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Thread: Listen

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
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    Listen

    Hi all - here is a non-historical story I am mulling about and would appreciate your comments.

    ************************************************** ****************

    Listen children to a story
    That was written long ago…


    I had learned to listen to the still quiet voice - the one in my mind that from time to time said no or run, or do that. I had always prospered when I had listened and run into huge problems when I hadn’t. A friend once asked me how I made my decisions. I told her about the still quiet voice. I then got a lecture on how when you talk to God its praying but if you start hearing Him then you are just a little itzy bitsy psychtzy. In other words, according to her, I was certifiable. I distanced myself from that woman. Friends like that you don’t need.

    I had married Trevor even though the voice had said not smart but I had been blinded by his good looks, easy boyish charm and his chameleon-like ability to transform himself into whatever it was I needed. I had spent a painful two years learning that his vows meant nothing to him and that my carefully save bank balance meant everything. In the end, I had got free with only our son to show for it and while I would not have traded Zeb for the world, being endowed with some worldly goods would have helped greatly.

    I had discovered far too late that my ex had beguiled a mortgage officer at my bank and had so completely bamboozled her that she transferred of my small home into his name. He then mortgaged it to the hilt and took off with the money, my small amount of jewelry, dumping the mortgage officer on his way out of town. I had found this out the morning the Bailiff’s arrived to seize the property. I tried calling Trevor on his cell but it was disconnected. The Sheriff had come round at my call and looked everything over. He agreed that it should not have been able to happen, but that it had happened and there was not much he could do beyond file charges against my ex and the mortgage officer. I had been able to convince the Sheriff and Bailiff to let me get Zeb’s clothes, cot and toys. The Bailiff, by then looking distinctly uncomfortable, had let me take my clothes, family photos and some basic kitchen items. Luckily for me, he didn’t recognize the value of the All-American pressure canner, or the cast iron cookware, or the mangle and washtub. He also looked at me and my son and let me take all the food I could stuff in to my car and home-made trailer. I suspect more because it was all home canned and he knew it would just get thrown out. As he said to the Sheriff, “I hate these evictions and I’ll be damned if that woman had any idea this was on the agenda.” The Sheriff had agreed saying, “She really got taken.”

    That afternoon, I walked across the street to another bank and with a letter of introduction and explanation from the Sheriff, a copy of the charges filed, five-years’ worth of pay stubs from my employer, and copies of my bank statement for the past 10 years, they grudgingly allowed me to open an account. However when the next payment date on the mortgage rolled around, the original bank tried to collect and it took the Sheriff to point out that not only had the bank assisted with the theft of my house but they had also then seized it, as the house was no longer in my name or possession, nor had the mortgage been taken out by me, they were not entitled to anything from me.

    Single mothers, without familial support, and formerly married to con men were not a good risk. My world became very small, very fast as friends disappeared. But I was too busy to notice until later, but I valued those who stuck around and supported me. The odd pot of soup, a chocolate bar or even flowers and a note stuck in the door, lifted me.

    Meantime, I had priorities. I had a son, and we needed a home and fast. So, Priority #2, after sorting out the bank, was to find an apartment. The Bailiff had suggested an apartment building his cousin managed.

    The apartment wasn’t much, just a one bedroom on the ground floor of an old building, but beggars can’t be choosers. The sole redeeming features of the apartment were its immediate availability, low price ($900/month inc. heat/hydro/internet), and a small strip of land along a chain-link fence backing onto the railway line that the building manager would allow me to turn into a garden at no additional cost. I spent the spring preparing the ground and then planted, experimenting and learning while saving my pennies.

    If I was considered a risky investment, then this building caught between the railway and the highway was equally troubled. Once the H-shaped apartment building had been very grand, just as the area had been, but that was a long time ago. The pretty street had grown into a six lane highway. The once attractive park next door was now home to a camp of transient railway riders. The building’s tenants were a fascinating mix. First were the elderly, mostly single ladies, who had lived there since God had been in short pants. Then there were several recent Eastern European immigrants. There was a large group of messily divorced fathers who had turned the once elegant lobby into a football/ hockey/ basketball/ baseball lounge with a communal big-screen television (only one bill to pay) and beer in a pump keg in the corner. Keeping mostly to themselves were the selection of the recently released – either from jail or mental health facilities; and finally a few families who, like me, had run out of options.

