Cultivating
a Solution to a Growing Problem
You
know that old saying about fools rushing in? Well, out of my way, please,
because I may be dodging a few brickbats very shortly.
I keep reading about the controversy over the Ron Mandella Community Garden
at 15th and Q streets, which seemingly has become as sacrosanct as the Vatican
is to Rome.
Untouchable? A person reading about the squabbles involving that corner piece
of property would think so.
Now I spent a good deal of my time during my formative years in that neighborhood,
back when Frank Radich had a little grocery kitty-corner from the garden and
the Acme Top Shop was located directly behind, and I can't ever recall a divisive
issue such as this one.
As I recall it, 20, maybe 30 years ago, the Capitol Area Development Authority
was undecided about what to do with that sliver of developable real estate.
Until a decision could be made, folks who had a yen to grow things were permitted
to cultivate the vacant lot.
There was a lot of initial enthusiasm, although I see far less activity now
when I drive by, and suddenly what had begun as a stopgap temporary usage
became a Sacramento tradition. You'd think the gardeners were in possession
of a charter granted by John Sutter Jr. when he laid out the city streets.
Thus today, when there's a push to reduce commuting and provide housing closer
to the workplace, the bucolic brigade would keep this corner devoted solely
to the cultivation of rutabagas, broccoli and brussels sprouts.
However, I'm not advocating the abolition of the Mandella Garden without suggesting
a replacement. One right there in the neighborhood, too.
Right across the street from Mandella Garden, occupying an entire city block,
is Fremont Park, dedicated to the memory of California's "Pathfinder"
-- an inappropriate name if I ever heard one -- John C. Fremont. It's never
been a heavily used park. I can't recall ever having heard of a perambulator
collision caused by moms guilty of reckless pushing. If it were reduced in
size by one-fourth, it would serve many more people -- all those gardeners,
remember -- without displacing or otherwise inconveniencing any other users,
whether youthful mothers or seasoned retirees.
Of course, that seems too simple to even be considered. So I guess all that's
left for me is to start dodging brickbats.
• • •
Given a choice, I'd much rather have had some chunks of coal dumped in my
stocking at Christmas than to lose a couple of old friends. But man proposes
and God disposes, and we have no say in such matters.
First it was Jim Mulligan, my classmate and friend when we were freshmen in
high school who, later, as a priest, led us through our wedding vows in 1952.
He tied a good, tight knot, did Jim. That one has lasted for going on 53 years.
Then there was Bill Glackin, with whom I worked for 25 years, he as an arts
critic for The Bee and I as a copy editor who often handled his work.
Bill's copy was a pleasure to read but still quite a chore to edit, mainly
because he wrote so carefully. He never wasted a word and crafted his sentences
so that one read smoothly into the next throughout his review. And that's
what created the problem.
A newspaper story has to fit an exact "hole" in a page, and if it
is too long, the copy editor has to start eliminating a line here and there
to take care of the length problem. With Bill's smooth, ordered prose that
was nearly impossible, and it became a matter of finding a word here, a word
there, a word somewhere else until the story finally fit.
Bill never looked forward to retirement. "What," he replied to one
questioner, "and give up show biz?" Nor did he ever. It's indicative
of the man that he was still on the job -- and physically in the office --
when death overtook him.
"Gentleman and scholar" is an overworked phrase, but with Bill Glackin
it worked.
• • •
As Christmas approached, I couldn't help noticing that the big retailers appeared
to be reducing prices almost daily. I know absolutely nothing about merchandising,
but still I couldn't help wondering when they'd hit rock bottom. Some never
did.
Just before Christmas I noticed some boasting of discounts of up to 60 percent.
It does make one wonder how big a markup they were asking before the price-cutting
started.
There are still a few things I really need, but I'm putting off my shopping
trip for a couple of weeks. By then I'm hoping some of the stores may be paying
the customer to take things away.
• • •
The
silly season is about on us, if it isn't already here. I refer to the session
of the California Legislature, which, with all those newcomers replacing
the members who've been "termed out," may be mistaken for the
return of Major Bowes' Amateur Hour.
I wonder if we'll get a repeat of that failed measure from last year, the
one which, for immigrants, would have substituted a "How to Live in
America" course for fines and/or jail in cases of Vehicle Code violations.
Once word of that got around, if passed, I'd bet every cited driver would
do his best to deny citizenship.
After
retiring from a long and respected career with the Sacramento
Bee, Stan Gilliam found that he just couldn't stop writing. So
he brought his "Stan's Sacramento" column to the Spectrum,
where it has been a favorite of readers for 14 years ... and counting.
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