Rogers Park street scene

There's no present like the moment the used-up and tossed aside not quite dried out strawberry shaped juice container looking down on its luck like the Virgin Mary’s faded but still sacred heart whispers up not the least bit bitter or glum from its clump of weeds to the crow who's perched on a soon to be glowing streetlight’s sturdy arm and who's quickly losing interest in both never more and tomorrow morning’s preyed upon glories

The neighborhood newspaper biz

This post is a bit out of character, as I don't like to delve too deeply into my non-creative activities on this site, but I also don't want to sit idly by and allow someone to mischaracterize what I do either.

For those who don't know, my friends and I started a new community-based newspaper. It's meant to open up the channels of communication in a diverse neighborhood where information doesn't always flow freely. It's a publication with a distinctly progressive voice, which will become apparent when you see this week's lead story on Naomi Klein's discussion of the financial bailout.

The paper is called The Urban Coaster, and it's beginning to get some attention. CommonDreams.Org just featured the Klein story on its national site and brought us a huge influx of new readers. Unfortunately, with the good always comes some bad. There are those in the community who don't want to see a publication succeed that gives voice to alternative views.

Ours is a strange little neighborhood, where a group of very vocal folks try to shout down anyone who disagrees with their self-aggrandizing agenda. They do this to compensate for the fact that their opinions only resonate with a small minority. Some have blogs that they use to bully others into silence, and they often do so in the most reprehensible ways. Actually, I guess that really isn't much different than the tactics of certain Fox News "personalities."

I don't want to dwell on their negativity too much, and I think the vast majority of people in the community will respond to our positive message much more than their vituperative posts. It's just a shame that some feel the need to resort to the most petty of personal attacks in order to promote their views. I'm not going to stoop to their level.

Smoothing things over ...

I'm sorry for the prolonged silence, but I was quite busy this weekend playing mason. I was part of a project to restore a sculpture that resides in one of the local parks. The piece, Windform, celebrates its 25th anniversary this year.

Lynn Takata, the artist, flew in from Portland to direct a few dozen neighborhood park and public-art lovers in the difficult but fun task of resurfacing the 100-foot long cement sculpture.

As you can see from the photo below (snapped by my friend Tom), I was assigned to the cement mixer to prepare the mortar. I'll post a drawing soon to commemorate Windform, and I still am working on posts about my NYC trip.

A New Year Artfully Resolved

My comrade in art George Kokines converted his Rogers Park studio into a gallery for a "Works In Progress" show yesterday, and I was lucky enough to be involved in the planning and orchestration. It was his New Year's gift to Chicago, and I thought I'd share some photos from the event.

As you can see, George has quite a wide range of technique, media and inspiration, and there was a great energy in the room as we all kicked 2008 off on an expressive note. George has provided me with much guidance and focus in my creative endeavors the past year, and I hope we'll prod each other toward an even more inventive future.

Fresh starts, new beginnings

New Year's Day has always been one of my favorite holidays. I appreciate the spirit of renewal that we celebrate as the calendar flips and the year turns. The starting point may be arbitrary, but there's still significance in beginning again our planetary journey around the sun.

In the midst of winter's cold grip, it's good to warm ourselves with thoughts of reinvention and self improvement. Here on the far north side of Chicago, even the weather cooperated in reaffirming that seasonal metaphor. A fresh blanket of snow fell on the trees and walks, painting the neighborhood in a pristine white as if to symbolize a clean slate.

Personally, I don't have any specific resolutions other than to be better at everything. Nationally, I don't know what the year ahead has in store, but I have a strong feeling it won't be dull. Universally, I wish everyone a happy, peaceful and loving solar spin.

Words of healing power

This is an important poem for me. I'm writing it to commemorate a very exciting event that will take place in my neighborhood next year. It's the fulfillment of a dream long held by a group of active and concerned community members.

On January 21, 2008 the Heartland Alliance will open a new federally qualified health clinic in Rogers Park. It's a project to which my friends and I have been closely linked for almost two years. Through the facility, our neighbors will be able to find a community-based, medical home that will offer a wide range of care.

