Going Unnoticed

In the midst of the late winter rains, the emergence of Spring Break and March Madness, switch in time through daylight savings, and the end of winter, situated amongst these events is a well known musical festival called South by Southwest (SXSW).

Hipsters, geeks, urban dwellers, yuppies, college students, marketers, and every kind of individual you might imagine flocks to Austin to hear an assortment of musical artists literally from around the world.

When I arrived in Austin nearly ten years ago, I cannot say that I every heard of SXSW.  As a native son of the Lone Star state, I had become accustomed to the State Fair of Texas, Houston Rodeo, football games, and University Interscholastic League tournaments in academics and sports along with every event common to most cities and towns across the state.  However, after returning to Texas and coming to be a resident of the Violet Crown, I soon learned about what I had been missing.

Over the years, I have attended concerts enjoying mostly hip hop, R&B, reggae, and a few other groups or musicians who likely would not easily fit into any of these categories.  Although there has been pretty much every genre of music represented, I have always leaned to the music that I hold dear and near to my heart.

As I mentioned before, all sorts of people migrate to Austin for SXSW.  So, if you were to come, I guarantee that you will find something here to enjoy.  If not, there is the legendary Austin Rodeo also happening at the same time with their own list of musical acts scheduled throughout the week.

I arose this morning to be reminded that SXSW is about the pleasure music brings to people from across the world and the money needed to finance a global extravaganza with every sort of business represented from the tech world, music producers, entertainers, and promoters to airlines, taxis, pedicabs, and alcohol distillers among others necessary to make this happen.

On a far smaller scale, there are people who remain a bit less visible.  I am not talking about the paid workers behind the scenes, the unsung heroes who make SXSW happen.  I am talking about the man I witnessed walking across my neighborhood picking up cans left by attendees on street corners, alleyways, and on empty lots after party goers had congregated among their friends and strangers alike to hear the latest musical craze.

When the night consumes the cacophony and the walking boots and clamoring shoes subside to the uncanny humid and crisp cool of a Texas March, there are men and women working off the clock, collecting those things we might discard as trash, sometimes muttering to themselves incomprehensibly or silently introspective in the early hours before the next cycle begins.

For me, it is important to pay as much attention to the noise, lights, and commotion that comes with SXSW as it is to notice the other elements working sometimes beyond our awareness.  It may require an interrupted sleep early in the morning before being able to notice.  Even if in the light of day, I would encourage people to look around and see what goes unnoticed and invisible for the many reasons people do from day to day.  It may help to appreciate the little things that make behemoth events like SXSW magical in small ways.

When I arose this morning, I found myself in a contemplative mood partly because it is the day that I check in with my Lifestyle/Health Coach about my progress.  Since cutting sweets and watching my food portions, I have noticed that I have lost about seven pounds so far.  I have exercised irregularly unfortunately even though I am attempting to keep it a priority along with staying hydrated.  It has been forty-four days since giving up sweets.  So far, I see the success every day.  Although the temptation to return to my old ways has crawled back into my thinking on occasion, I have been pleased with the choice to cut sweets.  I am not certain that I will return and have no plans to at this point.  For now, I will be focusing on keeping hydrated and keeping a more regular exercise regiment.

I have not blogged everyday as I had before; however, I have found that making these entries works better when I feel compelled to share my experiences.  It seemed that starting with a daily regiments served its purpose well at the beginning.  If I need to return to something regular, I have blogging among other activities to keep me moving forward.  Blogging will continue to a tool as my disposal when I want to take an opportunity to have an account of the day.
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Day 19 - Don't Need No Teeth to Eat

If someone told me that I had been blogging everyday and writing about the small nuances of each day while swearing off sweets at the same time, I'd tell them that they were crazier than horse shit.

The day before entering my first string of entries I watched the movie Contagion where a character said blogging is just graffiti with comas and periods.   The statement could be a discouraging statement.  However, for me, graffiti is a honorable art form.  So, anything that I could do to add of the urban cyber art, I am all for it.


Sunday morning . . . I woke up from a deep slumber earlier than expected after staying up well past a reasonable time.

I felt refreshed and a bit enthusiastic.  Almost immediately I knew what was the greatest priority for me: Visiting the historical spots in East Austin with my kids. My only concern was whether the kids would be willing to appease me for a moment.

