ever had, but Lebron is the least of it. We will go on living and surviving because that's what we do.
I love watching basketball and I loved watching someone really good play for my city's team. But he's not from here, he's from Akron. His favorite teams are the ones that win, which is why he's a Yankees fan.
I knew he wasn't going to stay, and I was apathetic about it. After being a kid and watching the Indians lose the World Series twice I've emotionally disengaged myself from Cleveland sports. I can't remember a time when we weren't losing, and it's almost just an accepted fact. I cheer for Detroit teams when they're not playing us because they're another depressed rust belt city too, and I feel for them.
If anything, this whole thing just made me laugh, from the embarrassments of the "We Are Lebron" and "More than a Player" absurdity to the huge diss of a press conference and then Dan Gilbert's hilariously juvenile rant in 16pt Comic Sans font. But then again, I thought everyone was losers when they were whining about Modell leaving town and we built a gigantic stadium that sits empty for all but 10 times a year.
We are not Lebron. We're a messed up city with an astounding array of people with many abilities but we often expect some kind of deus ex machina action from our athletic demi-gods. And I'm glad to see Dan Gilbert get mad, because he regurgitates everything wrong about the way people think this city should be run.
I'm sick of hearing about our wonderful downtown core with its potential for casinos and medical marts and such that cater to people who wouldn't waste their time here, who have nothing to do with those of us who live and work here.
But I digress, it was a wonderful night. I walked the dog I'm taking care of, met some of the neighbor kids, and the Liberian family that lives around the corner whose kids I've met but don't really know invited me over for dinner. I sat with them outside, meeting family members, eating rice and greens on living room chairs put out in the driveway. No one talked about basketball but I was invited to a wedding and an African-style cookout party at Edgewater.
I realized I didn't even know what time the thing was at until I was on an elevator to my friend's apartment on the east side and people were talking about it. But we hung out in the kitchen and talked and laughed about other things. This is something only Americans care about, and the rest of the world goes on regardless.
There is so much life that goes on that has nothing to do with moods and whimsies of multimillionaires that we miss out on so frequently.
This has been one of the most messed-up weeks I've ever had, but Lebron is the least of it. We will go on living and surviving because that's what we do.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
best of the blotter 24: summertime....
ATTEMPTED ROBBERY, CUMBERLAND ROAD: A boy, 14, said two young men approached him, pointed what appeared to be a handgun in his face, and told him to empty his pockets July 1 at Cumberland Park, 1740 Cumberland. But after the boy noticed a sticker on the side of the gun that indicated it was a toy, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and the suspects fled on foot.
JUVENILE COMPLAINT, MALLARD DRIVE: A resident reported July 1 that some youths on an apartment building roof were spray-painting something.
Responding officers spoke with some children who were not spray-painting anything but admitted to kicking pears off the roof.
MISCHIEF, MARKS ROAD: A resident reported June 29 that someone threw a water balloon that hit him on the head while he was driving.
The man believed a boy he saw standing in a driveway threw the balloon.
DOMESTIC DISPUTE, PROGRESS DRIVE: Police advised two brothers to “grow up” on June 30 after they got into a punching match over ice cream.
The brothers got into an argument about which one of them ate some ice cream earlier in the week. One brother called police after the argument degenerated into a pushing and shoving match.
"Summer in the city such a very special time
If you put aside the traffic, air-pollution and the grime...
JUVENILE COMPLAINT, MALLARD DRIVE: A resident reported July 1 that some youths on an apartment building roof were spray-painting something.
Responding officers spoke with some children who were not spray-painting anything but admitted to kicking pears off the roof.
MISCHIEF, MARKS ROAD: A resident reported June 29 that someone threw a water balloon that hit him on the head while he was driving.
The man believed a boy he saw standing in a driveway threw the balloon.
DOMESTIC DISPUTE, PROGRESS DRIVE: Police advised two brothers to “grow up” on June 30 after they got into a punching match over ice cream.
The brothers got into an argument about which one of them ate some ice cream earlier in the week. One brother called police after the argument degenerated into a pushing and shoving match.
"Summer in the city such a very special time
If you put aside the traffic, air-pollution and the grime...
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
lay my burden down...