In the coming weeks, I'll provide more details on the opening and the official ribbon cutting that will follow soon after. For now, I want to share the excitement I'm feeling and post the blank versed words I put together to celebrate the joyful expectation of a community's new healing power.

A small hand reaches
By Francis Scudellari

A small hand reaches high,
Lifted
Out of indifference,
Clasping
At hope, releases at last,
Embraced,
Pain held too close, bound tight
Inside,
Hers only, entirely,
Offered,
Gifted gladly, ours to/o
Accept,
Grasping answers, common
Concern
Transformed beyond caring
To heal

A child's voice allowed, up
Rises
Names his wants once muffled,
Prayers
No more pushed down, only
Spoken
To/o distant ears, whispered,
Hush-shed
On tear-moistened pillows,
Sings out,
Now awake, tuned, telling
Touches
Reveal requests plaintive,
Painting
Limned hurts, ever ours to/o
Set free

Versed in the urban experience

I love my Chicago neighborhood, and have always felt that its many positives far outweigh its unsolved challenges. Living in Rogers Park is an urban experience that won't appeal to everyone, but the natural beauty of the nearby lake shore coupled with a vibrant cultural scene make it a perfect place for me.

Drawn by Lake Michigan's proximity and a still robust affordable housing stock, hard working folks of all ethnicities and incomes make our corner of the city one of the most diverse zip codes in the nation. Unfortunately, due to broader social factors and the city government's too frequent negligence, we also have to struggle with issues of poverty and homelessness.

In an increasingly pay-to-play world, public services are perpetually underfunded, understaffed and under-performing. Our local schools don't offer a good education to those kids whose parents can't afford a private opt-out. Mass transit is being threatened with massive service cuts and fare increases. The county health system is approaching budgetary collapse.

Public safety has devolved into a game of high-tech call and response. Surveillance cameras and sensors are mounted on poles at crime hot-spots to gather evidence more reliably than the human eyes and ears walled in behind brick and mortar facades. Most often, when the cops arrive, whatever was taking place has already moved somewhere else.

Sirens are an all too frequent part of the local soundscape. Thankfully, gunfire isn't as common, but shots still ring out more often than I'd like to admit. Sometimes it's hard for the untrained ear to distinguish real gunfire from more benign disturbances, so you always hope you heard wrong.

When a loud bang rings out, you can only wait for the sirens and pray that another young person hasn't lost their life to senseless street violence. The following poem was inspired by a recent night of such uncertain aural stimulation.

Four Shots
By Francis Scudellari

Four shots, then two, one more
Staccato, rhythmic pops,
Crisp claps, crackling echoes
Shatter the mid-night calm

Staring, brick-walled, I wait
Unsure, probe the silence,
Once serene, sleep-walk made
Too close, seeming fatal

Distant sirens cry out
Infants pulled from sep'rate
Drowsy cribs, converging
Nightmares, now awakened

Imagined violence
Suddenly surreal, first
Arrival announced, screeched
Squad car or ambulance?

Abstractly expressing birthday wishes for George Kokines

As a birthday tribute to my good friend and world renowned local artist George Kokines, I'm posting here a sampling of his paintings. These are all pieces from his Études series, in which he worked his abstract magic to transform the traditional subject of the still life.

George's birthday was yesterday (Nov. 17), and I would have put up a post sooner for the occasion, but our clique of the like minded was having too good a time celebrating out on the town.

If some of the images below appear a bit crooked, don't worry, it's just your eyes.

A Fall Night Out in Rogers Park: Catching Cabaret, Carving Pumpkins

The amazing and very local (it's literally right around the corner from me at 6970 N. Glenwood Ave.) theater company Theo Ubique is mounting a new production of the musical Cabaret. Last night a group of us attended the final preview before tonight's opening. Under the incredible direction of Fred Anzevino, all the performances were exceptional and I highly recommend dropping by Rogers Park to check it out.

I even have a small personal connection to the production. My good friend George Kokines created 30 large scale drawings based on the sketches of George Grosz, which I helped hang around the theater space to give the audience added insight into the time and place of the drama.

The sometimes cartoonish, sometimes ghoulish characters that populate Grosz's drawings definitely put one in the mood of Berlin between the wars. Below is a sampling of the pieces we hung along the south wall of the space ...

