Showing posts with label dream sequence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream sequence. Show all posts

Thursday, July 23, 2015

ON THE AVENUES: A citizen's eloquent complaint about the parking debacle at River Run reminds us that planners and brooms go hand in hand.

ON THE AVENUES:  A citizen's eloquent complaint about the parking debacle at River Run reminds us that planners and brooms go hand in hand. 

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

Before we reprise a column from January 23, 2014, let's take a look at an unedited Facebook post from New Albany resident Joe Kraft, with whom I am not personally acquainted. It is as self-explanatory as I can imagine such a passage to be.

---

I can't help but to vent my frustration with our mayor and the city of New Albany.

I am an active member of Holy Family Catholic Church and own two small businesses in New Albany. I cannot believe the city built the River Run Water Park without enough parking for the patrons. The capacity of the new water park is 1,378 according to city records, yet there are only 155 parking places! Why so few? They have ample ground on either side of the new fire house.

The city and mayor has brought a great hardship on my parish community of Holy Family. We have had to barricade our parking lot off to the general public so we can have parking for our parishioners, especially our senior citizens. Unfortunately the busiest times of the new water park coincide with the busiest times of our parish community.

We have two masses on Saturday and 2 Sunday morning masses and 1 Sunday evening mass. We DO NOT want to be perceived in our city community as unwelcoming to those people who cannot find parking at the water park. We have agreed to park all the city employees of the water park. Usually about 20 cars a day.

We just do not have room to park the general public. Holy Family wants to be good neighbors but the city is making it impossible!

I also own two rental homes on Coyle Drive across the street from the water park. My tenants have been frustrated by the cars parked on either side of the road causing a very dangerous driving situation.

The city requires all businesses, outside of downtown district to meet STRINGENT parking guidelines before opening a business. A business is required to provide ample parking for their employees and patrons. How does the mayor and the city get away with ignoring these guidelines? It is so very unjust and unfair to our community, businesses and Holy Family. I am disgusted and dismayed!

Mayor Gahan and the city of New Albany needs to be held accountable!

---

Mr. Kraft, you're quite right. Unfortunately, the current regime is convinced it possesses an unerring touch, and that it need not heed its own guidelines. Your example is the literal tip of the iceberg. In his capacity as mayor, Jeff Gahan exists in a strange, detached, Disneyesque bubble of sheer down-low fantasy. There's only one effective cure on the horizon, and it's better than wooden stakes and garlic: An election, coming very soon, in which I'm challenging Gahan as an independent candidate, and Kevin Zurschmiede as well for the Republicans. Kevin and I do differ as candidates, but we agree on one central point: This cannot go on, and they must go. 

Good luck. Following is the reprinted column, as reiterating the point from another angle. True, eventually the professional truckers found common cause in opposing progress. In addition, the Speck study followed in due course, filled with reasons for City Hall to take the lead on street grid reform -- and it might just as well have been printed on toilet paper. Some other aspects of the following have been altered during the past eighteen months. However, by and large, I stand by it.

---

Let me tell you, it was a bizarre dream.

There I was, wearing only slippers and a jock strap, in a room filled to overflowing with planning professionals. Suddenly Tyler Allen sidled over.

He asked, “Who are these people, anyway?”

“They’re professional planners,” I said.

“Wow,” he nodded. “And they don’t know these things?”

“If they do, they’re not letting on.”

“That’s what I thought. If I had dreams like this, I’d consider foregoing sleep. You ever considered moving?”

---

But was it really a dream?

The room began shaking, and I leaped from my bed and ran to the window, all the better to view two 18-wheelers, side by side, thundering in the same direction down Spring Street as an officer on speed trap duty shone his radar gun on a box of multinational doughnuts.

Like MLK, I have a dream. Unlike him, this isn’t it. Then again, I’m not a professional planner in New Albany.

---

Well, was it a dream, or was it Memorex? At times it’s hard to tell.

In the aftermath of Jeff Speck’s library chat last week, I asked New Albany’s economic development director to explain the nature of local resistance to two-way street calming.