    Originally there had been 36 units in the building but all of the fancy apartments had been chopped up. Now there were 72 units. Some were a single room with a shared kitchen and bathroom. My apartment had once been the two children’s bedrooms in a larger unit. Part of the reason that the price was so low was because there were no telephones in the units. Instead one of the old ladies sat at a desk in the lobby and took messages for everyone. Not ideal. As they were mostly deaf and, rarely spoke English as a first language, but like broken telephone you got the gist and they always wrote the numbers down correctly. From my point of view, it was one less bill and you could always reach me on Skype.
    Last edited by Lake Lili; 10-07-2014 at 06:44 PM.

  2. #2
    Nice start. Can't wait to see where it goes.

  3. #3
    Would love to see you continue with this story

  4. #4
    Join Date
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    Okay girl, I'm ready for the next chapter .

    I wanted to add, how did you know two of my ex son in laws?
    Last edited by sssarawolf; 10-07-2014 at 02:15 PM.

  5. #5
    Join Date
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    Very good start. May not be historical but sure reads like it easily be pre-historical. Good character development. I like her grit. MOAR pease.

    DM

  6. #6
    Good start. i'm ready for more.
    Thanks for sharing.

  7. #7
    Join Date
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    Actually the apartment was perfect for Zeb and me.

    We used the smaller room as a bedroom for both of us, and the second slightly larger room as the kitchen/living room. I had found some cans of yellow and white paint at the Sally Ann and it made the rooms sunny. On the end wall of the room behind Zeb’s cot, using a couple of small bottles of different craft paints, I painted birch trees and then copied images from N.C. Wyeth’s paintings of the Iroquois. One of the little old ladies let me use her treadle sewing machine and a pair of flat queen-sized leaf-green sheets, paired with another pair of white king-sized flat sheets, became curtains. In between the sheets, I sewed white queen-sized flannel sheets. (The Sally Ann always has amazing finds.) The weight of the flannel made the bed sheets hang properly and they stopped the drafts from the old single paned windows. With a queen-sized bed and Zeb’s rescued cot, we were set.

    Once upon a time the bedroom floor had been parquet but time had not been kind. Using the white paint, I covered the floor. It might not stay white forever but it sure looks clean after the grunge that no amount of scrubbing would clear. At some point, someone had boxed in the radiator and since it was either cold as the grave or hot as Hell, the box kept Zeb from putting his small fingers were they didn’t belong. I painted it white along with the window trim and the closet doors. There were two small closets in the room. It made me laugh. I didn’t have enough clothes to fill one. Inside one of them, I used an old door to make a desk. It gave me a place to work and the option of closing the doors to keep Zeb or any nosey people out. After that mess with Trevor and the bank, I am really careful about my paper work and who can access it.

    The bathroom was a trip in its own right. The bathtub was large enough to swim in but the shower no longer worked. The sink was cracked and a plastic bowl had to be used to catch water and then carefully poured into the toilet. It was a big fix on my list and thankfully easily resolved by hunting on Kaijiji and then bargaining hard. I ended up with an American Standard Boulevard Pedestal bathroom sink. The guy wanted $40 for it but I got him down to $15 and he then dropped it off for $5. One of the divorced fathers then installed it for me in exchange for cookies.

    The divorced fathers are full of help and most are pretty nice. Of course I’m not married to them. But you can tell when they first arrive that its like living in a frat house for them – a bit wild, too much beer and pizza, and hunting for the fastest girl around. Most wise-up pretty fast and then you watch them pull themselves together and then move out and on. Of course there are still a few around who get stuck in the angry frat boy stage. They are usually the ones who were jerks to begin with or who have been barred from seeing their kids for some reason, or no reason. Anyways, these guys are always good for hanging a shelf or lifting something heavy. I appreciate their willingness to help out.

