Race

Lately there's been talk in Cleveland about changes in the residency requirement for City employees - Plain Dealer columnist Regina Brett's 'Dirty Little Secret' column identified 'race' as one of the unspoken elements of this discussion. Many people objected to this, especially members of the police and fire unions.

Why is race a part of this? Or isn't it?

I guess I have to say that I think it is, but carefully - because I think it is more about class than race. And about black culture, and urban policy, and so much more than simple racism.

In a previous career, I was a teacher at an expensive private prep school. The student body had racial diversity - but very little cultural diversity. The students who attended all read 'white' to me, reflecting my own cultural bias; there was no perceptual difference for me between the kids of different races, no matter what their skin color was. Later I taught at a large, inner-ring suburb public school outside of New York City. The student body was 70% black and Latino; the other 30% were white, mostly Jewish kids who were college bound, and whose parents were alumni of the school. (It was very much like Cleveland Heights High. And like Heights, it had reached that critical ratio of 70% minority where white students tend to leave the school at an ever-increasing rate). The black kids at this school, many from middle class families as well as kids from poorer families, had much more pressure to 'act black' - to be 'authentic,' to 'keep it real,' etc. Ironically, a large subset of white kids (mostly boys) acted 'black' as well, wearing their hair in dreadlocks, low-slung pants, creating rap songs and graffiti art.

When I was 17, I wanted to be 'authentic' too. I was a white, suburban, middle class kid and I wanted to be tough, street-smart and sexy. I wanted to be cool. Part of being cool was being, well - black.

And since I had no hope of changing my skin color it meant listening to black music, reading black authors, and feeling at least, a sense of solidarity with an oppressed and talented people.
But in fact I had very little contact with actual black people.

I chose my college (Oberlin) mainly for the catalog, which depicted smiling, multiracial groups of students in beautiful black and white photos. The reality was that students self-segregated by dorm and cafeteria table to a degree that surprised me.

Studying for my education degree, I was struck by two statistical facts: one, no matter what new program you try, there is always a spike in test results; and two, the greatest predictor of academic success, by far, is socio-economic status. The first fact is pertinent because it indicates that many educational (and social) reforms have appeared successful, as long as they are carried out by enthusiastic, specially trained personnel who provide extra attention to their constituents - many reforms have then failed when carried out in real-world conditions. This is why educational strategies, especially in poor and struggling districts, seem disjointed, frantic, and ultimately futile. (Show me one urban district that demonstrates excellence, especially in the upper grades). The second fact is pertinent because it demonstrates that many reforms in poor districts will fail to provide enough 'juice' to overcome the many disadvantages that come with a lower socio-economic status upbringing. These are many and well documented from commentators who range from Jonathan Kozol to Bill Cosby.

The recent book 'Freakonomics' in one essay focuses on child rearing differences correlated to socio-economic groupings. For upper-class children, various studies demonstrate the statistical meaninglessness of spanking vs. non-spanking, TV vs. no TV, and other hotly debated parenting issues. No - the only thing that really matters, according to the data cited, is socio-economic status. My private school students had all the advantages, where my public school students had less. And it showed in the way they interacted with the world; those from relative wealth and advantage knew that they had much to gain from being a part of the dominant culture; those with less to gain saw their main chance in rebelling against it. "If your only power lies in saying 'no,'" as someone once said, "that is what you will do."

This is frightening to me, in a world where we are so segregated by neighborhood, cultural and social affiliations, and to a lesser degree, work. For many reasons, black women especially have entered the work force and excelled, and have risen to management positions in health, education, welfare as well as the corporate world. It is not unusual to have black colleagues, and bosses, but they represent a small portion of those who have entered the 'white' world, and may still be largely cut off from social interactions beyond professional affiliation. Of course there are exceptions, but even today, an inter-racial couple stands out, as does an inter-racial friendship.