The reason for my curiosity? Apart from tangled, strangled, plaintive social media wails here and there, discernible organized opposition to street grid reform has not been visible. No less a personage than the economic development director’s boss once told me that in his view, there exists no community sentiment either way. Such a statement implies no pro, no con … just inert. But I’m pro. Where’s the con – that whole action and reaction dichotomy? The economic development director was quick to answer.

“Oh, it’s there. We hear it all the time.”

“But from whom?”

“We get phone calls and e-mails.”

“Look, I’m out on the street every day. I’m the face of the two-way lobby, so why aren’t they saying it to me?

“Why would they do that? Of course they won’t say it to YOUR face. They’re afraid they might have to talk to you.”

“Isn’t that what we want, a discussion?”

“C’mon, Roger; be serious. You DO have a reputation, you know.

“For what, being right?”

(pause)

“You know exactly what I mean. You and your buddies, always talking down to people with facts and evidence. These people don’t have a fighting chance if they go and reveal their identities.”

“If they’re afraid of revealing their identities, then why on earth should their opinion matter? Anyway, they can always go vote, right?”

(long silence)

“Oh, I see.”

---

As I was writing today’s column, Twitter informed me of the best straight line, ever.

“Tonight's New Albany Plan Commission meeting has been cancelled.”

If a tree falls in the woods and there’s no planning commission member on hand to hear it, can we have two-way streets yet?

---

However, what started the conversation was purely semantic. On the topic of Speck’s message, I thought it was self-evident, but I was asked to be more legalistic in my dialectic.

“Roger, why do you keep saying we’re not for this, when we’re not actually against it?”

“But not being against something isn’t the same as being for it.”

“That’s my point. Right now, we can only not be against it, at least until a study lets us know whether we’re for it. Look, we can’t know we’re for it unless someone tells us to be for it.”

“Wait a minute. You’ve been for several other things lately without someone telling you to be for them. Parks, aquatic centers, Main Street improvements, farmers market upgrades … ”

“Duh! Those are for feel-good parks and hallowed rows of mansions, and everyone’s for them, including us! It’s easy to be for it when no fundamental changes are necessary. It’s when you have to change something, then obviously you can’t be for it unless an expert tells you to be for it.”

“What about the Democratic grandees? Do you need their permission, too?”

“Hell no – wait, let me get this call.”

(Yeah … uh huh … thanks Mrs. Sipes, will do)

“Now, what was I saying? Right: Of course we need their permission. What do you think this is, a red city?”

“So, assuming you need an expert to tell you to be for it even though something has to be changed to do it, are you going to hire the expert who spoke today? Jeff Speck just told you what to do. Isn’t that cover enough?”

“Seriously, Roger, will you just try to understand the way life works? To preserve the disposable appearance of objectivity, as soon as we decide what we’re against – I mean for – then we’ll hire the same experts we’ve always hired previously. That Jorge Lanz; what a great guy, and he speaks bureaucratese without an accent. Incredible.”

“But aren’t guys like him the same ones who told you to do it the wrong way in the first place? Didn’t you hear what Speck was saying today?”

“Well, yes. I guess you could say that. Politically, we’re not against doing it the right way; it’s just that we’re not for it, either.”

---

“You’re the city’s economic development director, and what we’re trying to explain to you is that for the sake of independent small businesses downtown, two-way streets ARE economic development. Can’t you do just this one thing for us as a group?”

“We already do things for you. I’d offer you a matching façade grant right now, only the UEA’s skint since we cashed it in. Don’t you know anyone from Jeffersonville?”

“Compared to what the industrial park gets … "

“What the industrial park gets is totally justified. The industrial park is about job creation.”

“Really? My 20 employees at Bank Street Brewhouse will be happy to hear that they don’t have real jobs.”

“Roger, you just want what’s right for you.”

“Are you saying TGI Missouri does not?”

“That’s different. Just quit saying we’re not doing anything. Of course we are. We’re tap dancing as fast as we can. We’re just now learning all these newfangled ideas. We have a double secret plan, and we’re not like you, with all that time to read and ask questions. We hired away someone from One Southern Indiana, for chrissakes. Just remember: We’re not against it. But being for it … well, there’s a limit to what we can do.”

---

Tyler Allen, if you’re reading … did you have a destination in mind? Too much more of this dreaming, and I may be ready for a nap.

