West Side Stories

As I took out the garbage this morning, it occurred to me that it’s rummage sale season. The thought popped into my head as I walked past the well-worn and hardly-used bikes that are taking up too much space in my garage. I looked at the other assorted recreational items cluttering up an already cluttered area and seriously thought: “I really should have a garage sale.”

Here’s the problem: I have to be honest, I am not a garage sale person. I have had them in the past and they did help me get rid of stuff and raise a little cash in the process. I firmly believe in the idea that one man’s (or woman’s) trash is another’s treasure. The thing is, it takes a village to have a garage sale, or at least an entire household.

First, you have to get organized. You have to select a date. Then you have to place an ad and/or make signs. What’s the point of having a garage sale if nobody comes? Then you have to go through your house and gather your belongings that you no longer want but that somebody else might like to buy. This is where it gets tricky. Drawing the line between things I want and things I use. Suddenly things I haven’t looked at since freshman year of college seem invaluable.

After you gather all of your belongings, you have to price them. This is where my husband and I completely disagree. I (not having any sales background and just wanting to get rid of stuff) start pricing very low. My hubby (having a sales background and figuring that people will always bargain down) starts high. After a mildly irritating disagreement, we meet in the middle. But this is the point where I make him promise that everything that doesn’t sell goes into the car and will be taken to Goodwill. It will not come back into the house.

After you price things, you have to figure out how to display them. You need tables and you need a backup plan. Why? Because if you don’t have a backup plan, it’s going to rain. Then you have piles of you-know-what sitting in your driveway getting wet. Then you can neither sell it nor donate it. So you need to have your garage cleared out or a tent ready so that if it does rain, you can operate under cover.

Next, you need a partner. You cannot do a garage sale solo. First, because at some point it will be crowded and you can’t handle everyone at once. Secondly, because at some point it’s going to be deserted and you’ll need somebody to talk to. Thirdly, you’ll need bathroom and sanity breaks. Seriously.

Finally, and most importantly, you have to steel yourself for the customers. Again, let me be honest. In my past experience, some of the people that have come to my garage sales have been a little, well, creepy. I’m all for bargaining, but I will never forget the woman that took a 50 cent doll and tried to negotiate down to 25 cents. I refused just on principle, knowing full well that it meant that I’d have to be hauling that doll away at the end of the day. I know that to a lot of people, it’s the art of the deal. They simply can’t buy for full price. That’s fine, but don’t insult me.

And therein lies my biggest obstacle to having a garage sale – dealing with the public. If everyone was like the nice people that oohed and ahhed over our grungy old high chair, then I’d probably do it more often. But the Antique Road Show hunters who slam on the brakes, run up your driveway and stomp away if they don’t see or smell anything pre-1930, well I can do without them.

I’m sure I’ll work up the energy and enthusiasm to have at least one more garage sale in the coming years. Now that my kids are teens, we have a fair amount of “stuff” that could make some other family happy. I just have to get in that rummage frame of mind. Now, if I could only get rid of the clutter “up there” too!

I almost ignored it. I walked by a television around noon on Monday, saw the “Breaking News” crawl at the bottom of the screen and something about a shooting. I tend to ignore the words “Breaking News” because every single day, there is breaking news. When hog futures are announced, it’s “Breaking News.” When the paternity of Anna Nicole’s daughter was announced, it was “Breaking News.” But on Monday, I asked someone what happened and they told me about the horrendous shootings at Virginia Tech. Then the anchor on TV told us it was the worst shooting in U.S. history. Unfortunately, this really was “Breaking News.”

As a parent, this was all too real. I have a son at college and when I thought about his campus and the possibility of this horror happening there, I shuddered. There but for the grace of God go my son and every other college student. Why Virginia Tech? Why Monday? Why carry out such hatred, such evil and cause such gut-wrenching pain for so many? There will never be enough answers for anyone – the victims, their families, the other students at Virginia Tech. Much like Columbine, there will be plenty of finger-pointing and blame to go around. Could something have prevented that young man from exacting revenge on that day on so many? We may never know.

Today, I was driving by Mount Mary College, the Catholic all-women’s college nestled on the edge of Wauwatosa. To an outsider, it seems like a sheltered haven—a private college catering to those who prefer higher education in a smaller setting. I saw one of the college’s security cars drive by. I looked at the car and then glanced at the wide-open campus and wondered how that school, or any school could ever begin to prevent such violence.

My son goes to school in sleepy little Muncie, Indiana. He’s surrounded by cornfields and dairy farms and strip malls. Like many colleges, it’s an idyllic setting for co-eds to stroll across campus, go to and from classes and enjoy their independence. But from the looks of it on television, Virginia Tech seemed like a pretty nice place too. As does UWM and Marquette and Carroll College and Alverno and the many schools where we Tosans send our sons and daughters.