Right now life is feeling like a trainwreck and I'm wondering what else will go wrong, considering that the week hasn't even finished yet and already I'm facing some seriously frayed relationships, somewhat serious and frustrating legal troubles (more on that another time), and all the stress has just gotten to me so badly and I've been a strung out wreck of tangled emotions.
All the things I love most being messed with and it's hard as anything, to see dreams constantly deferred to the point that I wonder if anything will change, to find myself trying to get through things I don't understand and never thought I'd deal with, to make sense of the messed-upness of everything, the way that we hurt each other, the way that power is abused, the nastiness of racism and the corruption that is rotting away the city, the way that the world functions regardless of what I do in the face of it.
There were some flashes of hope, with a random phone call from a good friend today who's been through all this and more, a late night pancake session at IHOP with two of my favorite people, and roomie being back home and her awesome self listening to me panic and showing me how she got through.
I keep on living and trying to learn to love and survive even as I just want to give up and check out, even as I know that God carries me even at my most broken and lost.
All the things I love most being messed with and it's hard as anything, to see dreams constantly deferred to the point that I wonder if anything will change, to find myself trying to get through things I don't understand and never thought I'd deal with, to make sense of the messed-upness of everything, the way that we hurt each other, the way that power is abused, the nastiness of racism and the corruption that is rotting away the city, the way that the world functions regardless of what I do in the face of it.
There were some flashes of hope, with a random phone call from a good friend today who's been through all this and more, a late night pancake session at IHOP with two of my favorite people, and roomie being back home and her awesome self listening to me panic and showing me how she got through.
I keep on living and trying to learn to love and survive even as I just want to give up and check out, even as I know that God carries me even at my most broken and lost.
Monday, July 5, 2010
I don't believe in painted roses or bleeding hearts...
I've been moody this weekend and not that much fun, with the heat and disappointment and a good night's sleep eluding me.
my neighbors set off fabulous fireworks. everyone's blowing off some serious pyrotechnics and I walked to the corner where the ice cream stand is and there was a few of us hanging out in front throwing firecrackers, watching the fireworks from downtown coming over the trees and the people on 44th sending up one after another. It was so beautiful out and it made me feel a little less lonely because it sucks watching fireworks by yourself.
And it sounds like heavy rain, thunderstorms, the third world war with the flashing lights and the smell of burnt chemicals and the way that it echoes like it's striking twice. And I think about how these explosions are fun here, but that this is what people fall asleep to every night but it's sounds that could kill you.
I dug out my copy of "The Joshua Tree" for the first time in awhile and wondered why I was listening to all these songs about sad eyes and crooked crosses and how every day the dreamers die.
But that's where I'm at, trying to figure out what to do now that I'm no longer full of youthful idealism yet still want to have a meaningful life, not expecting fulfillment in another person but finding extended periods of solitude unbearable, trying not to think about the future, wondering how to get that sad feeling out of my insides.
and I can't sleep, with all the car stereos and the noise so I'm listening to music and hoping that sleep comes like a drug...
my neighbors set off fabulous fireworks. everyone's blowing off some serious pyrotechnics and I walked to the corner where the ice cream stand is and there was a few of us hanging out in front throwing firecrackers, watching the fireworks from downtown coming over the trees and the people on 44th sending up one after another. It was so beautiful out and it made me feel a little less lonely because it sucks watching fireworks by yourself.
And it sounds like heavy rain, thunderstorms, the third world war with the flashing lights and the smell of burnt chemicals and the way that it echoes like it's striking twice. And I think about how these explosions are fun here, but that this is what people fall asleep to every night but it's sounds that could kill you.
I dug out my copy of "The Joshua Tree" for the first time in awhile and wondered why I was listening to all these songs about sad eyes and crooked crosses and how every day the dreamers die.
But that's where I'm at, trying to figure out what to do now that I'm no longer full of youthful idealism yet still want to have a meaningful life, not expecting fulfillment in another person but finding extended periods of solitude unbearable, trying not to think about the future, wondering how to get that sad feeling out of my insides.
and I can't sleep, with all the car stereos and the noise so I'm listening to music and hoping that sleep comes like a drug...