---

Recent columns:

July 16: ON THE AVENUES: Louisville Beer, then and now ... and cheers to Rotary.

July 9: ON THE AVENUES: A mayoral petition as prologue to history.

July 2: ON THE AVENUES: "Water on the brains: Much less for far more will keep us swimming in it."

June 25: ON THE AVENUES REWOUND: Red scarf, white shirt and San Miguel beer (2012).

June 18: ON THE AVENUES: These 10 definitions will help you speak local politics like a native.

June 11: ON THE AVENUES: This is Dan Coffey, New Albany’s quintessential Democrat.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

ON THE AVENUES: Planners only love you when they’re planning.

ON THE AVENUES: Planners only love you when they’re planning..

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

“Right now I wish I was home in my slippers, creating hatred in the family.”
--Rodney Dangerfield

Let me tell you, it was a bizarre dream.

There I was, wearing only slippers and a jock strap, in a room filled to overflowing with planning professionals. Suddenly Tyler Allen sidled over.

He asked, “Who are these people, anyway?”

“They’re professional planners,” I said.

“Wow,” he nodded. “And they don’t know these things?”

“If they do, they’re not letting on.”

“That’s what I thought. If I had dreams like this, I’d consider foregoing sleep. You ever considered moving?”

---

But was it really a dream?

The room began shaking, and I leaped from my bed and ran to the window, all the better to view two 18-wheelers, side by side, thundering in the same direction down Spring Street as an officer on speed trap duty shone his radar gun on a box of multinational doughnuts.

Like MLK, I have a dream. Unlike him, this isn’t it. Then again, I’m not a professional planner in New Albany.

---

Well, was it a dream, or was it Memorex? At times it’s hard to tell.

In the aftermath of Jeff Speck’s library chat last week, I asked New Albany’s economic development director to explain the nature of local resistance to two-way street calming.

The reason for my curiosity? Apart from tangled, strangled, plaintive social media wails here and there, discernible organized opposition to street grid reform has not been visible. No less a personage than the economic development director’s boss once told me that in his view, there exists no community sentiment either way. Such a statement implies no pro, no con … just inert. But I’m pro. Where’s the con – that whole action and reaction dichotomy? The economic development director was quick to answer.

“Oh, it’s there. We hear it all the time.”

“But from whom?”

“We get phone calls and e-mails.”

“Look, I’m out on the street every day. I’m the face of the two-way lobby, so why aren’t they saying it to me?

“Why would they do that? Of course they won’t say it to YOUR face. They’re afraid they might have to talk to you.”

“Isn’t that what we want, a discussion?”

“C’mon, Roger; be serious. You DO have a reputation, you know.

“For what, being right?”

(pause)

“You know exactly what I mean. You and your buddies, always talking down to people with facts and evidence. These people don’t have a fighting chance if they go and reveal their identities.”

“If they’re afraid of revealing their identities, then why on earth should their opinion matter? Anyway, they can always go vote, right?”

(long silence)

“Oh, I see.”

---

As I was writing today’s column, Twitter informed me of the best straight line, ever.

“Tonight's New Albany Plan Commission meeting has been cancelled.”

If a tree falls in the woods and there’s no planning commission member on hand to hear it, can we have two-way streets yet?

---

However, what started the conversation was purely semantic. On the topic of Speck’s message, I thought it was self-evident, but I was asked to be more legalistic in my dialectic.

“Roger, why do you keep saying we’re not for this, when we’re not actually against it?”

“But not being against something isn’t the same as being for it.”

“That’s my point. Right now, we can only not be against it, at least until a study lets us know whether we’re for it. Look, we can’t know we’re for it unless someone tells us to be for it.”

“Wait a minute. You’ve been for several other things lately without someone telling you to be for them. Parks, aquatic centers, Main Street improvements, farmers market upgrades … ”

“Duh! Those are for feel-good parks and hallowed rows of mansions, and everyone’s for them, including us! It’s easy to be for it when no fundamental changes are necessary. It’s when you have to change something, then obviously you can’t be for it unless an expert tells you to be for it.”

“What about the Democratic grandees? Do you need their permission, too?”

“Hell no – wait, let me get this call.”

(Yeah … uh huh … thanks Mrs. Sipes, will do)

“Now, what was I saying? Right: Of course we need their permission. What do you think this is, a red city?”