Today kids, black and white, idolize Usher and Beyonce and whoever is current (pop culture changes so fast now that I will embarrass myself if I try to name too many); sports heroes from basketball, tennis and golf are black and multiracial. Many white kids want to be seen as being 'black;' while black kids from poorer families don't want to be perceived as being 'too white.' The higher the social status, the less this seems to be true, but it I think it still plays a subtle role.

I bought a house in Cleveland's near west side 13 years ago in a mostly stable, working class neighborhood - or so I thought. I was naive enough to believe that the many somewhat run-down homes on my street would be snapped up by young professionals ready to move back to the 'Comeback City' - in fact I had been told by a local housing specialist that the street was, 'a candy store for redevelopment.' In fact, though there was some of that activity, what actually happened was that unscrupulous mortgage loan officers and appraisers took advantage of the rapid appreciation of housing values in the late 90s to strip value from many of the homes, which are now vacant and abandoned, and in foreclosure. Other homes, left by their owners who have died or fled to the suburbs, have become part of the portfolio of poorly maintained rental properties, complete with absentee ownership and/or section 8 (voucher) tenants. This has concentrated poverty in an area that has no capacity to offer jobs, security or social services, that struggles with keeping the streets clean and demolishing the back log of blighted and condemned properties, much less code inspection or redevelopment strategies. It has become 'affordable housing by default.' This in spite of efforts of organizations like the Cleveland Housing Network to provide safe, secure and affordable housing.

Many of the new residents are young black or Hispanic men, evidently without jobs or daytime activities, beyond drug sales and loitering. They have no hope of entering the daily life of mainstream, middle class America - the government, union and working class jobs that once offered stability are not found in sufficient numbers for people of any race. The public education system for many has become a stop on the way into the prison system, challenged by vouchers and No Child Left behind to demonstrate competence when few resources are provided, and demands are high.

Meanwhile our 'ownership society' has glorified consumption and macho posturing, winner-take-all strategies and hopeless preening, empty faith and contempt for the meek, who are supposed to have a special place in our hearts. Young men brag of their sexual conquests, which now include impregnating as many young women as possible, who themselves have fallen sway to the culture of arrogance and oppression which engulfs them.

I look for a way out, a place for my idealized, multiracial society that includes people from a broad spectrum of economic life. One that includes tolerance, respect, and humility, and concern for common humanity. Instead I find an urban culture that has abandonment and disintegration on the one side, with a growing wealthy class on the other - and very little left for those in the middle. Ironically, perhaps, the wealthy class has come to include people from other cultures and colors, and is somewhat representative of the people who live in America (visit the Beachwood Mall and you will see it evident) - but assimilation for the middle class and the poor is more difficult.

Trying to provide for a healthy, safe and multicultural environment in which to raise a child is a real challenge for me, my wife and others who have chosen urban living over the outer suburbs. Settling in a few small areas of downtown, Tremont, Ohio City, and greater parts (though shrinking) of Lakewood and Cleveland Heights, are people who have been committed to living in a multicultural, economically diverse world. They are more than outnumbered by the many poor and struggling people who would like to leave the city but lack the resources. And as Cleveland shrinks, economically and in population, opportunities, resources and funding diminishes for education, health and safety. Housing becomes rundown, neighbors less engaged, schools poorer.

The options are to become a 'colonist' in these small oases of the urban fabric, using personal resources to network and find services and schools that the public sphere fails to provide. Feeling a social connection with neighbors who may not engage with the culture, or are actively hostile to it, and feel betrayed by it, is difficult and problematic. So, people self-segregate in enclaves - just as they did at the lunch tables and dorms at my college.

If you want a feeling of safety, of clean streets and neat lawns, of regular trash collection and good schools, you might start to look at the suburbs, as so many have before you. Ever further out there, pulling back from the urban core, in the expanding 'doughnut' ring of growth, or sprawl. Homes built in cornfields, 'power centers' and faux urban 'lifestyle centers' leave behind the empty storefronts and collapsing malls that serviced previous generations. And this is to say nothing about the environmental cost.