    Originally the kitchen had amounted to a mostly still enameled old Victorian cast iron sink, the type with the built in back splash; a geriatric bar fridge, and rather dubiously wired hotplate. But by watching Kaijiji, I had been able to get free appliances – a 1950’s Chambers gas stove, a full sized fridge and a small chest freezer. I loved that stove, it even had a soup pot built in. Normally the gas stove would have been a problem, but the Building Manager’s nephew did natural gas installations and he re-worked my stove so that it would work off a 20-pounder.

    I had also been able to get furniture in a similar manner... a free couch, bed frame, an enamel-top kitchen table and a selection of odd wooden chairs… all free or very cheap on kajiji. I spent a week sprinkling the couch with diataceous earth to kill any possible bugs and then vacuuming it twice a day. I then put the diataceous earth into pans and put the sofa’s feet in them. I went to a fabric outlet store and bought outdoor polyester fabrics for $11.99/yard and slipcovered the couch and armchair. The pale blue with its cabana yellow stripe made the space pretty. As I told one little old lady, being poor is no excuse for your living space space to be dirty or look depressing. All it takes is elbow grease and imagination.

    Once, I found some louvered doors on the street and carted them home. Cut down they fitted into the large windows and provided privacy in the kitchen/living space. Along with the trim, doors and cabinetry, I painted them a crisp white. At a discount flooring place I found back and white peel and stick tiles. In short order, everything looked smart and clean and I had yet to break the $70 mark for the whole apartment.

    The living room/kitchen, which had once been a bedroom, had a large walk-in closet that I was able to turn into a pantry. Because it had once been a fancy place there was an electrical outlet there and I was able to plug the small chest freezer in. I had put our food on the shelves but the quantities looked very small. Fixing that was now Priority #3.

  8. #8
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    Took a break and here was another chapter, thank you. Oh man I had a stove just like that when we lived in Iowa. I loved that thing. I''l take an older stove from the 50's and early 60's any day.

  9. #9
    I have one of those sinks, double, double slanted flange on each side. How do folks put up deer and hogs without a sink like that? It is showing its age, but I have a spare out behind the house...and a claw foot tub. Best things ever invented.

  10. #10
    Lookin good. Thanks for sharing.

  11. #11
    Can't wait for more!

  12. #12
    Join Date
    Feb 2005
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    I like your story very much.

  13. #13
    Thank you. I like it so far.

    What's a sally ann? Is is like good will or salvation army or similar?

    I always enjoy seeing things through your eyes.

    D.
    Dosadi

    III


    My family & clan are my country.

  14. #14
    Join Date
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    Alaska
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    Oohh! Yay!!! Wonderful start!
    I didn't really bounce Eeyore. I had a cough, and I happened to be behind Eeyore, and I said "Grrrr-oppp-ptschschschz."

  15. #15
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    Hi Dosadi,

    Thanks for reading. The Sally Ann(e) is a common nick name for the Salvation Army in Ontario.

    Lili

  16. #16
    I am liking this very much. Please continue.

  17. #17
    Join Date
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    You may say this won't be a historical story Lili, but I have no doubt you'll slip something in to teach us something, even if by accident. Looking forward to the new story.
    How many miles to Galt's Gulch?

  18. #18
    I already learned something. I always do reading stories here.

    I get my faith restored, my world knowledge expanded, and possibilities that I missed pointed out.

    And for the long running ones it's worse than any of those house wife's soap opera addiction. I get truly invested in it.

    Well got to shove the kids into bed.

    Thanks again

    D.
    Dosadi

    III


    My family & clan are my country.

  19. #19
    Join Date
    Sep 2006
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    More please!!!!

  20. #20
    Quote Originally Posted by Dosadi View Post
    ...

    And for the long running ones it's worse than any of those house wife's soap opera addiction. I get truly invested in it.

    ...
    My mom has a coffee cup that has a moms schedule on it. I thought it applied to a T, other than the "fall asleep watching soaps" part, until I realized the stories here are my not-so-guilty escapes from the everyday.