Although most occasions as a parent, I am not so much concerned about having my kids buy-in.  Let's not confuse this situation with them having a choice in the matter. Rather, I would like that they enjoyed this planned excursion instead of being a couple of grumpy bugs passively and aggressively ignoring my efforts to teach and expose them to something.

We had breakfast and made our way to a few historical spots, starting with Robertson Hill, Olive Street School, Curve, Lydia, and Waller Streets.  We followed up with Oakwood Cemetery and the Swede Hill neighborhood.  With tired feet and weighed down attention spans, I tried to ask more questions and less lecturing to them.  On occasion, I checked in with them to ensure some of what was being said stuck in their expanding brains.

By the time we finished our Black History Tour del East End, the excursion was a limited success. It was also great to see these sites during the day with full sun shining.  The early morning darkness before made it difficult to see everything well.

For some reason, I still felt like a tourist, distant and a bit removed after the tour.  It wasn't like I was going to go door to door, conduct interviews for a qualitative investigation into the cultural mores of the local townspeople.  Of course, it is possible.  I've participated in at least two or three graduate student based investigations on the East Austin community.

On a whim, I took the kids with me to Sam's BBQ.  Since I do not eat red meat, barbeque generally has not been a big priority for me. I'd seen Sam's innumerable times over the years.  Never have I had the inclination to stop and see what it was like.  Impulsively, I've gone to Pokey Joe's and had Ruby's Barbeque at department get togethers in the past .

Truthfully, I thought they were lame as hell.  Tasteless, one time the chicken was cold, and the sauce was more like spicy sweet ketchup.  And, I do not like ketchup.  So, any suggestion to drive out thirty or more minutes to Lockhardt, Lulling, or West Hell, Texas, to eat at Salt Lick was totally out of the question.

For today, Sam's seemed to be the best opportunity to experience East Austin, talk to real people, and eat some good food.  All the reviews about Sam's were positive.  All the photos I saw reminded me of any whole-in-the-wall place I'd grown up with in anywhere across the South.

The kids and I arrived and I could not remember what took me so long to visit the spot. I felt a bit embarrassed that I had not been there earlier. I tried to read the menu, but Willie Mays, Sam's BBQ owner, asked me to tell him what I wanted.  I ordered and . . . BAM!  Mr. Mays served me my whole chicken, hot, a side of potato salad, and four slices of wheat bread.

I laughed inside as my son asked me what the bread was for.  As we ate, Willie sat during a slow period to chat me up as he watched my reaction to eating his food.  The small, friendly spot reminded me of a small town genuineness not oftentimes found in a large city.  The great thing about East Austin has been the ability of people to keep to their roots as much of the city seems to change around them.

I do not want to suggest that East Austinites are stuck in the past. I'm reminded that not every part of Austin is a recovering hippie enclave or WASP retreat primarily concerned with the latest IPad innovations, downloaded apps, the latest bar tips found on Foursquare, loyalties to a local indie band, and online Facebook gossip. There is nothing wrong with these things in themselves, but there is more in the world.

It's hard to describe how it felt to go to Sam's with my kids.  My kids probably did not care.  However, I was glad to be there with them.  Maybe it felt familiar to me because it reminded me of the many times my mother took me out on "country drives" through Oakland, California, or Fort Worth, Texas, when visiting friends or family.  It was like she'd search for the smallest, rankest spot on the map, stop to smell the air, and know we'd come to the right place to break bread and dine with kings.

After finishing some chores, touring East Austin, and lounging, I accomplished my intended goal to stay on track, drank my water, stayed sufficiently distracted from eating sweets, and spent quality time with the kiddos.  Not a bad day.

Day 17 - Can You Believe it? Rain, Again

If you want to hide something well, put it in plain sight.

In general, I've thought about the saying when my mother would ask me to go look for something when I was a child.  I'd without fail, turn around to her and ask, "Where?"

In frustration, my mother looked at me, tilted her head a bit to the left in silence.  It was her signal to me to take a better look at the situation. In many cases, the item desired would be sitting right there in plain sight.