Efforts to restore and maintain the urban core are underway, and in fact, I have spent some years as a part of it. But as I watch opportunities move outward, and a Federal and State government that seems hostile to urban communities, I wonder. Should I, too, move to Lakewood or Cleveland Heights, or onward to Westlake or Solon? Assuming I could afford it, would I? As it is, I drive outward for activities for my child, for a lot of day-to-day shopping, for a bookstore to browse in - although I try as much as possible to spend my dollars at local urban shops, the selection is scattered, limited and niche driven. It takes a dedicated person (though I do know some) to completely avoid Trader Joe's, Borders and the Gap.

I have tried, through living in the city and being a part of it, to help to grow it, and to contribute to it. I am also committed to speaking the truth of my experience, no matter what the outcome may be. Race plays a role for some in the push to flee the city, while for others it is a reason to stay. It plays a role with the safety forces and fire unions, no less with residents and shoppers. But it is less about race than about culture, about comfort, convenience and safety, and also about assimilation, pride and opportunity.

Oh, I do wish that this mess had been cleaned up by a previous generation. That Martin Luther King, JFK and Bobby, Malcolm X, had lived, that the Vietnam War had never happened, that George W. Bush never sobered up enough to win - or steal - an election. But this is the world we do live in, and we will have to figure it out. I really don't know what to do at this point. Will I leave, too? Or stay and fight what sometimes feels like a losing battle?

Sweet & Lucky

I have 6 cupcakes in a box on the seat of my care today. From Sweet Mosaic, an in-house bakery located at Lucky’s Cafe in Tremont. And I made them.

Or really, I measured out flour, salt, shortening, vanilla, eggs, baking soda and baking powder, cinnamon, and vinegar to make the batter for banana cupcakes (I mashed the bananas too) and vanilla cake. Owner Heather Haviland mixed the batter in a vintage Hobart, showed me how to slather the mix in a pan, and she baked, cooled, frosted and decorated everything.

I was her sidekick for a day, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Imagine. Here you are in heaven. It smells like – well, a bakery. And it is an amazingly beautiful day in Cleveland, which is something I cannot always say. Small space. Kind of like being in a submarine, and we once in a while look through the porthole of the door at the ‘house,’ to see who’s in the coffee shop and what’s going on.

My coworkers are David, an apprentice baker who is finishing up culinary school, and Jody, manager of the coffee shop. David has an easy-going, low-key but friendly manner. Heather calls him ‘Sweetie.’ Jody with her blond ponytail tucked under a cap, has the breezy, confident manner of a barmaid. Which she has been, and is pleased to not be doing now.

While we work, a stream of people poke their heads into one of two doors to the tiny workspace. Keith Sutton, owner of the shop. Matt, a chef with the Barricelli Inn. Carl, photographer and local gardener. A former customer, a lady with cat’s eye glasses, pokes her head in the door and greets Heather, who says, you have to try this cake, I’ll bring some out later. Many get a hug, all get a smile and a warm greeting.

With NPR in the background, we work. With a little banter and some joking (Jody is mad – mad – that she was left out of the late Friday night pizza party for staff), we assemble ingredients in freshly cleaned containers, and slide pans of fragrant cakes into and out of the oven. The triple sink is never empty for long, and every item is returned to a storage rack, table tray, drawer or shelf.

