"Where Have all the Flowers Gone" RIP Dad

Dad, myself, and his grandaughter at the Chelsea Hotel. 

Well, its been four years now since dad has been gone. We spread his ashes from Texas to Louisiana that June. 

His obituary came out later that year. 

Here's Will Dad and I in NOLA four years ago saying goodbye. We'll toast a cold one for you tonight old man. Here's to beer on the sidewalk.

Now, there are piles of his papers, books, and memories, an old hunting hat here, a sock there, a book of poetry strewn about my office and my mind. 

Some of my oral histories with Dad found their way into my rebel friendships book.  He's not around for my reading tonight, so i tell him in my mind. Odd not to be calling him to tell him about the reading. So  we talk it through in our minds.  These days, these are a lot of one sided conversations. 

Every year, i dig through memories in my mind, remembering and writing and thinking about the old guy, the good and bad lessons, the movies we saw together, etc.  "Casablanca" and "Patton" were his favorites.  We went to see "Out of Africa" when Mom moved out thirty three years ago. 

The mind has funny ways of storing these memories, in between trips to the El Quixote, where we used to eat, to toast the old man. Sometimes they are there.  Sometimes, it feels like I've told them all.  Others, i dig through the old letters and journals and find many more.

But most of them linger in my mind, listening to Pete Seeger.  My first glimpses of Dad's beat past took place when he played me Pete records back in the early 1980's, welling up with emotion when "We Shall Overcome" came on, talking with me about what the words meant in "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"  Where have all the young men gone, it was an anti war song, Dad explained, revealing something of himself.  

Every year I recall you  when I see those spring flowers blooming, blowing in the distance, finding their way out of the dirt as earth wakes after its long winter nap, carrying a bit of you with them, out into the sky and oblivion. 

Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago

Save the Gardens, Save the Commons for Everyone!

Rebekah, Corey, Jennifer and I rode bikes all day. We meandered from Elizabeth Street Garden, (between Prince & Spring streets) in Soho to Children’s Magical and Siempre Verde Gardens on the Lower East Side – all green spaces in danger of development.

From Harlem to Coney Island and all over New York City, the city is slowly privatizing the commons.  Community spaces are being sold off to the highest bidders, green spaces bulldozed to make way to condos that few can afford.  Space is a commodity here. Still, people are fighting for their access to a bit of a commons.  Our democratic life depends upon this.

Riding we talked about the struggle to save Elizabeth Street Garden, where supporters have retained “Norman Siegel in their our efforts to protect & preserve the Garden,” while the City  “plans to destroy the garden.”  Jennifer and I talked about how different strategies the gardeners are using to preserve the garden.   Its  a majestic space that brings the community together.

Back we rode to Liz Christy and El Jardin Paraiso, the iconic gardens of the movement, taking in the murals along Houston Street, the Cemetery on First Street.

Each space is ripe with memories of garden parties past, stories, book club meetings, garden marches, each celebrations, and street actions over the years. Building on the lessons of Liz Christy and the Green Guerillas, we’ve thrown seed bombs and created new gardens, bolting open fences as we did with Siempre Verde in 2012.  Some we kept, others have been take back by the city.

Finishing our tour of Lower East Side Gardens, we rode across the Williamsburg Bridge, zigging and zagging.  Corey ended up riding Jennifer over the bridge and on our way from Williamsburg to Buy Stuy where we rode to Myrtle Village Green, a community garden and green space on Mrytle between Franklin and Kent!  Manny, a volunteer with the garden, was there to meet us and show us around this space that feeds 22 families.  The signs for the plants are in Spanish and Bengali. Participatory budgeting meetings are held here.  So too should plans for the garden’s future. Afterall, spaces like this are incubators for democracy. Sadly, the garden’s future of the space is in drought.  The community has offered an alternative sight for the garden.  But no one is sure what is going to happen with this space.

Looking at these gardens, you see the innovations that take place in these spaces where children come to learn about the environment, to plant, and compost.

Rebecca points out oregano, sage and yarrow in the herb garden.

Manny shows us dirt planted that the Steinway family donated to the space.

And Corey climbs the trees.

Next, we rode to Bushwich City Farm, a majestic community hub at 354 Stockton St,  just off Myrtle. Walking inside, people are lighting a fire to cook some food. Kids are playing football and community members are sharing plans. And chickens are chatting.  The fire reminds me of the warm fires we had outside of Esperanza Community Garden before it was bulldozed eighteen years ago. 

“Its up to us,” notes one supporter, pointing out that this is all about mutual aid. The garden is owned by a private developer, who has floated plans to evict the gardeners for months.  But hopefully the storm has passed.

And supporters talk about ways to share the space to everyone has access to the energy growing from it.

The garden website points out: “since 2011, the Stockton Street location of Bushwick City Farm (BCF) has been a great benefit to the local community by providing free organic food, youth education, a demographic-spanning gathering place, and a green oasis in a densely urban area. The farm is now facing sudden eviction by the land owner, who wants to develop the land. Bushwick City Farm helps to improve local health and provide a community gathering place as well as a safe place for neighborhood kids to play. Bushwick City Farm is a sorely needed and deeply loved community resource.”

Rebekah, a long-term volunteer with the garden, points out, “Sundays are regular work days in the garden, so there is opportunity to meet the neighbors, hang out in the gazebo built by a local middle school classroom, or help with springtime farm chores.”

“Welcome to the garden,” she smiles cooking some food. She points out that kids from all over play here.  And that unlike other urban farms, there are no individual plots.

Hopefully the gardeners can find a way to keep the space for the community.  The day of exploring gardens in danger reminds us of just how precious and precarious democracy can be in the city.  The commons are here for us.