“So, assuming you need an expert to tell you to be for it even though something has to be changed to do it, are you going to hire the expert who spoke today? Jeff Speck just told you what to do. Isn’t that cover enough?”

“Seriously, Roger, will you just try to understand the way life works? To preserve the disposable appearance of objectivity, as soon as we decide what we’re against – I mean for – then we’ll hire the same experts we’ve always hired previously. That Jorge Lanz; what a great guy, and he speaks bureaucratese without an accent. Incredible.”

“But aren’t guys like him the same ones who told you to do it the wrong way in the first place? Didn’t you hear what Speck was saying today?”

“Well, yes. I guess you could say that. Politically, we’re not against doing it the right way; it’s just that we’re not for it, either.”

---

“You’re the city’s economic development director, and what we’re trying to explain to you is that for the sake of independent small businesses downtown, two-way streets ARE economic development. Can’t you do just this one thing for us as a group?”

“We already do things for you. I’d offer you a matching façade grant right now, only the UEA’s skint since we cashed it in. Don’t you know anyone from Jeffersonville?”

“Compared to what the industrial park gets … "

“What the industrial park gets is totally justified. The industrial park is about job creation.”

“Really? My 20 employees at Bank Street Brewhouse will be happy to hear that they don’t have real jobs.”

“Roger, you just want what’s right for you.”

“Are you saying TGI Missouri does not?”

“That’s different. Just quit saying we’re not doing anything. Of course we are. We’re tap dancing as fast as we can. We’re just now learning all these newfangled ideas. We have a double secret plan, and we’re not like you, with all that time to read and ask questions. We hired away someone from One Southern Indiana, for chrissakes. Just remember: We’re not against it. But being for it … well, there’s a limit to what we can do.”

---

Tyler Allen, if you’re reading … did you have a destination in mind?

Too much more of this dreaming, and I may be ready for a nap.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Sunday evenin’ comin’ down … way, way down.

When I saw all the little people dressed in their Sunday finest, marching single file through the pet door into the crawl space below the Luddite Bar & Grill, I knew something was up – make that “down” – and that big guys like me weren’t likely to be on the invitation list.

Luckily, there was a hidden spot I knew behind the visibly listing building, where the vinyl siding was pulled away by that whining mutt they used to keep chained up back there. I wedged my bulk down between the busted AC unit and the reeking foundation, and peeked through the water-damaged plywood by the old coal chute.

Damned if it didn’t look like a genuine backwoods, old-style camp meeting. The cigar boxes were lined up like dominoes, and luminous pocket pen lights covered the walls. Kids were roasting Lucky Charms over a Sterno blaze in back, and the way the light came peeping through the cracks from weathered linoleum covering the barroom floor upstairs looked like stars twinkling.

A battered Realistic cassette tape player with green plastic on top and a “Kentucky Colonels – ABA Champs” decal was being frantically clicked by a wee DJ, crackling out agitated protest songs of despair, fury, hope and salvation … and occasionally, to placate the one-chord councilman, the latest Fats Domino chart topper. The crowd was edgy and excited.

The little plastic cocktail olive spears doubling as pitchforks were a nice touch, I thought.

Then I heard unsteady foot steps, and cautiously rolled over to scan the vacant lot behind me. It was just Winkin and Blinkin – no Nod, as he’d been keeping a low profile since he got caught planting those Tricky Dicky signs on the front lawn at IU Southeast. They looked to be sharing a bag of double cheese sliders with peach schapps chasers.

Like I said, Winkin, at least Steve Price has those family values. That’s why he had to vote against safe new police cars. It’s a matter of fiscal priorities, by Gawd. You just can’t go opening those Pandora’s boxes if you want to keep grandmaw's cookie jar right there by the cart where the horse oughta be, right?

Blinkin, you’re preachin’ to the choir, dude. Cop cars? Hell, that adds up to a couple of bucks a year each one of us taxpayers has to pay, and what for? We still can’t legally drag race on Spring Street or smoke pot in public. Now they wanna go and inspect rental properties? How ya gonna make money off guys even dumber and smaller than we are if you go to doin’ that? Price’ll put a stop to that one, too.