If you're not familiar with Cabaret, it's an interesting play to revive now. Depicting the denizens of a decadent Berlin night club sleep walking their way through life as the Nazis rise to power, it's a cautionary tale of the need to be on guard against the naive belief that the worst can never happen and others will take care of society's problems for us.

Choosing to ignore the spread of brutal, reactionary and racist ideologies, we end up abetting the contagion. There are times when we have to take a stand, no matter how much we'd rather be dancing our lives away. Here is a more detailed shot of a couple sketches ...

After the play ended, our little gang of drawing hangers met at the local watering hole (the Buffalo Bar at the Heartland Café) to raise a glass to the kickoff of a very successful run for Theo Ubique. Sophie, below letting Jim know what's what, organized a pumpkin carving to benefit the good folks at the Howard Area Community Center. If you click on the image to enlarge it and squint, you can make out my knife work next to Sophie's elbow.

Terry, who risked life and limb atop a rickety ladder to staple most of the drawings in place, had a point at the end of his finger to make ...

George basked in the awareness that 25 cents would soon be his because of the Red Sox trending toward a World Series sweep of my favored Rockies. Wanting to give us amateurs a chance, he left the gourd sculpting to Jim and I.

Uncle Sam ain't helping, so it's up to US.

Note: The location of this event has been changed to Heartland Cafe at 7001 N. Glenwood Ave. due to flooding at the Wishbone.

If you're anywhere near Chicago this Sunday, come out to the Wishbone restaurant at 1001 W. Washington to help support local musician Micki Croisant whose mother got blindsided by an illness that cost her her job and health insurance. There will be great live entertainment, a chance to win amazing prizes in a raffle, and lots of awesome articles for sale in a silent auction. All money raised will go to help pay Mary Ann Croisant's medical bills, because as the poster above (designed by local artist Christine Cozza) says, we've got her back even if the government doesn't.

In an interesting bit of serendipity, I donated a limited edition print of a painting by acclaimed comic book artist Alex Ross to the auction, and I found out yesterday that he graduated from the same art school as Micki and frequently spoke to classes there, becoming quite the local hero to the students. The artwork itself was also particularly appropriate because it was taken from the Uncle Sam comic book that Ross created with writer Steve Darnall for Vertigo comics.

It's the story of a down-and-out Sam wandering the streets homeless, plagued by troubling flashbacks from his past, trying to understand exactly who he is and how he got there. The painting shows Sam in ragged clothes, with his top hat extended looking for a handout. It's a startling look in the mirror for we Americans. Unfortunately, until we fix our broken health care system, more and more of us will be relying on the kindness of strangers just to survive.

Short in acquaintance, Long in thought

He stopped by our booth as the art festival was winding down. He wanted to sample our panini, but he also wanted to show us his wares. They were ceramics that bore the unauthorized likenesses of favorite cartoon characters. They could be used for certain illicit purposes if that was one's bent, but they were cool in their own right and he enjoyed sharing them with us.

He had a ready smile and a deep laugh; a kindred soul in a neighborhood full of the proudly idiosyncratic. We worked a trade of merchandise and banter, and he moved on to try his luck with the other vendors. Later that night we met him again over a beer to unwind from a long weekend's work. He introduced himself as Tommy Long, and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket.

He'd found a poem he'd written years back, and he wanted to read it to us. Struggling to decipher his own handwriting, scribbled and now faded, he couldn't hide the joy of it. It boasted about this our city, Chicago. It wasn't very good, but it made him happy and that was good enough for all of us. We parted that night and I fully expected to bump into him again soon on one of the many well-trod paths of our neighborhood.

Today, a little more than three weeks later, the news made it back to me through the local grapevine that Tommy Long had died at the too young age of 49. Known by some as the Mayor of Jarvis Beach, he took his usual swim yesterday evening but couldn't make it back to the shore. Rescued but not revived, Tommy Long passed on to the realm of legend at 7:22pm on September 18 at my namesake hospital.

I hope those laying him to rest will read that poem over whatever place serves as home to his remains. It would make a most fitting tribute, and I can imagine him smiling in spirit as they do.