  21. #21
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    The landlord was impressed with what I had done and he hired me, under the table, to smarten up each apartment unit as it became available. It’s not regular work but it’s a little bit to add to my carefully concealed stash of cash. The fresh coat of paint, a decent pair of curtains, a clean kitchen and bath, seemed to make people happier about moving in and care for themselves and their spaces a bit more. Amazing how little it really takes.

    His offer played right into Priority #2, which was to resolve my financial issues. I was glad that I hadn’t quit my job when me ex had suggested it. I worked as an office RN. My job was to manage and coordinate a four doctor group. I had one nursing assistant helping me. I did all the blood pressure readings and weigh-ins, managed the clinic, telephone triage and coordinated with the nurse that assisted with the four doctors with their hospital rounds. I might have made more money working shifts at a hospital, but the regular hours and allowed me work all the hours the local day care was open and spend my free time with Zeb. On weekends, I took in children, who lived in the building, so that their parents could work. That money paid for the daycare.

    So financially we were okay but Travor had wiped out my savings and we lived pay cheque to pay cheque. Anything extra was put away in the form of food, clothes and general supplies. I was still grateful that the Bailiff had let me take as much as he had. He chose to interpret the seizure order as the house and furniture only. So other than our beds, he allowed us to take as much of the contents as we could. It meant I could keep all my linens, dishes, clothes, my computer and my files. So I was able to take some items that the bank would love to have resold – like my small appliances, the stroller and wagon, my gardening tools… and some important things like my food mill, canning equipment and all my jars. Having those things has made a huge difference in our quality of life.

    Young Zeb kept me going. He was my pride and joy. As the cool wet Spring moved to Summer, in the evenings, I would take him and any other child I was caring for, out the kitchen door, down the four steps of the fire escape to the court yard.

    Originally the space had been nothing more than a dumping ground for trash and refuse. But I had listened as the small voice told me that the space was needed. So, I had spent two weeks’ worth of evenings cleaning it up and then I had solicited lawn chairs and benches, children’s play equipment and a Mr. Turtle sand box and a Mr. Turtle pool. Slowly the court yard filled with some of the older residents, young mothers with prams and toddlers, along with a few older children and teenagers. They were all glad of a cool, quiet space. I found a few tables and soon there were afternoon card games going. Along the chain link fence, Mr. Moretti began a small garden of grape vines and tomatoes. He would take each small child by the hand and teach them how to plant the seeds and to water daily. At nine o’clock, the Building Manager locked up the court yard. Slowly the apartment building was becoming a community. The small quiet voice would only say good and needed. The Building Manager told his cousin the Bailiff that my arrival had changed the building for the better.

    That summer the Bailiff joined the ranks of the divorced men. His name was John Caulder. He was very fond of beer, peperoni pizza and football. If he chased any of the local roundheels, I never saw it, but his cousin told me that his ex did a real job on him. Apparently only his good reputation saved him from being totally cut off from his kids.

    As the summer passed in blinding sun and exhausting heat, I collected my produce from my tiny garden. Once I found a railway tramp on the other side of me fence picking cherry tomatoes like they were candy. While it was food from my belly, the smile on his face as he ate them was worth their loss.

    “Thanks Girly” he said “Thems was a right treat. Yous smart getting a garden in. It needs to grow bigger. Bad times is coming and soon.” He hummed to himself.

    “I think you’re right,” I told him. “What are you basing it on?”

    “Well in payment for thems tomatoes, I’lls tells yah. You sees them train cars?” He pointed across to the tracks. I nodded.

    “Thems is mostly empty. Fewer on each train. More men than goods riden the rails. Only the driver, no ones in the caboose. Fewer stops. Nots many passengers. Some trains don't stop. Wez call dem show trains. Day looks good buts don't mean nothin. Now Iz also spents the last couple of weeks count’n trucks on the highway. Not so many of them either.”

    Help him I heard. “Can you come back here tomorrow with two others you trust?” I asked.

    He took off the greasy tuque and scratched his head. “Yous goin to have mores of them little tomatoes?”

    “Well God decides when they’ll be ripe again, but I have an idea.”