Regress over politics, Blinkin, that’s what I've always said. You know what really soils my trousers? That whole Scribner Place thing. It’s just gotta go. Can you imagine the type of people who’d pay to be healthy? Bunch of leftist sissies. Might as well give ‘em one of them tax abutments while you’re at it – Con-Dem says they’re nasty, nasty bad.

(CLINK – A peachy dead soldier hits the ground)

It’ll be okay, Winkin. It’s definitely the final nail in Jimmy's political career, all right. Same thing with Commander Buzzed Lightyear – like I told him, you do not own this City's right-of-ways, the citizens do. All us taxpayers pay for IUS’s grass – why can’t ol’ Nod put a few of humble Dick’s signs there?

Blinkin, it’s simple. The disrespect shown to Council and to the Citizens by the Mayor and his Administration can no longer be tolerated. I’m votin’ for that chick, Valli Villa Anna – she’s married to that councilman Schmidt, right?

Could be. Maybe they're just one big family. Winkin, you know what really rings my dinger? Blacks, Jews, and gays – God, what’s next?

You the man, Blinkin. The NBA definitely just hasn’t been the same since Larry Legend retired …

(THUNK – there went dessert)

After a quick tandem whiz by the oozing fire hydrant, the intruders went back inside for a few tasty ice-cold Lite beers, and I turned back to the crawl space to find the little people's revival in full swing.

“We will overcome Jimmy G some day, some day,” concluded the chorus of singers, and as a mouth organ hummed solemnly, the caped Grand Trogmentator stepped to the milk crate, leaned into the pink Mr. Microphone, and intoned:

“Some sweet day, Lawd, and not a moment too soon, we will overcome Jimmy G. and the pergessives.”

“Jimmy G, you work for me,” yelled a gaunt man on a fixed income. His "Big Johnson" tee was tattered but clean.

“Some sweet day, there’s gonna come a great big bubble through these overpriced and undersized sewage pipes of ours, and you know what this great big bubble is gonna be?”

“Whassit gonna be?”

“I’ll tell you, sister. It’s gonna be the instrument of our salvation, it’s gonna be the great big bubble that sets us free from these chains – it gonna be that Federal agent in a mighty wrathful sewer submarine!”

“Hallelujah!”

“F-Man in a mad sub!”

“Them pergessives’ll never think to look down there – tee hee!”

“Yes, long suffering children of the anti-Garner downtrodden masses, we’ve endured this overarching prog conspiracy for years. I say God knows we’ve tried on our own to break the soul-crushing chains, but we’re just little people and those nasty Garnerites retaliate by making us sign our names ‘n’ other shit.”

“Boo -- anything but that,” screamed a lady, who then fainted dead away into the arms of Jethro.

“Lawd, we need help, and that gleaming white-robed Federal agent – he will be coming here to New Albany to help little old us! He will be coming here to New Albany to incarcerate that uppity Jimmy G., and throw away the key!”

“Praise the F-Man!”

“Praise the F-Man!”

“Yes, little people, He will be coming to usher in a new age of justice, wisdom and lower bills for the salt of the earth, and what’s best about it is that we need only to wish … and wishing will make it so!

“Jimmy G, you work for me!”

“Jimmy G, you work for me!”

So began the chant. It grew and grew, and the Luddite Bar & Grill seemed almost to levitate above the slumlord properties all around the neighborhood, although it might have been the fat guy singing “Tequila Sunrise” at weekly karaoke in the public barroom upstairs.

No matter. The little people were rolling on the dirt, speaking in strange tongues (“Mein Fuhrer, I kann valk!”) and fondling terrified little newts and salamanders, and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I’d passed through a sewer line myself. When I came out the other side, I was no longer in New Albany – instead, it was a big Bosch painting, and the darkest triptych panel was far behind me, and unnoticed by the patrons of the Prado in Madrid, I was climbing down the garden’s other side.

I stood up and dusted off my clothes, exited the crowded museum to the north, strolled onto the Calle de felipe IV, and stopped for espresso at a clean and well lighted café on the way to the nice park I remember from '89. It was too early for tapas, so I bought a creamy chocolate treat at the counter.

New Albany’s little people seemed very, very far away.

In point of fact ... they are.