Saturday, July 3, 2010
passin' me by
it's 1:30 in the morning and I was so restless earlier tonight.
believe it or not, I do like to get out of this city and this state once in awhile. My roommate's going to NYC for the weekend and I'm so happy for her, and wishing I wasn't housesitting for some friends because I've never been there and have always wanted to go.
I live vicariously through the lives of everyone around me, not because mine isn't occasionally interesting, but because I enjoy hearing about the experiences of others knowing that I may never get there or that those times are now gone.
But sometimes it gets old. I've always been curious and thirsty for knowledge, and while the world comes to my door here, I still want to actually see it for myself.
Really, I'll go anywhere. Take me almost anywhere that's at least a hundred years old and I will find something interesting. And the last time I was out of Ohio was two years ago when I ended up in Detroit, which was awesome but a lot like where I come from. I ended up in Phoenix and DC in college to visit friends and be part of a demonstration, but that's about it.
I've always wanted to go places, and the last time I filled out a passport application someone broke into my car and stole the photos and a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD and I keep waiting for my face to turn up in the papers when Mossad botches another assassination.
I explore every inch I can find of where I am, but I'd love a change of scene, something unlike where I'm at. I worked through college instead of studying abroad just because that was my only economic option, and I've never left the country, ever. I've never been to the west coast or the deep south or any mega-city besides DC.
I wouldn't want to go with some cheesy tour group or by myself. I'd want to sleep on someone's floor that I knew instead of stay at some resort or hotel. I'd like to just explore, see what's around and just take everything in.
Whenever me and the roommate try to plan something to visit friends of ours, it always gets bad there and we know we can't pull it off. So much for Jamaica this spring, we'll probably never get to Gaza either.
And it seems like everyone else gets to where they want to be, that it works out so easily, and no matter how I try it never seems to happen. I wonder if it ever will.
believe it or not, I do like to get out of this city and this state once in awhile. My roommate's going to NYC for the weekend and I'm so happy for her, and wishing I wasn't housesitting for some friends because I've never been there and have always wanted to go.
I live vicariously through the lives of everyone around me, not because mine isn't occasionally interesting, but because I enjoy hearing about the experiences of others knowing that I may never get there or that those times are now gone.
But sometimes it gets old. I've always been curious and thirsty for knowledge, and while the world comes to my door here, I still want to actually see it for myself.
Really, I'll go anywhere. Take me almost anywhere that's at least a hundred years old and I will find something interesting. And the last time I was out of Ohio was two years ago when I ended up in Detroit, which was awesome but a lot like where I come from. I ended up in Phoenix and DC in college to visit friends and be part of a demonstration, but that's about it.
I've always wanted to go places, and the last time I filled out a passport application someone broke into my car and stole the photos and a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD and I keep waiting for my face to turn up in the papers when Mossad botches another assassination.
I explore every inch I can find of where I am, but I'd love a change of scene, something unlike where I'm at. I worked through college instead of studying abroad just because that was my only economic option, and I've never left the country, ever. I've never been to the west coast or the deep south or any mega-city besides DC.
I wouldn't want to go with some cheesy tour group or by myself. I'd want to sleep on someone's floor that I knew instead of stay at some resort or hotel. I'd like to just explore, see what's around and just take everything in.
Whenever me and the roommate try to plan something to visit friends of ours, it always gets bad there and we know we can't pull it off. So much for Jamaica this spring, we'll probably never get to Gaza either.
And it seems like everyone else gets to where they want to be, that it works out so easily, and no matter how I try it never seems to happen. I wonder if it ever will.
Friday, July 2, 2010
a night like this...
I wasn't expecting to hear about how much we need Lebron James last night when we walked over the bridge to Public Square for the free orchestra concert and fireworks. But suddenly we see all these signs that say "HOME" everywhere with "morethanaplayer.org" written underneath.
We sat on the steps of the Civil War monument and were immensely entertained by the people-watching... senior citizens, unhappy couples, sweet families, kids with light sabers, everyone was down there and mingling with each other in a way that I rarely see.
Our little crew watched all the dynamics and made snarky comments about Lebron because everyone was supposed to wave their signs and the fireworks weren't shot off by Terminal Tower this year like they always were, but off the BP building (go figure) where the lights also spelled out "HOME," and thinking "oh come on."