As we work, I learn more about baking, and about my coworkers. I learn that gluten, the essential component for both bread and cake, must be treated differently for different products. For bread, you want a stretchy, sticky dough that comes from the pulling, kneading and rising. For cake, you want the gluten to be light and fluffy, brought out by light mixing and minimal processing. I learn that Heather has worked as a potter, owned a restaurant in Bearsville in New York State, and spent six years as a blacksmith. Without the benefit of a culinary education, she has worked in top area restaurants. Every recipe in the shop has been developed through painstaking trial and error. I find out that David grew up in Mentor, as did I, and that he is a fellow suburbanite who has chosen to live in the city. In addition to cooking, he would love to paint. Jody has worked in many restaurants and bars, but this is what she loves. Getting up at 5:30 am to prepare for the morning shift, greeting the first customers of the day, and of course, brewing wonderful coffee. This makes her happy in a way that bartending never did, she tells me. I also learn that she has a degree in sculpture, and in horticulture. She’s smart and funny and an excellent manager. Jody, like David, lives in Tremont. That’s one of the things that makes Tremont special for me – people who work here, tend to live here, too.

“Are you an oil person, or a butter person?” Heather asks me. Butter, I say. Good, she answers (she is too). Frequently, Heather will pull something from the oven, cut it up and everyone gets a taste. Right now, it’s a loaf of crusty, sourdough bread. “We use a hybrid sourdough, an Italian ‘levain’ method, combined with an American technique, due to our limited cooler space” …whatever. The bread is heavenly.

Jody takes me up to the front of the shop, to show me how to make a cappuccino and a latte. I am shown how to grind fresh coffee and place it in the metal widget that holds it tight in the machine, hand-packing the coffee to exactly 14 pounds of pressure, or close to it. We foam the milk to the proper fluffy peak; I use a thermometer gauge, Jody does it by the sound of the hot steam in the milk, changing the density of the butter fat and proteins and thus the pitch of the air flowing through the hot liquid. I am taught the difference between skim, whole milk and soy. Like everything else here, it’s a combination of art and science, intuition and intellect.

I think this is what I like about cooking – it engages the intellect to the extent that you want to, but really, it comes down to developing an artist’s eye, the sense of touch and smell – this is what makes a great cook, and a good one at home. I tell Heather that I like to cook, but I haven’t done much baking, because it requires strictly following the recipe and measuring it all out. She tells me that I am wrong, that a good baker can adjust each recipe by feel, allowing for changes in the weather, the ingredients or the desired outcome.

I guess it would be interesting to report that Tremont is full of sharp edges and odd angles, that anything named Sweet Mosaic must contain a bitter finish. But this isn’t so, not here. I close the day with a hug from Heather, as she rushes out to take a plate of warm cake to the lady with the cat’s eye glasses.

Lucky’s, which houses Sweet Mosaic and features fresh bakery daily, is located at 777 Starkweather in Tremont. Sweet Mosaic website is: http://www.sweetmosaic.com/

Yoga Happy Hour

Yoga is hot. Over the years it has gone from being granola crunchy to mainstream. While it still has the faint scent of patchouli about it, you can find a Yoga studio in almost every small town, city or neighborhood anywhere in the country. If not a studio, you will find a class in a church, home or workshop somewhere.

Studio 11 is one of two places I know of to do yoga in Tremont, the other being Pilgrim Church. Ohio City used to have the West Side Y, which closed, but teacher Joan McGuire still teaches at the Franklin Circle Church and at Buck Harris' studio, 'No Place Like Om' in Detroit Shoreway; and classes are held at MorrisonDance studios in Ohio City. I am sure there are others, but those are ones that I have personally attended.

Last week, as part of my efforts to get to know the Tremont business owners a bit better, I volunteered to work at the Friday Karma Yoga 'Happy Hour' that Studio 11 sponsors, very popular during Art Walks. This evening would be special, because the class would be led by husband and wife team Tammi and Terry Singley, followed by a potluck dinner (including treats from 'Take A Bite' owners Tom and Joy Harlor) and poetry reading. What more could I ask for?

