South of Sunnyside

Last week, discussion started about the implications of the 2008-2009 American Human Development Report, which ranks California’s 20th congressional district as dead last out of 436 districts nationwide, with regards to the well-being of its residents.

On Sunday, Bill McEwen at the Bee claimed that poverty, not business or agriculture, is the business of the Valley, recalling the 2005 Brookings Institute report that highlighted the Valley as having the highest concentration of poverty in the country.

But for once, we’re not last. Not even close, which means we’ll lose out on the governator’s Community Stabilization Home Loan Program. According to the official press release:

Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger today announced the launch of the Community Stabilization Home Loan Program, a special program designed to help first-time homebuyers purchase homes in communities hardest hit by the foreclosure crisis.  Under the program, first-time homebuyers will be eligible for below-market interest rate loans to purchase foreclosed homes in ZIP codes with some of the state’s highest foreclosure rates.

So far, so good. With all the abandoned properties around, surely we’ll get some help here in the 937XX. But no:

Run by the California Housing Finance Agency, a state agency that finances safe, affordable loans for first-time homebuyers, the program will be available in ZIP codes identified as the most impacted by foreclosures in California including Riverside, Stanislaus, San Joaquin and Merced counties. Areas in Los Angeles, Contra Costa and Alameda counties are also included.  Several lenders have agreed to partner in the program and offer sales prices on bank-owned properties at least 12 percent below estimated value in the identified ZIP codes.

I guess it’s good that we won’t be included?

Kim and I drove out to Kerman a few weeks back for a birthday party for her nephew. On the way back, she wanted to take a detour down Kearney Blvd. We drove for miles, surrounded by nothing but tall palms and eucalyptus trees (or so it seemed).

Finally, we arrived at Running Horse—what once was Running Horse, anyway. A few signs of life surrounded by decaying landscape.

I toured the development back in 2005 with Leadership Fresno, when things were greener. The golf course was under way, and dozens of homes had already been built; in fact, our class was told that they were selling out of lots faster than they were being opened up. Cost of a home back then: $350,000 – $1,000,000, not including a $50,000 country club membership.

What’s left of the golf course is mostly dead grass and trees, but much of the cart path is paved. I took note of this, and last week I returned with a friend and two bikes. We rode around for a while, imagining what could have been.

I hear that the entire development may have recently been purchased, but in case the rumor’s not true, and assuming that Trump’s interest hasn’t renewed, I wonder what the maintenance costs of converting the course to open green space would be.

It’s certainly not wise, given the water shortage, to flood the would-be golf course to get the grass growing again, but maybe the paths could be preserved, and the property divided into sustainable gardens. Rock gardens, cactus gardens (like the one at the Discovery Center)—you get the idea. A Woodward Park, of sorts, of West Fresno.

Sure, Kearney Park is just around the corner, but it’s fenced in, and less green space than historical preserve (in terms of use, not actual space, or green grass). This could be something different. Something Fresno.

In hopes of discovering another stretch of serenity on the bike, I expanded my route yesterday, heading east up the train tracks to Armstrong, and then north by northwest until I connected with the canal at Fowler.

I added over two miles to my usual ride, and indeed found a quiet stretch of trail; I also found a beautiful neighborhood due east of the proposed Fancher Creek shopping center.

Unfortunately, parts of the route weren’t well-traveled, and I encountered a bit of loose dirt and dozens of thorns, which Wikipedia labels as “fruit” when they’re still attached to the Tribulus terrestris weed.

After a couple of hours at my favorite table in Starbucks, I mounted my bike to ride home, only to discover my back tire was completely flat. Fortunately, a friend game me a lift home, but when I went out to put the bike in my garage a little while later, the front tire was flat, too.

Looks like I’ll be making a trip to the Schwinn shop this afternoon.

Before we adopted Hercules from Animal Rescue of Fresno, Kim had never lived with an in-door dog (notice that I avoid the use of a reference to ownership of the dog, as dogs own us).

It didn’t take long for the addiction to consume her. Before moving out of her parents’ basement and into a home of our own, we had adopted Bella, and just seven months later we let Darla move in. With three dogs now sleeping on the bed, I drew the line (which Kim has tried to cross countless times since).

She claims she now has some sort of radar and can sense when a dog is loose in her vicinity. I’m doubtful, but whether she’s found a sixth sense or not, we made room for a runaway on Friday night. She was cute, but I insisted that Kim take her in to the SPCA on Saturday.

Fortunately, the dog had been rescued before, marked with a chip, and re-named Hope. She needed a bit of medical attention for a flea allergy and an infected ear, but the SPCA assured Kim they’d be in touch with Hope’s family.

Good thing, too, because she was damn cute.