But it was a beautiful night and we were walking down Superior Avenue and back over the bridge with our arms linked together so we wouldn't get separated and roommate singing "We shall over come" and Veronica leading us in chanting "El pueblo, unido! Jamas sera vencido!" just because.
And I'm still amazed and honestly a bit embarrassed to see the massive energy and resources used to keep our biggest star in a long time here.
We defeat ourselves when we beg a guy who grew up in Akron whose favorite team was the Chicago Bulls growing up to stay in our city. We are more than a player, not him. There are 400,000 of us in the city limits who have a whole range of talents and abilities but we pin all of our hopes on an athlete who could get hit by a car tomorrow and lose his ability to play basketball forever.
Honestly, it looks pathetic. If I was Lebron, I'd run like hell away from this city that acts so desperate. It goes back to the whole relationship dynamic. If you get too clingy and "please don't leave me" it kinda freaks the other person out because it shows that you have deeper issues than were first thought.
Why are we wasting our time making laughable "We are the World" style videos when we could be tutoring kids in our schools or painting over the lead paint in the houses in the older neighborhoods that causes kids to grow up with learning disabilities that they don't have to have?
But like I said before, it was a gorgeous night and I loved seeing people actually hanging out downtown instead of running for the parking garages and Rapid trains to avoid the spare-changers, and walking over the beautifully lit Detroit-Superior Bridge instead of dealing with massive traffic and general craziness.
We sat on the steps of the Civil War monument and were immensely entertained by the people-watching... senior citizens, unhappy couples, sweet families, kids with light sabers, everyone was down there and mingling with each other in a way that I rarely see.
Our little crew watched all the dynamics and made snarky comments about Lebron because everyone was supposed to wave their signs and the fireworks weren't shot off by Terminal Tower this year like they always were, but off the BP building (go figure) where the lights also spelled out "HOME," and thinking "oh come on."
But it was a beautiful night and we were walking down Superior Avenue and back over the bridge with our arms linked together so we wouldn't get separated and roommate singing "We shall over come" and Veronica leading us in chanting "El pueblo, unido! Jamas sera vencido!" just because.
And I'm still amazed and honestly a bit embarrassed to see the massive energy and resources used to keep our biggest star in a long time here.
We defeat ourselves when we beg a guy who grew up in Akron whose favorite team was the Chicago Bulls growing up to stay in our city. We are more than a player, not him. There are 400,000 of us in the city limits who have a whole range of talents and abilities but we pin all of our hopes on an athlete who could get hit by a car tomorrow and lose his ability to play basketball forever.
Honestly, it looks pathetic. If I was Lebron, I'd run like hell away from this city that acts so desperate. It goes back to the whole relationship dynamic. If you get too clingy and "please don't leave me" it kinda freaks the other person out because it shows that you have deeper issues than were first thought.
Why are we wasting our time making laughable "We are the World" style videos when we could be tutoring kids in our schools or painting over the lead paint in the houses in the older neighborhoods that causes kids to grow up with learning disabilities that they don't have to have?
But like I said before, it was a gorgeous night and I loved seeing people actually hanging out downtown instead of running for the parking garages and Rapid trains to avoid the spare-changers, and walking over the beautifully lit Detroit-Superior Bridge instead of dealing with massive traffic and general craziness.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
best of the blotter 23
SUSPICIOUS SITUATION, ELLSWORTH DRIVE: Motorists reported June 14 that a group of children who set up a Kool-Aid stand in their neighborhood were not providing the best customer service.
The motorists reported that the children were yelling at cars to stop and buy their cold drinks. If cars didn’t stop, the children began yelling obscenities at them.
The children and their mother denied the allegations.
SUSPICIOUS SITUATION, PROSPECT ROAD: An anonymous caller reported Saturday that there was a large marijuana plant growing in front of a business on Prospect Road.
The caller said the marijuana plant was in a planter outside the business, but he had never seen anyone tending the plant. Officers did find a marijuana plant that was 8-10 feet tall outside the business.
No one was at the business at the time, so the officers took the marijuana plant and destroyed it. Police are investigating the incident.