As the 'Karma Yogi' (volunteer) for the evening, I arrived at 5:00 pm to help set up. Tiiu Gennert, who with Kate Murch is a founder/owner of Studio 11, met me at the door with her infectious enthusiasm radiating. She is one of those overachievers who could be really irritating if she weren't so dang nice (yoga teacher, Pilates instructor, Thai massage practitioner - not to mention lawyer, theater person, sports enthusiast). And yes, Tiiu is her given name, and Eastern European rather than Sanskrit as I had assumed. We ran around and lit incense, arranged yoga blankets, prepared artichoke dip, and hauled stuff from the upstairs yoga studio to the downstairs Pilates area, site of the potluck and poetry reading.

Studio 11 is in the triangular shaped entrance to Lemko Hall. The Lemkos were Eastern Europeans with a fascinating history (see the website: http://lemko.org/genealogy/buryk.html). The hall is famous for being featured in the 1970s classic movie 'The Deer Hunter.' The Studio 11 space is a wide, welcoming, room, with candles, incense and a springy Pergo floor, perfect for yoga. Years ago a friend of mine had a studio here when she was a student at the Cleveland Institute of Art - she made an enormous American flag made out of woven lead fabric on the floor; I remember several other artists rented the space before Tremont was hot. Architect Bob Vayda updated the space when he bought it, leasing it to a gallery for a number of years before he created a yoga studio, Prava, which he subsequently sold to Tiiu and Kate.

Kate looks like a 1930s movie star, tall and elegant. Together she and Tiiu embody what makes Tremont special - young, enterprising, and fun. They laugh a lot, and seem not to take themselves or anything too seriously - except in their desire to have a great yoga studio.

Just before 6:oo pm people start to arrive - an older guy, a mom with her pre-teen daughter, established professional women, 20-somethings, a couple, an older woman who is trying yoga for the first time - eventually 40 people fill the room. My job is to collect the $5 donation for tonight's special class, make sure they sign in and that new people fill out the health survey. It's a daunting task to keep up, and I try to project a yoga-appropriate air of calm and serenity.

Tammi and Terry are charismatic and skillful leaders. They tag team on leading yoga and adjusting postures. There is a great feeling in the room, as there usually is during a yoga class. There's a lot of laughter in between poses - Terry especially, is funny, and has kind of a 'yoga tough guy' thing going on. He's an expert with a group. His wife is quieter, focused and keeps things rolling. Before you know it, we are in final relaxation pose. I try not to feel ridiculous, as I have been pushed out to the entry way by the capacity crowd; my yoga moves are visible in the doorway to anyone who is sitting at Civilization or Studio Le Beau. But I have a good yoga buzz on so what do I care? Tiiu instructs me how to sweep the floor 'McDonald's Style' (a continuous zig zag) and we're done.

The potluck that follows is a surprise - about half the attendees stay on, and eat delicious food. The poetry reading is limited to two performers - one, a lawyer who became a yoga practitioner without realizing his connections to Tiiu - they worked at the same law firm at one time. He read his rhyming couplets to much laughter as Tom and Joy's children raced about and people lounged on yoga blankets finishing their tea or beer. The other reader had been the first to arrive that evening, he recited a heartfelt poem that he had not written but had enjoyed and wanted to share. People lingered for longer than I expected, and it made for a perfect evening.

I am so glad there is a yoga studio in Tremont. Kate told me: "I feel like the energy in Tremont has just been building and building for 20 years or more, and now we are a part of it." I think she's right.

The Studio 11 website can be found at: http://www.studio11tremont.com/index.htm

Preservation Gospel

Tomorrow the architects and owners of the Gospel Press building will present their rehabilitation plan to the Cleveland Landmarks Commission. This is an amazing event and one I thought might never happen. For years the building has sat empty or near empty. A succession of artists, bohemians and developers had had their dreams dashed in their dealings with previous owner Joe Skully, who was smart like a fox and good at dangling people's hopes just out of reach. At one time, the building was going to be the Tremont Cultural Center, a grand live/work project. A group of artists lived within the cold, dank walls of this mausoleum, working for free for Joe to try to salvage the decrepit yet beautiful building. Nothing much ever came from it except bitter feelings and dashed hopes.