Spreading the good news: community health victory

Last year, I worked alongside a small but committed group of neighbors, public officials and non-profit professionals to apply for a grant to build a Federally Qualified Health Center locally. Yesterday the official word went out that our application was approved and we'll see our new clinic opening its doors in February 2008. Check out the press release posted on the Neighbors for a Healthy Rogers Park Web site.

Rogers Park, where I've lived for the past 5 years, is an area on the far north side of Chicago that has an abysmally low level of local health resources. Residents without health insurance, and there are over 20,000 at best guess (one-third of the total population), have to take 3 different buses to reach the county public hospital to receive treatment.

Such a long trek discourages the sick from making anything but emergency visits, and that's when care is the most expensive to administer — a major contributing factor to the Cook county health system's current budget crisis. It's also a terrible situation in which to put folks with chronic conditions such as diabetes, as they require regular visits in order to monitor their health.

Giving the people of our neighborhood a close-by medical home will make it easier for them to seek preventative care, which will not only improve their overall health but save the county and private health systems money by reducing the reliance on emergency room visits. It is a tremendous victory for all of us in Rogers Park, and proof that it is possible to make a positive difference when we come together as a community to address our most vital needs.

We still have much work to do both here in Rogers Park and across the US. The clinic, as important as it is, will only address a fraction of the community's need. With a county health system that is teetering on the brink of collapse, those without a place to receive quality care could escalate sharply. That crisis isn't unique to our city either, as there are 46 million Americans currently without health insurance.

I've been a long-time proponent of single payer health care, and I still believe that's the country's best hope (check out Physicians for a National Health Program to learn more). It's a long term goal, however, as the political will is still not strong enough to overturn the lobbying muscle of the current stakeholders in our dysfunctional health system. While we try to build a movement strong enough to coerce more politicians to jump on the universal health care bandwagon (not to be confused with universal private health insurance), we'll need to win these short term local battles for more health resources.

Wasted crime: How to disappear completely

It was quite a surreal adventure in my neighborhood today, with media circulating rumors about a bank robber taking hostages and helicopters audibly circling throughout the afternoon. Barricades were erected, streets closed off, and gawking residents told to keep their distance, yet in the end the wannabe thief disappeared with nothing stolen, no hostages taken, and quite a few folks scratching their heads.

The facts are still murky, but it appears that a man in hospital scrubs talked his way into the back entrance of First Commerical Bank, a scant three blocks from my apartment. The man may or may not have been armed. At first it was thought that he took hostages, but now they say he didn't. The building was surrounded by Chicago police, FBI and swat teams yet somehow the perp walked away, allegedly empty-handed.

Police and news helicopters spent the day either looking for him or looking for a story. The good news is that no one was hurt in the ordeal that wasn't. The Chicago Sun Times gives us the sketchy details in their story Officials: Armed man escaped without cash.

It all puts me in mind of a favorite song by Radiohead. Wouldn't it be nice to walk away from a big mistake, and just disappear as if nothing ever happened.

How To Disappear Completely

That there, that's not me
I go where I please
I walk through walls
I float down the Liffey

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here

In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah, it's gone

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here

Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here ...

Lost weekend: Sandwiched reality

I know my blogging idleness this weekend must seem sinful, but I swear I wasn't doing the devil's work. In fact my hands were quite busy with loved labor lost in the physical realm.

I spent many fruitful hours (and some not so fruitfull ones) at our neighborhood arts fest pushing panini for my dear friends Terry & Nancy, who own Gold 'N Pear Catering. We met many wonderful folks who stopped by the booth at the Glenwood Avenue Arts Festival, and once we got all the logistical kinks worked out we had a great time.

The sandwiches were so good, they got credit for performing a miracle. A repeat customer exclaimed that one of the panini indeed saved his friend's life. I'd divine that it was an exaggeration, but I'm sure Terry and Nancy will take it as a ringing endorsement.

I'll apply my industriousness back to the blog tomorrow, so stay tuned. There are two awards, a meme, and a Wired article soon to appear. I'm sure I'll throw in a song lyric or two as well.