BURGLARY, NEWELL ROAD: A resident told police June 24 that a man broke into his home and stole $50, three cell phones and nine bags of suspected marijuana. A Cleveland man, 32, was arrested.
BAND BLAST, SHAKER: Maybe it was the real life version of Garage Band. A caller notified police that a Shaker Drive resident had a band in his garage and they were playing their music too loud around 9:25 p.m. June 14. Police responded and informed the resident of the complaint.
FIGHT, VAN AKEN BOULEVARD: A fight broke out Friday at the library, 16500 Van Aken, between a patron and an employee. There were no arrests.
LOST CHILD, TRENTON AVENUE: Residents reported Saturday night that there was an unusual party crasher at a graduation reception.
The residents called police after a 3-year-old boy wandered into the party around 9:30 p.m. and proceeded to “make himself at home.”
Police discovered that the boy had walked from his backyard on Dorchester Circle to the party. He was reunited with his parents.
MEDINA An unknown person broke into a Dawn Court apartment June 25 through the front window of the residence. The individual allegedly removed the screen, crawled in through the window and took an Elvis Presley doll. Police have no suspects in the case.
RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION, N. ELMWOOD: Police responded to a N. Elmwood Ave. location upon report of a disturbance at the home. Upon arrival, an officer spoke with two men who were arguing in the front lawn of the home around 11:30 p.m., June 26. The two men were apparently engaged in a debate about religion.
ANIMALS, MARSOL ROAD: A hysterical 911 call came in June 21 from a woman who lost her dog on an elevator. Responding officers located the dog that had gotten off on a different floor. The owner was reunited with the dog and all was well.
COMPLAINT, MADISON AVENUE: At 8:54 p.m. June 23, a resident saw a man walking with a gun on Madison Avenue. The man had a key chain that was mistaken for a gun. Police advised the man.
The motorists reported that the children were yelling at cars to stop and buy their cold drinks. If cars didn’t stop, the children began yelling obscenities at them.
The children and their mother denied the allegations.
SUSPICIOUS SITUATION, PROSPECT ROAD: An anonymous caller reported Saturday that there was a large marijuana plant growing in front of a business on Prospect Road.
The caller said the marijuana plant was in a planter outside the business, but he had never seen anyone tending the plant. Officers did find a marijuana plant that was 8-10 feet tall outside the business.
No one was at the business at the time, so the officers took the marijuana plant and destroyed it. Police are investigating the incident.
BURGLARY, NEWELL ROAD: A resident told police June 24 that a man broke into his home and stole $50, three cell phones and nine bags of suspected marijuana. A Cleveland man, 32, was arrested.
BAND BLAST, SHAKER: Maybe it was the real life version of Garage Band. A caller notified police that a Shaker Drive resident had a band in his garage and they were playing their music too loud around 9:25 p.m. June 14. Police responded and informed the resident of the complaint.
FIGHT, VAN AKEN BOULEVARD: A fight broke out Friday at the library, 16500 Van Aken, between a patron and an employee. There were no arrests.
LOST CHILD, TRENTON AVENUE: Residents reported Saturday night that there was an unusual party crasher at a graduation reception.
The residents called police after a 3-year-old boy wandered into the party around 9:30 p.m. and proceeded to “make himself at home.”
Police discovered that the boy had walked from his backyard on Dorchester Circle to the party. He was reunited with his parents.
MEDINA An unknown person broke into a Dawn Court apartment June 25 through the front window of the residence. The individual allegedly removed the screen, crawled in through the window and took an Elvis Presley doll. Police have no suspects in the case.
RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION, N. ELMWOOD: Police responded to a N. Elmwood Ave. location upon report of a disturbance at the home. Upon arrival, an officer spoke with two men who were arguing in the front lawn of the home around 11:30 p.m., June 26. The two men were apparently engaged in a debate about religion.
ANIMALS, MARSOL ROAD: A hysterical 911 call came in June 21 from a woman who lost her dog on an elevator. Responding officers located the dog that had gotten off on a different floor. The owner was reunited with the dog and all was well.
COMPLAINT, MADISON AVENUE: At 8:54 p.m. June 23, a resident saw a man walking with a gun on Madison Avenue. The man had a key chain that was mistaken for a gun. Police advised the man.
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