As I've grown older, I've learned the same is the case with th e city Ilive in.  For example, I met a man in the Bronx, who was born and raised in Brooklyn.  His trip to the Bronx was his first.  I also learned in my conversation with him that he had never seen the Statue of Liberty in person. It was hard to believe how a man older than  Methuselah never took the time to see the Statue of Liberty, which was a train and boat ride away.

Unfortunately, I've had to accept that people are invisible to one another everyday.  Today, invisible people tend to be the homeless, who I sometimes find myself ignoring to avoid giving them money or a bit of banter at the stop light.  On my better days, I chat, acknowledge, or, at least, wave back to be friendly.

Whole parts of my neighborhood go unnoticed it seems as well.  There is a cemetery that I pass with great frequency throughout the week.  If you've driven down Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard, gone to a University of Texas baseball or softball game, passed through the East Side to avoid I-35 highway traffic, you've probably seen the oldest cemetery in Austin: Oakwood Cemetery.

Oakwood Cemetery was my next destination as I biked through the light rain.  As the oldest cemetery in Austin, it literally holds plenty of history. The first people to be laid at the oldest section were victims of a Comanche attack around 1836. For a cemetery where Texas governors, legislators, and other notable politicians lay buried, it also has a number of African American, Jewish, and Hispanic people laid to rest there as well. Since 1850, the forty-acre cemetery has been owned by the City of Austin,

I could not ride through the cemetery at the early hour; however, as I took a few laps around to view the hollowed grounds, I saw over 175 years of Austin history.  In comparison to the Texas State Cemetery with its nice greens, trimmed and cared for live oaks, museum, and many water features, Oakwood is a shit hole.  No paved roads, grass is as bad of shape as any unkempt empty residential lot, and full to the brim.

Oakwood Cemetery is directly adjacent to the Swede Hill neighborhood, which was a small community of Swedish immigrants and their families who settled in East Austin.  It is nestled in an area mostly unnoticed unless someone gets lost looking for a cafe on 12th Street or if you're nosing around, probably looking at East Austin properties.

In the early hours, I took my bike around Oakwood Cemetery and Swede Hill to make sure I took a much longer look.  I did not know the people who resided in Swede Hill. I did not know the history of the people buried at Oakwood.  I didn't want to pass them by unnoticed, blind to the people who settled there, nurtured families, made careers, loved, and died.

Among African traditions, honoring the dead is one of many ways of demonstrating respect.  It is also an opportunity to utter their names in stories, tell old tales of times almost forgotten, recollect fond memories, and teach values.  Honoring them specifically by speaking their names also was an opportunity to keep them alive not just in our personal memories but in the afterlife as our ancestors watched over the community.

Once an ancestor's name discontinues to be spoken, it was their time to pass on to the next phase in the afterlife.  To keep them literally present to watch over the community in the afterlife, meant talking about them in this life.

So, as I road my bike pass the Oakwood Cemetery and through Swede Hill, I stopped to read out the names of people on the tomstones and the historical markers in hopes that maybe their lives would be remembered and honored, or maybe pray for a lesson to be learned. At minimum, I remembered to take notice a bit more especially at the little things I may pass everyday without notice.  As I rode through the early morning, I tried a bit more mindfulness in the moment, feeling the road under my bike, the air passing through my legs, and the moist rain landing on my face.

For today, I remember Jacob Fontaine, who came to Austin as a slave to an Episcopal minister, Edward Fontaine (a great grandson of Patrick Henry), and established the First (Colored) Baptist Church  in 1867.  He founded five other churches in the area, published a newspaper called Gold Dollar, and urged Black voters at the time to support a 1881 bid for the University of Texas to be located in Austin.

A little known fact: Rev. Jacob Fontaine help found Wheatville, the first emancipated black, Freedman community in Austin, named for James Wheat, a freedman who was its first property owner and resident. Wheatville is where the current West Campus is located between 24th and 26th streets with the hub designated at San Gabriel Street in the Fanzetti Building. The Wheatsville Co-op is named in honor of the old Wheatville community.

Today was spent on much to contemplate.  Temptation continued to be held at bay except during times when feeling pretty thirsty.  I left the house for work without drinking my first two servings of water.  Lunch ended up being a wash with a Whataburger chicken sandwich and onion rings, no sweet drinks, of course.

