Change of Seasons

I got the leaves raked and the gutters cleaned in our little morning sun break. I also raked the leaves of a few neighbors who hadn’t gotten to theirs. I’m not doing it as an altruistic act, though it feels good, but because I want their leaves for my compost. I’ve gotten leaves from the city in the past, and it’s a great program, but they bring too many and sometimes they’re full of walnuts, which brings me too many squirrels, and I prefer to know where my leaves are coming from. Plus, raking leaves is one of the best chores there is, and even in the drizzle I love it. When it gets really stormy sometimes I go out and clear the street gutters so we don’t get flooding. I’m not bragging, but there are lots of neighborly people and I like to try to be one. Once when I returned from a vacation my neighbors who were feeding my cat had filled my fridge with bread, milk, and fresh food for me and my toddler, so I have been schooled in generosity.

I personally am not naturally a very generous person. Coming from deprivation, it’s been a challenge to believe in abundance and enough caring to go around, so over the decades I’ve taken a lot of lessons in it. It still takes an effort, with the attendant effort in believing I am also worthy to receive, and can be graceful and say thank you without all that damn Catholic guilt. I live in a wonderful neighborhood, so it’s my duty to make it more wonderful every chance I get.

At the Market our neighborships are hidden but key to our survival. Even if you are walled off in your little 8x8 you need other people to watch for the many spontaneous happenings that might affect you. There isn’t a lot of shoplifting because we gang up fast if someone tries it. One person will call Security, everyone will notice the person so they can be described or photographed, and we’ll back each other up as needed. Most potential hazards are dealt with by whomever notices them, even picking up garbage. We work together in weather, in promoting sales, in directing customers to our competition if that’s what they’re looking for. We share information, tips on lifting, stuff we’ve run across that might help someone else. It’s the most non-competitive group I’ve ever been in. We do feel like family or a village. Even though the constellation of booths is changed a little every week, we welcome each other and usually get close. We buy each other’s crafts and food. Mutual support is highly valued, as it takes all of us to make it work.

My booth is up against the fountain and I don’t actually have a fourth corner. Since I mostly use umbrellas and a flexible setup, I don’t need it, and have learned to work with the shape and maximize my space. The curve also provides me a little space behind that I use to store my bike and trailer and tubs so all of my booth space is open for customers. I like to bring people in out of the aisle, so traffic can flow, so we all can be in the shade, and so they don’t feel pushed down the row if the aisles get crowded. This mainly works because my neighbor, Raven, is open to a fluid border between us. Sometimes I sit or stand in what is technically his space, or we sit together in the back. When my relatives came he let them sit down right in the way of everything because they are old and wanted to be close by. He also stores his cart in the back space, though in his corner space he doesn’t have any. We do that with the cooperation of the person on his other side, who doesn’t need the back space.

When it rains, I have to bring a pop-up, as umbrellas are not workable (not that I haven’t tried.) Those booths are heavy, hard to put up, and I don’t like the uniform look when every booth looks the same. Plus if you bring a booth you have to bring weights. Our policy is 25 pounds per leg. For a biker, the added weight of 75 pounds of sand is daunting, so I have to leave some stock home. That works okay as rainy days work better if I pull stuff in a bit and put it closer together so it stays dry.

But Raven, who used to bike, is now walking his cart and he can’t bring weight bags, so we fasten our booths together and share. It’s strong enough if not technically in compliance. Our booths won’t blow over the way we do it. I bring a different grid setup so I can rest the fourth corner on a grid and fasten to it. We also use a little gutter between our booths to channel the rain to the back so we have lots of dry-ish space in the middle. That way we really can come to sell in the rain. So I’ll be there tomorrow.

Both of us are getting older, and he has a year or two on me and more injuries, so he has actually started skipping a time or two. I’ve considered it, but so far the lure of the gathering is enough to get me up and out with rain gear and fortitude. The maybe twenty percent of us members who are reaching our bodily limits for outdoor selling are all looking to have things be easier, little by little, so we can continue. Not having a regular wage has a few drawbacks, like less in savings and not much of a retirement fund. No employer kicks in any benefits for us. Until Obama most of us didn’t have health insurance.