Under-appreciating over-growth: Gardening at night

There's been a lot of talk about gardening in my neighborhood, a place that's struggling between what it is and what some would have it become. Usually the proponents of flowered plots are those with property who harbor hopes of transforming our urban environs into a more suburban clime, amenable to backyard barbecues and front porch swings. They want to white wash away the city grit that's attracted my lot, a mixed bag of strivers seeking things immaterial. We're drawn to the inky night that hides treasured secrets, not the sunny light that bathes the mundane in a favorable shine.

Gardening is a topic with which I've always found it difficult to make common cause. I'm part of a generation that was long ago alienated from Nature, and a many-year resident of the concrete jungle where space is precious and usually occupied by brick and mortar. My friends who grow things usually do so out of sight, in the privacy of their inside spaces, unable to afford more than a few rooms to hang their things.

Don't get me wrong, I understand and appreciate the desire and need to nurture. I admire greatly those who have the ability to coax things to grow, in the hopes of beautifying the lives of others. The objectives of gardeners can vary, however. Some choose to plant thorny bushes and forbidding hedges meant to exclude others, and seclude themselves. Others opt for communal gardens, with welcoming flowers meant to be enjoyed by whoever happens by.

There are also the metaphorically green thumbed, who transform cold concrete walls into many-colored splendors, planting artistic seeds that embed themselves in viewers' hearts until true community blossoms. Flowers can come in the form of portraits, poems and songs as well as daffodils. There is a creative chaos that defines the city, and it's a characteristic that some don't value and ever clamber to change into an ordered conformity, subdividing the structural diversity into neatly uniform plots.

I was lucky enough to have grown up in a wooded, undeveloped portion of southern Maryland where I could take frequent excursions with my brothers over the magically untamed streambed running through our backyard. That may seem far removed from my current urban home, but its wild honesty has much more in common with where I live than the superficial sameness of cookie-cutter single family homes.

Those Maryland woods have since been replaced by the manicured green lawns of suburban sprawl. I'll do my damnedest to ensure that Rogers Park on the far north side of Chicago doesn't meet a similar fate. My attempts to preserve and persevere against the gathering storm of gentrification may seem as vain an endeavor as gardening at night, but I know there are others here ready to dig in their heels. It's honest work in the shadows, and sometimes the dangers that hide in plain sight pose the greatest threat.

Gardening at Night
by R.E.M.

I see your money on the floor, I felt the pocket change
Though all the feelings that broke through that door
Just didn't seem to be too real.
The yard is nothing but a fence, the sun just hurts my eyes.
Somewhere it must be time for penitence. Gardening at night is never where.
Gardening at night. Gardening at night. Gardening at night.

The neighbors go to bed at ten.
Call the prayer line for a change.
The charge is changing every month.
They said it couldn't be arranged.

We ankled up the garbage sound, but they were busy in the rows.
We fell up, not to see the sun, gardening at night just didnt grow.
I see your money on the floor, I felt the pocket change
Though all the feelings that broke through that door
Just didn't seem to be too real.
Gardening at night. Gardening at night. Gardening at night

Your sister said that you're too young.
They should know they've been there twice.
The call was 2 and 51.
They said it couldn't be arranged.

I see your money on the floor, I felt the pocket change
Though all the feelings that broke through that door
Just didn't seem to be too real.
We ankled up the garbage sound, but they were busy in the rows.
We fell up not to see the sun, gardening at night just didnt grow.
Gardening at night. Gardening at night. Gardening at night.

Building up a Sunday: Jazz, Ennui, Portraits and Silhouettes

Last week I wrote about an excellent jazz show, featuring Jimmy Bennington and Julian Priester, that I witnessed at the Velvet Lounge on the southside of Chicago (see Night time is the rite time for Jazz). Today I got some good news: Jimmy has invited Julian to sit in on his regular Colour and Sound gig at the Ennui Café right here in the neighborhood.