    “Right-o Girly. You brings the baby too. Gots something for him.”
    Last edited by Lake Lili; 10-08-2014 at 11:56 AM.

  22. #22
    Nice story building here. Please keep it coming.

  23. #23
    Nice.

    Been long time since I heard the term "roundheels" :-) (Guess is says something that I know what that means. /sigh )

    Thanks

    D.
    Dosadi

    III


    My family & clan are my country.

  24. #24
    Listening to that little voice brings many blessings I have found. Love the story!

  25. #25
    My sister had the ability to make anyplace into an instant home. I always envied her for that.

  26. #26
    Join Date
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    Lake Lili, I love your story... MOAR, please?

  27. #27
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    Oct 2004
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    South East South Dakota
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    I'm male and usually don't enjoy stories written by females. Yours (Kathy in FL, sssarawolf, kritter and a couple others) are the notable exceptions.

    I love this sort of story. A sensible, down to earth person who doesn't whine about the lemons and just sets about making all the lemonade they know how. My kind of person.

    Thanks and moar please.


    Cat

  28. #28
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    Thanks Cat! Being compared to Kathy in FL, sssarawold and kritter is a big compliment. I like people who can make lemonade from lemons - the problem is if you aren't prepared with sugar and water, it is till going to make you pucker hard.

  29. #29
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    The next day the men were waiting for her. With her she brought John Caulder and his cousin the Building Manager, Eric Caulder, and Mr. Moretti. From the Railway Riders Camp came Henri with his fellow riders Jacques and Tiny. Why they always call the biggest man in the room Tiny is beyond me. It isn’t even a funny joke and must make them roll their eyes in exasperation. Mr. Moretti looked at Tiny and nodded. Servicemen always recognize each other, regardless of where they served or for whom. Later Mr. Moretti said, “Mr. Tiny is a good man. He just did not have a fine woman like my Angelina to come home to. I will find him one. Then Mr. Eric will find them a place to live.” I had to smile. Who knew that Cupid was really an 85-year old man with a stooped gate and a love for growing vegetables.

    Henri, the man from day prior, had a small carved wooden lamb for Zeb. At 18-months, Zeb had been developing his own criteria for people and Henri was definitely okay, even before the lamb. The lamb immediately went into Zeb’s mouth to sooth the new teeth.

    We sat at the picnic table in the park.

    “Gentlemen,” I said. “As Henri and I were talking yesterday and we both have some conclusions that aren’t pretty. The world is changing fast around us. Eric, you were mentioning the other day that the apartment building across the street is being knocked down due to poor repair and it won’t be rebuilt. The City holds title and they can’t make enough money to warrant repairing it. There are also three abandoned houses and one burnt out house on the street that the city is also going to demolish. Technically the houses on the other side of the street face onto Cooper Street like the apartment building but ever since they put up the noise barriers on Cooper, they have become part of this street. If I am correct, with those buildings gone that then leaves us and two houses on our small street. So between the parallel Highways 305 and 307, the railway tracks and Cooper’s Road, the residents are the men in the Railway Riders Camp, the tenants in No. 1, Mrs. O’Keefe and her three grandchildren in 638 Copper, and Greg & Susan Hislop and their three kids in No.3. Do we know of anyone else?”

    We looked at each other, and I could see Eric mentally counting heads. “There were a couple of kids who tried to rehab No. 640 but I think they just made a bigger mess and walked away,” he said. “I don’t think you missed anyone Charlie.”

    Did I mention that my name was Charlotte Hilary Smith – mostly I am known as Charlie Smith.

    “Henri, when was the last time there was any maintenance done on the park?” I asked.

    Henri looked around. “Well Girly, I’d say it’s coming up to two years. It’s been three years since they done try to run us off and they stopped mowing the grass the next year. Jacques here was worried they’d turn off the water in the small horse trough but it turns out is a spring.”

    “Buena! Buena! That’s good news!” exclaimed Mr. Moretti.

    “Well Girly” said Henri, “you didn’t ask us to come round and chat with you about what we already know. So what is your idea?”

  30. #30
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    Thank you, okay what's the idea lol.