Now someone with the capacity to take on a project of this scale has done so - a developer who is willing to work within the confines of Historic Preservation. There are tax advantages to this, and a project of this scale will need subsidy of some type to make sense. It is simply too big, and the building needs too much work, to go about it any other way. I hope the project is successful.

If you love old buildings, you will likely have your heart broken more often than not. Many many beautiful buildings from Cleveland's past are destroyed - from the humble Carpenter's Gothic farmhouse (c. 1840s) that was torn down (in the dead of night without a permit) on W. 25th St. to East Cleveland's gorgeous Kirk Middle School - one of the finest public education buildings I have ever been in (marble floors, murals, brass ornamentation, sculpture - and columns that one of the E. Cleve council members said reminded her of slavery). And many others. I have literally lost sleep worrying about buildings that were to be demolished.

Recently I took an online poll which was meant to determine the polltaker's level of mental health. In the category of 'Obsessive Compulsive Disorder' I scored high under the heading of "an unwilliness to let go of the past, even if the object no has a purpose for you." I have no idea why these things correlate, but I think it is interesting. And I can tell you that many of the staunch historic preservationists I have met are - well, a bit odd. OCD would likely show up in their mental profile. But then I suppose I am a bit odd myself.

Some people are completely unsentimental about old buildings. They make good developers, because they see a building in terms of financial yield, and they understand that historic 'charm' is one of the possibly marketable commodities that can help sell a project. But they have the ability to step back and be honest, because charm is only one many characteristics that can make a project economically viable. To the dyed in the wool historic preservationist, each building has a history, a story to tell, a personality - a soul. So a demolition or a terrible renovation is a shock, a kind of a murder.

Architecture is as trendy as clothing, and as fickle. Victorian homes were considered 'ugly' and 'grotesque' in the tract house era of the 1950s and many were torn down or 'modernized.' 1950s aluminum siding makes way for vinyl siding in the 1980s that now steps aside for Hardie Board or galvanized metal. Entire neighborhoods become 'obsolete' only to become fashionable again. The 1950s ranch home that I disdained is now 'mid-century modern' and desirable. And of course, American society is so mobile that entire states can suffer a net loss of population yielding a surplus of unwanted housing (hello Ohio).

I have hardened my heart to the loss of buildings. I try to look at them as just a pile of sticks and stones, without souls. They have utility or they don't, and the market will determine that. It's the American way. But still, I cheer when a victory is won, and a building that might tell a good story - and maybe has a soul - is saved. You go, Gospel Press.

Urban Disturbance

As I walked out of my house this past Sunday morning I noticed something a little strange - the hood of our Honda was cracked open just a bit. Uh oh. The driver-side door was unlocked; I've done this before, it's easy enough to forget to lock it. I jumped in and turned the key - the engine turned over but no spark, as they say on Car Talk. I popped open the hood and well - no wiring harness, no spark plugs. Someone had stolen the wiring right out of my car! Damn!

I've lived in the city for 20 years now and in the Southern Tremont/Metro area for 13. In that time I have had one car vandalized, had the plates stolen off of my van, my garage broken into and had a bike and lawn mower stolen, had a table stolen off of my front porch, and now this. I guess that is not too bad a track record for the time involved - I remind myself that when my sister lived in Manhatten I was amazed to hear that someone had stolen the eye shades out of her car; that and being mugged on the subway. I feel that crime is pretty low in Cleveland.

But still. It is aggravating. My neighbor had the stainglass windows stolen out of his Victorian home in the middle of the day. I have cleaned up buckets of trash off of the street and sidewalk including unbagged dirty diapers and a chicken carcass. I have been on my front porch as I watched some kid let his pit bull crap on my lawn. I have seen numerous homes go into foreclosure and become boarded up eyesores that have not been rehabbed. I have called in drug dealing to the police more times than I can count, I have witnessed drag racing on my residential street. I have had some idiot kid try to intimidate me by tailing me and revving his engine. I heard gunshots at night and there have been two murders within a block of my house that I know of - one was a robbery at a convenience store and the other may have been a drug deal gone bad.