Later in the evening, it was more food and lots more water into the night.  I got to get out of this habit of rewarding myself with fatty foods after a long week of work.  I do not think I need to avoid them as much as include vegetables and fruit as part of my meal.  I did think of those vegetables, but they only came as an after thought.  I do not find myself pining after vegetables or fruits.  I must work on making it a habit.

Day 16 - More Austin, East of I-35 Love

Picture of Joe Sing

Thursday morning was not the same pop up and kiss the sky kind of morning as was yesterday.

I was dragging ass like lard was a paper weight in my pants.  I heard the clock alarm go off . . .

I just looked at it, noise blaring in the morning chill.  I finally turned off both my clock alarm and the cell alarm  that followed moments later.  I could not stand it anymore.  So, I laid in my warm bed, studied the numbers on the neon green clock radio and listened to National Public Radio talk about the Republican Presidential primary and the economy.

This was not in God's plan.

I had a few days under my belt and, as tired as I felt, I still felt compelled to rise this morning.  With dry spit on my face, I sure did not give a goddamn how I looked.  I rolled out of bed in my Batman underwear, grappled with staying atop my two left feet, and somehow made it to the restroom. With the lights off, I'm pretty sure I was in the right position to unload the two quarts of water I drank the night before as I went to bed.

My eyes did not need to adjust yet as I returned to sit on the corner of my bed contemplating the apparent insanity that rose me from death's grip.  My heart was not into this morning exercise thing, but I went with what little willpower I could muster.  I listened to the Republicans hammer at each other and again at President Obama.  It was enough to peek my curiosity to listen more to the story and clothe myself in the dark.

I watched the clock strike six o'clock in the morning, which was pretty late if I was going to get a good start.  However, I had already decided that I needed to make a short stop on my walk this morning.

I could not recall one of the Asian family's  that settled in East Austin. So, I rose up and intently walked around the Cesar Chavez area near Lady Bird Lake in search of the Texas Historical Marker to jog my memory.

Many people may not think of East Austin as home to any Asian Americans, but long ago, there was a prominent Chinese immigrant who ran a laundry business on 5th Street.  In the late 1800's, Jo Feng Sheng or Joe Sing came to Austin by way of New York City and New Orleans.  A native of southern China off the South China Sea, Mr. Sing came to Austin during a time when there were only thirty Chinese people, almost all men, residing in the city.

Mr. Sing remained while many other Chinese left due to discrimination (i.e., racism and inability to own property) and difficulty finding work and opportunity.  However, he met and later married Frances Moreno (Sing), a Mexican American who subsequently lost her citizenship when she married Mr. Sing. They went on to have four children.

I thought it important to mention, even if brief, the legacy of Mr. Sing and the other Chinese immigrants who came to settle in Austin.  Although many Chinese would not come to stay in East Austin, I thought the Sing family story was an important one to share.  Sing and other prominent Asian immigrants and Asian Americans came to provide a contribution to the history and culture of Austin.


In particular, Mr. Sing's life illustrated his integration into East Austin, managed a business, and thrived in the community.  His story and that of many Asians can be easily overlooked due to the small numbers who initially resided here.

I cannot clearly articulate the importance of telling part of the Sing story.  For some reason, it felt dishonorable to leave it out.  Of course, there are plenty of stories being left out.  However, on my walk around the East Austin, the Sing family story, the house Mr. Sing's daughter bought on Willow Street, which is the one I pass on occasion during my walks, are meaningful tidbits of what I learned to be part of the East Austin identity.

There is more to learn, experience, honor, and criticize.  As I walked home, I wondered what it was like for a man during the turn of the 20th century in a foreign land, nurture a family, grow a business, and develop friendships. Mr. Sing's story and that of the thousands who have lived and worked in East Austin would probably fill volumes.  I hope my legacy in some small way honors the path these trailblazers made for us.

Today, it was not hard at all to stay on track by staying away from sweets. There were a few tempting situations.  The pound of chocolates and fruit flavored candies in my car trunk was one.  The other came from a box of post-Valentine's Day candy sitting in the office all day.  Neither of the temptations were worthy of my attention.  I did remove the candy from my trunk as soon as I realized I might be driving back home with it still in my car.  Yeah, I had to get rid of that satanic sweetness.