Maybe it's the collaborative nature of the genre, but my experience has been that jazz musicians are some of the most generous folks on the planet, and Mr. Priester is certainly displaying a grand level of graciousness in allowing us locals an opportunity to witness his trombone play. It's not often that you'll get the chance to see a musician of such renown play in such an intimate setting. Here's an excerpt from an article on Mr. Priester from All About Jazz:

... Julian Priester was born and raised in Chicago. His musical education was steeped in his study of bebop, but was seasoned by his exposure to the blues and the music of Sun Ra. Spontaneous improvisation was the focal point of Sun Ra's music, and it planted a seed of creative exploration that has stayed with Priester throughout his career. It took some years for Priester to truly understand what he had learned from his Sun Ra experience, but it was valuable indeed in the musical situations in which Priester would soon find himself. ...

Read the full article

Of course we in Rogers Park have gotten spoiled by the weekly sessions of free jazz (in price and style) that Jimmy has been arranging at the café every Sunday between 7 and 9pm. Jimmy's career has already covered a lot of territory and his expertise on the kit demonstrates that experience. All About Jazz did a nice interview with Jimmy a couple years back (see Meet Drummer Jimmy Bennington), and here's a snippet from the intro to that article:

... Having spent two years between 2000-2002 working as a drum tech for Elvin Jones touring the United States and Europe, Bennington is a drummer with a distinctive playing style and he has had the opportunities to work with a diverse array of artists from the jazz and improvised music communities including Gordon Lee, Art Resnik, and Michael Vlatkovich. ...

If you're going to be in Rogers Park on Sunday, make sure you get over to the Ennui Café (located at 6981 N. Sheridan Rd.) at 7pm to be a part of this event. If you're not, find a way to get here. As an added bonus, you'll be able to purchase their new CD — Portraits and Silhouettes.

A wall that brings the community together

I didn't blog much this weekend, because I was busy participating in Rogers Park's Artists of the Wall festival. My friends and I joined our fellow neighbors in beautifying our lakefront with a little artistic expression.


The concrete wall that runs along the beach's bike path is re-painted each summer, and local residents get to apply their interpretations of the festival theme to a section of it. Even the light poles can be fair game.


This year, the task was to paint guided by the idea of "Our Secret Garden" and it produced some wonderful results. One of my personal favorites is the Space Alien in full gardening regalia turning the soil out at Area 51 (too bad they couldn't have arranged to get the actual spot no. 51).


The atmosphere out at the lake was festive, despite the heat. Prayer flags were raised on the beach adding even more color to the event.


My good friend and great artist George Kokines directed his grandson Jeremy and granddaughter Lara in a wonderful Jackson Pollock inspired piece. I even got to contribute a few brushstrokes, flings and drips. Unfortunately my poor attempt at a picture doesn't do it justice.


Finally, the piece that consumed most of my time Sunday. In cahoots with my friends Jim Ginderske and Tom Westgard, we painted the Rogers Park flag. It might not look like much, but trust me that star was a real challenge.

Favorite Song of the Day: Garden of Earthly Delights

This weekend my little corner of the world — Rogers Park in Chicago — is hosting the 14th annual "Artists of the Wall" festival. It's one of the highlights of the summer in the neighborhood, as artists of all ages and abilities paint the 500 foot concrete bench that lines the lakefront bikepath at Loyola Park beach. There's good music, fine eats, and a real sense of community as we splash paint on the sittable wall and each other.

I'll be out there in the sunshine trying to execute a design that exemplifies this year's theme: Our Secret Garden. To get myself in the proper mindset, I'm listening to an old favorite by XTC. It's only very loosely connected to garden imagery, but that's ok because it's about living in the moment, which is what I've been doing a lot of lately. It's certainly what I'll be doing tomorrow and, when I'm done painting, the finished product is also likely to be loosely connected to the day's theme.

Garden of Earthly Delights
by Andy Partridge

Kid, stay and snip your cord off. Talk and let your mind loose. Can't all think like Chekov but you'll be ok. Kid is this your first time here? Some can't stand the beauty, so they cut off one ear, but you'll be ok.

Welcome to the Garden of Earthly Delights. Welcome to a billion Arabian nights. This is your life and you do what you want to do. This is your life and you spend it all. This is your life and you do what you want to do; just don't hurt nobody. And the big rewards here, in the Garden of Earthly Delights.

Kid, pick up with another, some will even drop you, but hearts are built like rubber, so you'll be alright. Kid, swallow but believe us, you won't die of boredom, should you have to leave us, it'll be alright.