I used to feel 'if you care about the city, you should live in it.' That was going to be the topic sentence for an editorial I never wrote. I believed it fervently. When I first bought a house in the city I proudly used the term 'urban pioneer' (until I heard that the phrase was racist because what about the people, largely nonwhite, who came before me?) But now I feel less like a pioneer and more like a - victim. Sometimes. Especially when the spark plugs are stolen right out from under the hood of my car.

On the other side of the ledger - my young neighbor, Jerrod, who tells me he 'lives for it' when I tell him not to work too hard - he's helping me rake leaves. Or the three young sisters who stop by to leave presents, cards and their school pictures. Or my neighbor, who organized a prayer vigil in the dead of winter for the young mother who died in that convenience store robbery. There is the music of many languages, the smells of Puerto Rican cooking, the West Side Market, the local church that still conducts services in German.

It's my job to market the city and Tremont to young professionals, visitors, shoppers. Which I proudly do. I also spend a lot of time with the 'grassroots' - block club members who have lived here for decades - doing neighborhood cleanups, writing grants, staffing meetings. The trick is to balance the competing concerns of the new well-to-do and the old been-here-firsts, and do what is right for everyone.

But where do I fall? My love of old architecture, walkable streets, church steeples, history, diversity and urban texture, even if it includes some urban grit, is giving way. Giving way to concerns for safety, convenience, schools. My wife and I have a young daughter, just nine months old. How do we want her to grow up? Where?

My feeling that the personal is political, that I could change things by being a part of it, is diminishing. I now see things in broader, bigger terms, of forces largely beyond the control of any one person. And while this makes me feel less angry at times about personal loses, it makes me feel less passionate about the city. And that makes me sad.

Cleveland Colectivo

About a year ago I started circulating around an email that basically said, hey, I'm tired of talking about changing things in Cleveland, I want to take some direct action - anyone else feel that way? Well, the response was pretty amazing. I got a ton of emails. And eventually, some of the people who had emailed met, talked it over, and the Cleveland Colectivo was born. It's not such a big deal - just a group of friends and acquaintances who have decided to pool money and resources and then did some research on how to set up an informal charitable organization, or Giving Circle. We've attracted about 25 members and made regular donations and now we have $5000 to give away, or invest. We don't have much in the way of formal funding criteria, and the application process couldn't be easier - just answer three questions and send in via email on our website, and the first part is done. The second part would be getting invited back to present your idea to the group.

The deadline is mid-January to send the email, and the website is:

http://www.clevelandcolectivo.org/

Individuals, organizations, start-up businesses and non-profits are all welcome to apply, and we plan to make awards ranging from $500 to $5000.

Oh yes - we'd like to have more new members too - either fully contributing members who join for $100/quarter (people can pair up to join also); or volunteer members who do everything the others do but who do not have a final vote on funding. Also members can bring their own projects to the table for consideration, but must abstain when the vote is called.

We meet on the third Wednesdays of the month. I will post the next meeting time and location here as well. But in the meanwhile, visit the site and figure out a way to spend our money - doing something really, really cool.

Pre Fab Homes

Recently I ran across a really great book called 'Good House Cheap House' which was full of articles and illustrations of sleek, modern homes built dirt cheap (relatively). Wouldn't it be cool to see something like this in Cleveland?

This website has tons of information about modular homes that could make this possible.

http://www.fabprefab.com/

Cleveland Wiki (CleveWiki)

Looks like someone is setting up a Cleveland Wiki, which is a user-defined site for all things Cleveland - including Tremont. Visit the site and add to the knowledge base for the neighborhood (or Cleveland in general):

http://clevewiki.com/wiki/index.php/Tremont