Water . . . check, fruit and vegetables . . .  check, glass of wine while I write this blog entry . . . double check.  Today is a good day!

Now, will someone tell those hipsters walking about my neighborhood to shut the hell up?!!! Can't they talk softly as they traispe down the street!  Day workers like me have to get up and walk in the morning. :)

Day 14 - Lovely Day of Amore

Happy to report that I did get up this Tuesday morning at 5:30 a.m.to exercise. By it self, I felt a sense of reward for following through. Yes, a little pat on the back is a good thing although short lived.

I already had my clothes, shoes, and other items ready to go near my bed.  I did not waste time foraging through my room looking for excuses not to exercise.

Over the weekend, I had cleaned up my bedroom so I could move about easily.  This morning was far warmer than the day before as well. These preparatory activities really made it difficult to be lazy, ignore the alarm, or be a flake.  I had no excuses or at least far fewer excuses.

I learned from the night before that there was going to be a dense fog advisory in the morning.  Oh, was the fog thick, but it was calming for some reason.  As I passed the eighteen acre Texas State Cemetery with headstones of dead confederate soldiers, I noticed that I could not see the red signal lights around 300 yards in front me.  Of course, the sun hadn't risen and no one else seemed to utter a sound. The dogs bark fell silent and birds remained still.

As I walked, I could only hear my heart beat, my footsteps and an occasional car or Metro bus pass by.  Passing into darkest on the street along the cemetery, the street lights were out and the fog made all else mostly translucent allowing a certain peace of mind to come over me.

Often times, cemeteries are feared for their ghostly features, respected for their sacredness, and avoided because they remind us of the intimidating welcome of death we each must encounter.  On this day, I sorted through the fog of night into the cemetery and felt calm, an ease of mind and body, while alone and each sound of my footstep faded in my mind.

I stood for a moment, which ended up being more than twenty.  In those moments, I was reminded of what joy and peace I received from my early morning exercises. I smiled and continued to finish my walk/run.

Through the day, I responded to difficulties and stayed on track with my water food, and stayed away from sweets successfully.  By the end of the day, I found that the day passed without incident.  I found myself more willing to share with friends and family my regular accomplishments and challenges.

I look forward the next day.

Day 8 - Secondary Benefits

I noticed as it may be obvious that my teeth have not been bleeding as much these last several days.  I go to the dentist pretty regularly, if nothing else so I will not have to see him more often.  However, throughout my childhood and adulthood, I've had this off and on problem with bleeding gums or gingivitis, a common form of gum disease.

It may not be well known, but I learned African Americans and Mexican Americans have a disproportionate higher rate of gingivitis than other groups.  I would guess this has to do with socio-economic status, access to dental services, and, of course, diet.

Since I have been excluding sweets from my diet, my gums have not bled as severely in the last couple of days. As of today, there is no bleeding at all.  Of course, flossing and good dental hygiene help.  I do wonder how cutting back the sweets has made a difference.  It may seem obvious, but this is not something that I hear about regularly.

I grew up with family where it was very common to expect that you were going to lose many, if not all, of your teeth.  I presume pulling teeth was the cheaper option to have a bad cavity removed instead of getting a filling or repairing it.  I grew up watching young men and women with missing teeth.  In pictures, you'd see them getting older and have more missing teeth in their mouth.  These are some of the same people with other major health concerns such as heart disease, strokes, high blood pressure, and diabetes.

Growing up into young adulthood, I did not connect their health problems and dental issues.  Dental issues, I guess, was not a health issue per se.

I have two crowns on teeth I lost to poor dental hygiene and resulted in me being far more diligent about brushing and flossing because I hate the dentist.  They're nice and all.  My kids love the African American dentist they have now located in my part town - the sunny Eastside (Austin's hood).

I expect my kids will have a different experience than my older family and I experienced.  They do far better managing their teeth than I did at their age.  I also believe the connection between good dental hygiene is linked to the other positive health messages I communicate to them.

I plan on keeping the rest of my teeth.  I have a dental appointment coming up also.  I'll be a bit nervous.  But, hey, I'm not a kid and going to the dentist is not going to hurt any more.  It's a whole lot easier and cheaper taking care of my health.