Welcome to the Garden of Earthly Delights. Welcome to a billion Arabian nights. This is your life and you be what you want to be. This is your life and you try it all. This is your life and you be what you want to be; just don't hurt nobody, less of course they ask you, in the Garden of Earthly Delights.

The link between sustainability and affordable housing

Brian White, the Executive Director of Lakeside Community Development Corporation, submitted a follow up to my May 28th post "Measuring Chicago's Sustainability." He points out the problems caused by the aging infrastructure in Rogers Park, our neighborhood on the far north side of Chicago, especially as it pertains to inefficiencies in heating.

What he suggests is a better partnership between landlords and tenants, as well as improved funding sources to aid landlords willing to maintain affordability as they try to improve sustainability. Because of the great social advantages, it doesn't seem like too much to ask of our government. The long-term savings from tackling these structural issues will far outweigh the short-term costs. We just need to pressure our politicians to recognize that truth.

Here's the full text of his response:

Affordable housing is directly related to sustainability due to the role that operating costs play in driving conversions. Larger property owners have complained publicly and privately that the three factors that push them to convert rental buildings to condos are costs of property taxes, utilities, and insurance. When the core operating costs cannot be offset by higher rents, they simply convert.

Heat is the primary expense for landlords when it comes to utilities. The brick buildings that make up much of Rogers Park's housing stock were not well insulated when they were built and they bleed heat. Because the exteriors are brick, in order to insulate them today, a landlord has to insulate the exterior walls from inside the units. That means a gut rehab.

Some landlords try to curb heat loss by controlling temps or penalizing tenants for wasting heat, i.e. by leaving windows open in winter. Other landlords try to get into units to tap radiators and keep their buildings balanced, but if tenants don’t provide access or do so at widely varying times, it results in hassle and cost to the landlord. Finally, landlords will invest in more efficient systems, but without temperature controls and tenant help in maintaining systems annually, savings from improved efficiency is eroded. In short, success in these efforts requires a good deal of cooperation between landlord and tenant, something that may not exist in many buildings.

A joint effort between tenants and landlords to reduce heat consumption, perhaps in exchange for landlords holding the line on rents, might contribute to preserving some modest degree of affordability. As part of a broader effort to preserve existing affordable units that are also transportation efficient (i.e. near transit) and to modify buildings with improved energy systems, it would help. Additionally, funders need to get involved by providing financing that allows landlords to make improvements to properties without breaking the bank. Because in the end, the costs a landlord absorbs on the front end are too often passed on to the rear ends of the tenants in the form of a boot out the door. That cycle has to end.

Sustainability efforts work best when missions and markets align. We have a great opportunity to demonstrate that in Rogers Park by linking the need to make rental housing affordable with the mission of reducing our net impact on systems and the environment.

Brian White
Lakeside CDC

A playground filled with poetry

It might have been a gray Chicago afternoon, but at Gale School in Rogers Park things were particularly bright and cheerful. Today the kids at Gale got off early so that they could participate in a Poetry Walk. The event was inspired by a visit Principal Rudy Lubov made to Robert Frost's home in Massachussets, and it came to fruition through the hard work of curators Lori Viera and Dayanara Garcia, the students who wrote many wonderful poems for the occasion, and many other teachers and volunteers.

The students, from Head Start through 8th grade, used Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends as a model and wrote at least one poem each. The Gale School grounds were covered with the fruit of those labors.

There was poetry on bookmarks that were tied to the fences ...



There was poetry hung like clothes from a wash line ...




There was poetry assembled with found objects into stepping stones ...




There was poetry written with chalk on the sidewalks ...



There was poetry displayed with drawings on the walls ...


There was poetry used as wrapping for gift boxes ...


And there were students with music to play and voices to lift up ...


It's a shining example of the creativity of these youth who just need the proper coaxing to bring forth such beautiful expressions. It's also an object lesson why our public school system needs to think twice before making the arts one of the first programs cut during times of fiscal crisis.

It's also just one of the many cool events taking place throughout the city during the month of May as part of the Chicago Labor & Arts Festival.