South of Sunnyside

UPDATE: I pinged the City of Fresno last night, and received a prompt reply encouraging me to call 621-CITY. I did that today, and was told that city arborists would be sent out to assess the situation.

I really hoped we had seen the worst of the housing market.

But this weekend, Kim talked to the neighbors and discovered that the family across the street is putting their home up for short sell; if it doesn’t sell within a few months, they’ve already decided they’ll just let it go.

The family that rents next to them will also be moving soon—the owners have previously neglected to care for the home, so I don’t have high hopes that they’ll maintain it now.

Three houses down from them, a home twice the size of ours is for sale for the price we paid for ours.

Around the corner from them, another home has been abandoned, and now bears the yellow stains of decaying grass. Another abandoned home sits another three houses down.

As if this didn’t fill my life with enough cheer, a significant number—as many as 20, perhaps—of the trees lining the south side of California Avenue between, Fowler and Clovis, look to be dying. I think our neighborhood is giving up on itself.

Perhaps these trees are over zealous with excitement about the eventual change of seasons. Maybe they’re simply not getting enough water. Whatever the cause of the browning leaves, it’s only affecting trees on the south side of the road. Our side of the road, that is.

I’d like to say that I’ve been monitoring the progress of this construction site in front of the Sunnyside GB3, but truth be told, I haven’t been to the gym in months, and this just wasn’t there the last time I worked out.

Anyone know what it is?

Earlier this week I let loose on Twitter with a series of posts mocking propaganda attached to the opposition of Obama’s address to America’s schoolchildren. Opposition wasn’t my target; fear-mongering and polarization were. This morning, as I thought back eight years to where I was on September 11, 2001, I realized that I, too, was only feeding a frenzy.

When the towers went up in flames, I was at a Youth With a Mission base in Colorado, preparing an extended trip out of the country; needless to say, security at the airports was tight. I spent the next two months immersed in another culture, separated from the emotional turmoil felt back home.

I hope we never forget those who fell victim to such a horrible act of violence.

I also hope, however, that we learn to stop polarizing our communities, cultures, countries and everyday conversations. In war, or politics, or religion, or economics (or …) we seem bent on painting others as enemies—whether they’re 3,000 miles away, or right across the street.

That’s how I’d like to honor the victims of 9/11: by opening myself up to others’ perspectives, and acknowledging that even when we disagree, we can still be civil and respectful.

I have a long way to go. It won’t be easy. Anyone with me?

Kim and I took the Harley out for a short ride to Centerville. On our way back, we passed by the Frosty King in Sanger, which either offers a decent bargain on DRINKS, or one hell of a markup.

Either way, we’ll consider this a sign fail.