The past few months I’ve started to approach blogging as a profession with what some would consider my overly simplistic beliefs about the ability of a site to serve as a tool for change instead of just another receptacle for pundits and writers to save their thoughts. It’s led me to realize that some may in fact lose their soul while others cling to beliefs with passion that makes you wonder why they didn’t write as their first profession.
I’ve learned that while the idea of a community blog for the sake of moving a region forward is beautiful and idealistic in nature, the capitalistic nature of our society forces the notion into the structured boxes of the ordinary rather than allowing it to spread its wings and grow, serving as the virtual town square that the area so desperately needs. I’ve learned that viral marketing in a town that still clings to the past like Linus does to his security blanket is worth it, but much slower than I thought it would be. I’ve realized that as much as the city yearns to prove that it’s not stuck in its ways that at times it acts worse than what people expect it to, especially in the areas of race and crime.
I’ve also seen some of our region’s most beautiful moments, captured forever (or until someone feels the need to erase the cached image) on monitors around the world, providing a glimpse of the region’s promise and potential. I’ve seen people become moved with a person’s tragedy and cheer strangers on in their accomplishments.
Today many in the nation will take a moment to honor the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. during unity breakfasts, prayer…
The question nowadays is one of whether or not we need civic organizations to allow for civic engagement. Or maybe a better question is how many organizations are really needed – and why?
The Ramble: A doorway to the world
Published by Andre on September 11, 2009Four and a half of my eleven years in Savannah, GA were spent manning the front desk of the Eliza Thompson House between 3-11 p.m. on weekdays. That red front door was a doorway onto the world that I remember fondly. I never knew who was going to walk in or what adventures could be lived vicariously while sitting in the house’s front parlor.
It helped make talking much easier. Having to answer the phone and have conversations with folks from across the country and the world that made it easier to speak without fear of stuttering. There are folks that say they’re waiting to leave a message when they realize that it’s actually me talking to them live. I could easily write posts about the people I got to meet over the years and what I learned in the process.
There were a lot of famous people though I only sought one autograph from a person during that entire period; that water-damaged copy of The President’s Daughter is one that I enjoyed reading tremendously.
There were politicians, humanitarians, university department chairs, law enforcement officers and planners. There was the doctor who came in once a month to do surgery and the pharaceutical representative from the West Coast who always talked about driving her convertible with the top down. There was the couple who came to town every year to sail overseas on a container ship when I could here about the previous year’s journey and the numerous couples who came to town to see if they could live there. There were the high school seniors who visited Savannah to see if SCAD was the place for them and the parents who timidly hoped that life would be OK afterwards.
I remember watching horse-drawn carriages along Jones Street on Christmas Eve and trying to get over to City Market to eat dinner before the kitchens closed for the holiday and some memories that will never fade away.
This time of year brings one particular memory to mind.