Almost to Michigan!
Another day and another state. We are out of Illinois and into Indiana. About 63 of us took an alternate route into the Roseland area of Chicago. This was a Dutch Reformed and Christian Reformed enclave decades ago. In the mid-sixties there were eight very large congregations in this area. Today there are two. They are not white, nor Dutch, or much into traditional reformed worship. All of that is good.
In the 1970s, there was a huge exodus from Roseland into the suburbs of Chicago like Orland Park, Palos Park, Palos Heights, Tinley Park and such places. My extended family was a part of that migration. When I was young and in my early teens I remember going to Roseland with my mom, having Thanksgiving, and other special occasions in that part of Chicago.
Today was a return to my roots. I saw the hospital where I was born. I crossed the street where my aunt and uncle lived. I remember hearing Mom and Dad talk about 111th street, State Street, and Michigan Avenue. The neighborhoods looked like I remember then as a kid although not as big or impressive. My grandfather used to be a builder. He built homes in Roseland. My regret is that we did not have enough time. I would have loved to take a day or two and just ride my bicycle around the neighborhoods.
Some of us were worried about gang violence, about a bunch of white folks riding around on expensive bicycles in a black ghetto. All we saw and experienced were smiles, appreciation, and lots of curiosity. Why are we so fearful? One of my friends on this bicycle tour is a correction officer in one of our Michigan prisons. Michigan, by the way, has the highest incarceration rate in the nation. Some of his inmates are from Roseland.
I met Juanita at the Roseland Christian Community Center. She is a single mother of one 10 year old boy. She lives off Section Eight Housing assistance. She does Home Based Health Care for others. I don't think she had it all together and she might have been imbibing some alcohol early this morning. She told me about her family from Birmingham, Alabama, her siblings living and working from Texas to Nebraska. She is just one face and name of a person who lives in poverty in a very poor area of Chicago. Such is the challenge and legacy of discrimination found in the poverty-striken neighborhoods of our great nation, a neighborhood that gave birth, life, and a future to me.
In the 1970s, there was a huge exodus from Roseland into the suburbs of Chicago like Orland Park, Palos Park, Palos Heights, Tinley Park and such places. My extended family was a part of that migration. When I was young and in my early teens I remember going to Roseland with my mom, having Thanksgiving, and other special occasions in that part of Chicago.
Today was a return to my roots. I saw the hospital where I was born. I crossed the street where my aunt and uncle lived. I remember hearing Mom and Dad talk about 111th street, State Street, and Michigan Avenue. The neighborhoods looked like I remember then as a kid although not as big or impressive. My grandfather used to be a builder. He built homes in Roseland. My regret is that we did not have enough time. I would have loved to take a day or two and just ride my bicycle around the neighborhoods.
Some of us were worried about gang violence, about a bunch of white folks riding around on expensive bicycles in a black ghetto. All we saw and experienced were smiles, appreciation, and lots of curiosity. Why are we so fearful? One of my friends on this bicycle tour is a correction officer in one of our Michigan prisons. Michigan, by the way, has the highest incarceration rate in the nation. Some of his inmates are from Roseland.
I met Juanita at the Roseland Christian Community Center. She is a single mother of one 10 year old boy. She lives off Section Eight Housing assistance. She does Home Based Health Care for others. I don't think she had it all together and she might have been imbibing some alcohol early this morning. She told me about her family from Birmingham, Alabama, her siblings living and working from Texas to Nebraska. She is just one face and name of a person who lives in poverty in a very poor area of Chicago. Such is the challenge and legacy of discrimination found in the poverty-striken neighborhoods of our great nation, a neighborhood that gave birth, life, and a future to me.
posted by Jan at
10:00 PM
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