I feel pretty good about my situation, with my mortgage paid off and my craft dialed in so I can probably continue to make it unless something dire happens. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to bike or print. I figure if I keep doing it, that’s my best chance. That’s what all my elders say: keep doing the things you want to do and you’ll maintain that capacity. That’s my plan, as thin as it is.

But I need things to stay easy-ish and not get harder. I can get downtown from my west-side house. I wouldn’t be able to get all the way to the Riverfront, for instance, or to sell someplace uphill from me. I do have a car, but getting things in and out of it, and schlepping them with a handcart, is twice the lifting at least, and much more walking than I do now. I’m typical in that I have compromised upper and lower body parts. Most craftspeople develop repetitive motion problems, and most aging people do as well. Parts wear out. The harder you work the earlier it seems to happen, all depending on your luck and genetics. I’ve had good genes and luck, but it’s a hard day. Don’t get any of us started on our complaints; everyone has something. Nowdays even young people do, as we’ve forgotten how to really keep active and properly aligned in many cases.

But at this end of the 2017 season I’m still hale and hearty and ready for two wettish weeks and lots of warm interactions as we finish out on the blocks. There is that stressful city plan that, as of this moment, still calls for the Park Blocks to close this spring for a year and a half. The City hasn’t said much about that. They’ve indicated that we’ll get another year of building the LQC interventions to change the culture of the Park, and I expect them to formally say that on November 29^th at the City Council worksession when they report on the summer. We’ve told them that we need to stay open, and we think they heard us, but I wouldn’t say our confidence in our site is really in place.

Now that the deck is finally finished, it makes sense to use it, and it never made sense to level the Parks and start over as the PPS plan advises, but the City hasn’t said they won’t do that. Building on the programs of last summer is smart, to see if more people will hear about them and participate. My assessment is that the culture of the Park changed radically when people stopped living in it. There was an ownership going on that made me uncomfortable when I used it.

Of course I feel my own sense of ownership after 34 years in the Park Blocks. I’ve logged a lot of hours in my two days a week for so many years. I don’t actually remember when the farmers started selling on Tuesdays, but I know I’ve done over a decade of co-selling with them. I’ve made friends with the Park Host, Daniel, and we talk about all kinds of issues about the Park. He keeps me informed on little things I’m interested in, which for me range from site issues like the walls and fountain to the groups and activities there, as well as whatever we can figure out about our possible futures. He’s a really good guy and I think he’s been a big part of keeping some safety there. I know one Tuesday when I had a flat on my trailer, I could leave it all there while I went home to get my car, without fearing that I would come back and find it gone.

It’s safe there now. People use the tables and chairs, and sometimes those people look odd or maybe passing through, but I have found everyone to be friendly and there isn’t anything like we had last year, when things were way too wild. The implementations of the LQC process have worked. I’m thankful that the City tried so many things and found some success with many. I wish I could attend the lighting event but I’ll be setting up for Holiday Market. I hope there are a few things this winter that I can participate in.

I really, really hope the Park does not close. I can’t imagine the sensibility of putting all this energy into it and then derailing it by closing it and stopping it all, including the life I have built there. I do want what the community wants, unless it is that. Moving Saturday Market out, to some interim location, and then back in (or not), would derail me and probably kill the magic. I know my neighborhood of cooperation would disappear, and since it wouldn’t be easier, I might too. We know we have anywhere from a quarter to a half of our members who would not follow that plan. I hope the City listens when we say that.

We’ve grown into that park like an orchard, now bearing fruit. We need to know that we can maintain our lives there, and reap the benefits of our decades of investments. We need certainty.

I will be listening intently to the City staff when they report to Council. I’ll be open, but cautious. I saw how the deck played out, so I have no illusions that closing the park would be a brief interval that we would fully recover from. It would not. The Park Blocks have to stay open for us. That’s all I’ll say for now, but I’ll be saying more on the subject. Rain or shine,  we’re the Oldest Continuous Weekly Handcrafted Market in the Nation. That’s legacy brought forward, and worth preserving, like the beautiful downtown Park Blocks.