  31. #31
    Good story. Keep it coming. Thanks for sharing.

  32. #32
    Oohhhh...i see a. MAG forming, with the park as a garden!....good story!
    Last edited by momengineer; 10-10-2014 at 05:47 AM.

  33. #33
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    Good follow through momengineer! Full logic points...

    ===========

    “You’re a smart man Henri!” I said with a smile. I rolled out a hand drawn sketch of our street and tacked it to the picnic table. I pulled out a pink marker and drew almost all the way around the street. “These are either the 8-ft double chain-link fence put in by the railway company or the 20-ft noise abatement barriers put in by the city. Essentially we are already enclosed. Let’s ask the city to close off access to Hwy 305 and leave the driveway into the apartment building across the street as our access. The bus stop is there and it gives faster and better access to the stores across the 307 Bridge on Cooper.”

    “It’s actually a good idea. The exit onto 305 is dangerous and since all of our services, including the school are on the other side of 307 it makes sense,” said Eric.

    “Actually it’s a good security move,” said the Bailiff. Eric snorted. “No seriously,” said John. “The next access points onto the 305 and 307 are two blocks south of Cooper and two blocks north of the railway tracks. It means that traffic coming into town can’t easily get here and would have no reason to slow down or stop. The 20-ft noise abatement walls also block any view onto the street. The only line of weakness would be the double chain link fence – but that gives you all access to the trains so blocking it is not the answer. Okay so what else are you thinking?”

    “If you listen to everyone talking about the prices of food getting so high, and at least half of our old ladies are receiving food aid from their churches, and at least some of the fathers are at the food bank after their child support has been taken… what if we were to ask the City if we could do an experiment in urban farming with the land after they have taken the buildings down. Otherwise the land becomes waste with nothing redeeming it and will become a dumping place full of vermin.” I told them.

    Jacques stood up and walked over to the road. “We have about 4-acres here once the buildings are gone…” he started.

    Mr. Moretti joined him. “A bit less. The Hislops have quietly turned the back of No. 4 in to a garden and planted the front with apple and plum trees. They might be willing to join but they won’t want to undo what they have done.”

    “The most secure corner is the south-east one between Mrs. O’Keefe and Hwy 307. We could put chickens, pigs and a milk cow over there.” I suggested. “The large area where the apartment building was could then be divided into 3 fields with a fourth field where No. 36 is. Three of the fields could be used to grow veg and the fourth could be pasture or fallow land.”

    Eric and John looked at each. “Like the idea Charlie…” started Eric. “But how are you going to get everyone involved. The building is so transient.”

    “Well,” I said. “It’s like this. We talk to everyone. Some are going to want to be involved and some won’t. There are a couple of guys that are looking to move out and Sam was one of them. Now Sam grew up on a farm but he was looking to move out because he is getting his kids full time. If you can get him a larger apartment, then he might see then benefit of staying. As times get tougher more people are going to leave but I bet that Sam won't be the only one who ends up with his kids. Lots of the old ladies also grew up on farms and they can do lots of the preservation work but we also have several retired teachers amongst them. So we could look at turning one of the empty apartments into a co-operative one-room school and keep the kids here rather that take them out to school."

    Henri hummed again... "You keep these ideas coming Girly. Tiny here will look the walls over from a security standpoint." The big man nodded.

    “Now back to the garden," I said. "The City started up a Garden Resource Program (GRP) three years ago based on Detroit’s program. For about $20 they will give us the seeds and send teachers out to help us get started. That is the best way that I can think of to get the City to let us use the land free of charge. Alternately we can try and rent the land from them, for agricultural purposes, and go our own way. I can’t see any way of flying completely under the radar with this. Ideas? Thoughts?”

  34. #34
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    Thank you, nice to have a chapter before heading out for the day.

  35. #35
    Thanks for this story. I am really enjoying it.
    "Southern Gentlemen are not always Gentlemen by nature. They are 'Exposed' to proper behavior and manners early in life, and are smart enough to remember, and to refine them, through a constant practice".

