About a neighbor named Kelley

[karlsie]

It was a brisk, autumn day with the bright, gold leaves still simmering on the trees; a perfect day for walking to work. Walking is never a chore in Chugiak, unless it's below zero, which happens pretty often in the winter; or in other unpleasant conditions like pouring rain and strong winds; but that comes with the territory. We always say, if Alaska was warmer, we'd have a lot more people so it's better if she shows her nasty habits once in awhile to keep the faint-hearted at bay. We are ridged with mountains, the houses are far apart, and most of them set back from the main road.

One of the pleasantest parts of the walks is walking by the hub of Chugiak; a very small area that contains some closely set houses, a school, a church and a couple of small stores. This is the original township of Chugiak. All the buildings there date back to when the town was first founded in 1950.

Besides a zillion childhood memories, Old Chugiak has found an additional charm in recent years. It acquired a bubbling, innovative, tiny woman; pushing her middle aged years but still looking good, named Kelley. Kelley purchased what had started out as a church (a very small, plain one), was converted into a post office, then changed ownership several times, going through several transitions as a bridle, saddle and tack shop, an art studio and a grocery store. Kelley gave it a new false brick front, arranged old fashioned shutters into the windows and turned it into a knick knack shop. Within her store, she stuffed a hodge podge of collector items, antiques, period clothing and local hand crafts.

There's nothing truly amazing to say about her store; this type of enterprise is popular in every town. The amazing part is Kelley. Old timers and locals are just a bit clannish. They're friendly toward new-comers but don't immediately embrace them into their social niches. This didn't daunt Kelley. She made a special effort to meet each and every one of her neighbors, bringing them a special gift; usually a jar of home made jam or a scented candle, or sometimes offering a hot cup of tea with a dash of rum in cold weather. If they wanted to stand out in their yards or sit by the store in a lawn chair, she was accommodating.

It wasn't long before everyone was trimming up their houses, putting on fresh coats of paint that complimented the quaint atmosphere of Kelley's little store, and generally presenting a united neighborhood of flower pots, picket fences and rustic accessories.


(Kelley's store in Old Chugiak)

Even then, Kelley wasn't quite satisfied. She found an outhouse, one of those classic ones with a pointed roof and a crescent moon over the door, painted it the same brick red and placed it behind the store. The toilet inside actually had plumbing, but the purpose was a public toilet for the occasional wanderer and hiker that passed through the town.

Today, i noticed something new in Kelley's subversive design to cheer up the world. Across the highway from the store is a bus stop; one of those standard ones that consist of nothing more than a pole at the side of the rode promising you the bus stops there at certain times. Earlier this summer, she had placed a couple plastic and metal chairs out there so people could sit down while waiting for the bus. Today, she had added something more. A long piece of weather beaten driftwood had been tacked to the pole. In the center was a basket of nicely arranged, artificial flowers.

Of course, i smiled. Of course, i shook my head. I couldn't help but compare our cheerful little bus stop with the ones in Anchorage. In Anchorage, they had booths to shelter you from the cold, with benches inside. Some even have heaters. Vandals periodically break the windows of the booths, try to dismantle the heaters and cover the walls with pornography. All we had was a metal pole announcing a bus stop, but Kelley made it something more; something better. If every town had a Kelley, the world would be a better place, but since there aren't so many Kelleys to go around, i'm glad we got one.

[karlsie]

Whoops! I didn't mean for the photo to post so large, but maybe you'll all have more fun with it that way, or maybe Mitch will fix it. He's a lot better at sizing than i am.

[The Late Mitchell Warren]

That's cute, K. Glad there are still some good-hearted people in the world.

[grainnerhuad]

You know, yesterday in our local alternative weekly. There was a guest commentary written by a 24 yr old Homeless woman. It was a bit of bad press for the homeless because she was so accusatory and blaming, telling people that working at the Jesus Center (Our local soup/shower/clothing/computer/haircut/shop for homeless people) was not enough. I was taken aback by that . Obviously it isn't enough but she was encouraging people to stop doing it. She didn't seem to understand that the voluteers she disdained there keep the place going.
Anyway, she went on to talk about doing more, blah, blah, blah. But gave no ideas other than to tell your problems to a homeless person. Which seems weird. But I was feeling if someone in the situation has no ideas how on earth can the average Jo come up with ideas for something they have never experienced. I pictured a bunch of people telling themselves they would surely no longer volunteer at the Jesus Center as that is insulting to all Homeless people.
I like this model your friend is living. It is in the quiet helpful things that we see true caring for the comfort of others. This is an idea that can be implemented. In the "Great" depression Hobos would draw or carve little cat signs on the fences of ladies who were compassionate to tell the next passerby. They came to be called "Kind Hearted Lady" signs. We should all strive to deserve those signs. And real things can be done. Some of us aren't as imaginative, some are walking the line between work and homelessness what we need is not attacks on working programs but more ideas like this. I am thinking you should do a write-up.

[karlsie]

I'm telling you, these out of whack margins are a killer, but i'm trying to compensate about as well as a one legged man might do in an ass kicking contest. Grainne, one of the things that occurred to me after passing our newly decorated bus stop, was a certain ingratitude expressed for some very considerate public services. Anchorage has sheltered booths, with benches inside to keep warm and comfortable. Instead of turning these booths into cheery little waiting rooms, they are vandalized and thrashed. There are so many people who seem to believe that because they were born, the world owes them a favor. The world owes them nothing. It gives them tools to work with, but it's up to the individual to make the best of them. Some people are born into more fortunate circumstances, with more readily available tools, but that doesn't mean it was because that's what the world owed them. It only means they got lucky.

It's wrong to make a people incapable of owning shelters or affording their own food, but it's also wrong for people to believe this is what is owed them whether they work for it or not. If each town said, "here is some land for building a shelter. Here is the lumber, the nails and the hammers. Everyone is welcome to build a home that needs one"... i wonder how many would pick up the saws, the hammers, the boards and go to work on their shelter. My criticism of Anchorage board of direction was there was plenty of land, plenty of materials, plenty of willing workers; yet they were not allowed to build anywhere, nor were they allowed to afford shelter. Nobody will help the man whose cart is mired in the mud but only screams and curses at the cart to get up and travel on, yet many will stop to help the man diligently attempting to free the wheels so the cart can move once more. The homeless who curse their assistants are cursing the cart stuck in the mud. The homeless who are trying to find solutions to their problems are the ones straining against the cart. These are the ones we need to listen to and these are the ones who will ultimately find answers.