A Chair

My neighborhood has some interesting people, objects, and behavior. Many of them are beautiful things; just as many are ugly.

Several yards on my block have great rose bushes. The roses, for the most part, smell good and vary in nice colors.

I have seen more people smiling recently than in the first few months I lived there. That's a beautiful thing.

The parties, the music, and the families mostly reflect positive cultural values.

But the neighborhood's smells are terrible. Both the grocery store and the adjacent meat shop at the end of the block give off a terrible odor. And did you hear me complain after the 4th of July - how the fireworks had me feeling like I was in Baghdad - with a thick smoke spread over the entire block and city?

Also, there's this awful (but once beautiful) chair on Broadway that draws my attention every time I pass it. A couple months ago, it appeared there, underneath a tree and in front of someone's home. I assumed that some city service would soon pick it up. I believe most neighborhoods get that kind of service.

The chair is upholstered tan. It looks like it belongs in a relatively fancy home's study, right next to the wood-paneled stand up lamp and bookcases.

But the chair in my neighborhood, the chair that has stains of feces, mold, and hot fries; the chair that sits at 41st and Broadway; the chair that could be comfortable and was at one time clean enough to read in; it sits on the corner and festers.

The chair is as neglected as the rest of the neighborhood. And its collecting more grime right now. Though a city council member's office is located only a mile away, the most attention my neighborhood (and its chairs on sidewalks) gets is a late-night rumble and flood-light-flash from police helicopters. That's disappointing.

Even with all this disappointment, the neighborhood's great and the people still smile.