    My good friend, Shelby Foote

  36. #36
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    Very good. Thanks

  37. #37
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    Good story. Interesting to see an urban homesteading effort. Please keep your vision coming!
    It's later than you think!
    (Fr. Seraphim Rose)

  38. #38
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    “If you want to do livestock, chickens is easy,” said Mr. Moretti. “So are pigs. I am a licensed butcher, so no problem there. Cows are big and they eat a lot and feed can be hard to get. So hold off on the cows. You might be able to do some goats but they are wily little devils that will eat everything and chew the rest. You can store a lot of powdered milk before you need a cow.

    “Okay Eric… When is the City supposed to start demolition?” I asked.

    “Two weeks tomorrow…”

    “Okay… short window but let’s apply for the GRP status. I have the forms at home. Let’s put John down as president of the Poplar Plains Road Co-op. Eric can be his number two and I’ll ask the Hislops if one of them wants to be a number 3 with me as secretary. I’ll drop it off on the way to work tomorrow. When I talked to them last week, they told me that they’re approval process is a big rubber stamp, so we should have approval by Tuesday or Wednesday. We can then take that to the City Planning Department and see if we can get this pushed through. I really can’t see it being an issue.”

    Tiny then spoke for the first time. “Charlie, you’re going to need to put the application for the road closure in through the City’s Department of Transportation. Also since it’s a 300 series highway that’s affected you are going to need to apply to the Province. Again it’s one of those things that since the roads are already in place, it’s an easy fix for them to just add the noise abatement barriers and remove the exit signs. If you pull the forms off the internet, I’ll fil them in and drop them off to a guy I know in the DOT.”

    Could have knocked me over with a feather but it will teach me to make assumptions about the Railway Riders. “Thanks Tiny! Give me an hour and I’ll have that done for you.”

    “Tiny… youz put on that form that in the past 15 weeks there’s never been more than…” Henri pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Der’s never been more than 12 cars a day use that exit. Six of dem from the building that the City is pulling down.”

    “Thanks Henri,” said Tiny. “Those numbers will be really helpful. Normally it’s a 60 day process as all businesses within 60m of the affected road have to be consulted. Since there aren’t any, the best bet would be to quickly circulate a petition here on the road that will have more than 60% of the inhabitants show favour with this.”

    “Well I can get that typed up and then walk around and get it done,” I said. “So give me an extra hour and I’ll have that done too.”

    “One other thing,” said Eric. “The City’s application to rezone the land went through last Thursday. That’s why they are waiting the 20 days to start to tear down the buildings because there is an appeals process. The super at the building has told me that nobody in the building intends to file and the last tenant will be gone early this week. So, we need to have someone from here go to the Appeals session and request the zoning variation for the creation of community gardens. Shouldn’t be an issue, as it makes the City look good with all their ‘green’ initiatives. I’ve had to submit for zoning variations before and am willing to deal with this one.”
    “One other thought on the road issue,” said John. “Do you think that the City would allow us to apply to make the road private. We’d have to take our garbage to Cooper Road and we’d have to shovel and plow our own road, but we could then also control access to this road.”


    “I’ll make up a second petition,” I said. “We could then have everyone sign both and submit them at the same time.”

    “Well you’d best get to work Girly,” Henri smiled at me. “That babe is drooling all over your neck and youz gots lots to do.” In his backpack carrier, Zeb had crashed out and he had indeed drooled all over me but the carved lamb was clenched tight is his small fist.

    “Thanks for the lamb, Henri! You did a beautiful job with it.” I said with a smile. “Thanks everyone for coming. I’ll be by to collect signatures in a bit.”

    I untacked the map and rolled it up. Zeb and I then headed for home. John fell in beside us.

    “Do you really think all of this is necessary?” he asked.

    I stopped and looked up at him. “Yes.”

  39. #39
    Join Date
    Sep 2013
    Location
    On the Rock
    Posts
    721
    Well folks... its Thanksgiving Weekend here in Canada and so I'll be away the next two days. I appreciate your feed back and hope that you'll continue to give it.

    Lili

  40. #40
    Charlie is going to be very busy. I am really liking this one.

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