I’ve always been a bit of a chronic worrier. When I was a working mom, I would pause every time an emergency vehicle would drive by my office. I’d watch to see whether it drove in the direction of my kids’ day care center or school. If it did, I’d say a silent prayer. When my son drives to and from college, I don’t breathe a sigh of relief until he’s home or in his dorm room. It may seem over-the-top, but I’ve never stopped worrying about my kids since I gave birth to them.

As much as we try to protect our kids, there is no bubble big enough to keep them safe from the danger that festers in the mind of someone so lonely, disturbed and vengeful that he would continue killing until he took his own life too. We could bring our kids home and forbid them from leaving the house, but that’s neither likely nor wise. We all know that we have to let go of them and hope for the best. After Monday, that seems a little bit more difficult than before.

It must be tough to run a grocery store in this town. Gone are the days when you could simply set up a nice, clean storefront, stock it full of the best-selling brands and advertise sale items in the newspaper. Florescent lights have been replaced with expensive halogen lamps. Cold, boring floor tile is gone in favor of carpeting or elegant stone. The Muzak or elevator music has turned into light classical or jazz selections.

Even the food has gone upscale. We shoppers can now choose between umpteen varieties of produce and packaged goods as well as the finest meats, poultry and seafood that money can buy. And if your mind isn’t completely cluttered by choices, you’ll also have to decide whether “organic” is the way to go.

Don’t get me wrong, I love our gourmet grocery stores. I like the pretty food displays and the exotic culinary offerings and the wine guy with the beret in Sendik’s and (be still my heart) the incredible selection of prepared food. (Shhh…don’t tell anyone. I hate to cook!) I kind of enjoy the fact that a trip to the grocery store is more like an adventure – a treasure hunt to see what bizarre snack item I can find to make our kids lunches more interesting.

I love the gourmet grocery stores, that is, until I just need to run in, grab a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. Again, I’m overwhelmed by choices. I could opt for Borden’s and Wonder Bread, but what would people say?! Shouldn’t I be lovingly offering lactose-free and whole grain to my family? What kind of a mother am I?!

Then there’s the bags. It’s no longer just paper and plastic. It’s paper (with handles, no less) and plastic bags so thick and nice that my grandma would have carried one as a purse. I’d go so far as to say that the bags are TOO nice. I have a dog and I am a bagger. (No, not a grocery bagger – a dog poop bagger. Some people scoop, I bag.) I love the cheapy plastic bags that are so flimsy that my groceries would spill all over my back seat. Sure, they are annoying, but they’re easy to stuff into a pocket on a dog walk. They’re also really hard to find here in Tosa.

Nevertheless, gourmet grocery stores are a trend that seem to be here for the long haul. Dinosaurs like Jewel and Kohl’s and Rainbow Foods have been pushed out of business and replaced by Sentry and Sendik’s and Pick & Save – grocers willing to ante up, remodel and redefine grocery shopping. I know one thing for sure, times have changed and these are not my mother’s grocery stores!

OK, now I’m mad. Today I read in the newspaper that Running Rebels Community Organization, Urban Underground and Campaign Against Violence were out at Mayfair on Saturday protesting the new PGR (Parental Guidance Required) policy. They were apparently standing on Mayfair Road and Center Street with protest signs, chanting things like: "Out of sight, out of mind. Being young is not a crime."

That’s not what made me mad. I believe in the right to peacefully protest whatever you want. And based on the discussions that I’ve had with my 15-year old the last two days, she’d be right there with them chanting the loudest. She is definitely NOT a fan of the PGR policy and has repeatedly reminded me how incredibly “unfair” it is.

What made me really angry was the statement made by Bobby Drake, the spokesperson for Campaign Against Violence, one of the protesting groups. Here’s what he said: "If you kick 1,000 to 1,500 kids out of the mall and put them back in the inner city in the middle of the summer, you're putting all these young men and women who weren't getting into trouble back into the street," Drake said. "We fear that it's going to drive up a problem."

OK, so the mall should take the “problem” (Drake’s words, not mine) and let it roam freely?

Somebody tell me when it became Mayfair Mall’s job to take care of these kids and give them a place to hang out. Mayfair is a private property, right? Don’t they have the constitutional right to set their own policies as long as they don’t discriminate? My understanding is that the new policy targets underage kids. Drew’s Variety Store has a policy stating that no more than two students at a time can be in their store after school. Why aren’t Urban Underground, Running Rebels and Campaign Against Violence standing outside Drew’s and carrying picket signs?

I don’t deny groups and under-18ers the right to dislike the PGR policy. As I said, I have my own little protest going on in my house. But the point here is that the Mall is a private business whose business is to sell merchandise. The young kids (including my own) do not have the right to roam freely without their parents after 2pm on Fridays and Saturdays. That’s two days out of seven. The rest of the week is wide open. On Sunday through Thursday, kids can “hang out” to their heart’s content. Or, they can let their closed wallets do the talking and decide to take their business elsewhere.

I agree that Milwaukee has a growing problem with violence in the city and my hope is that these groups make some headway in addressing these issues. But if their intention is to turn Mayfair into a Boys and Girls Club, an afterschool program or a solution to those problems, I think they've gone to the wrong place.