Ode to Oakland - Part 2

Wow. My “Ode to Oakland” post really resonated with a lot of you. I can’t say I’m surprised. Actually, it’s really sad that so many of you feel my pain – that Oakland has done this to so many of us. I don’t how you all stumbled onto my post, but I really appreciate everyone’s stories and support. Your stories resonated with me too. There were some great points made in the comments, and I’d like to respond to and expand upon some of them.

“I've never been treated so poorly by an organization and a City department in my whole life.”

This from Matt, who wanted access to the driveway of a city funded retirement so he could paint the side of his house. Come on Oakland, this is that habit of sabotaging anything good that happens to you I’m talking about. Someone wants to make improvements on his house, which improves the city. What’s your problem Oakland?

"Have seen so many young couples leave Oakland and move on to towns that 'didn't eat their own.'"

Len, you hit the nail on the head there. Your comment almost made me cry. Yes, I do feel like Oakland has tried to eat me alive and drive me out, yet I was its most ardent supporter and defender. Fool me once, Oakland, shame on me. Fool me twice, I’m outta here.

“Younger folks than us will have to pick up the ball, we wish them all the best.”

Anonymous, your note was so sweet you did make me cry. Sounds like you guys landed in a great town and I hope we will too. And I totally understand what you mean about feeling jumpy – Oakland has made me that way too. Before my husband was robbed at gunpoint (see the $40 Potato), my neighbor across the street was car jacked in front of her own house. She had gone out to the car for something and a group of kids with guns demanded her keys and took off in her car. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to leave my front door without looking both ways, just to make sure it’s safe. It’s really no way to live. Even though I’m only in my late 20s, I swear I’m too old for this crap. I hear you sister: Folks younger than me will have to pick up the ball.

“… a big city, and especially corrupt, rotten, overpaid city of Oakland with its gang and drug generational thug families, is NOT a place I will stay permanently.”

I know it’s not politically correct to talk about generational thug families because it implies we’re talking about a specific racial group, but really, here in the city of Oakland thugs come in all colors and sizes so it’s not like we’re picking on one group or another. With that said, Brell, I’ve never heard it put quite like this, but your idea of Generational Thug Families holding the city hostage seems to fit. Case in point: the Bey family. It’s amazing to think how deeply in bed they were (and still are) with the city and OPD. Yusuf Bey IV has been recorded on tape talking about how the City Council was afraid of him and that an OPD detective was basically in his back pocket. What? All this, and BART almost gave $1.1 million in city contracts to a member of the Bey family. Seriously?

“Oakland doesn't care about its Middle Class, only about City Workers & wealth transfer. It believes there are only rich & poor, nothing in between, and acts accordingly (witness tapping property taxes for everything).”

So true! I was FLOORED when I found out that homeowners in the City of Alameda actually pay less taxes than we do here in Oakland, because they don’t have a million assessments on top of the county percentage. Yet the schools are good in Alameda. The cops come when you call. The streets aren’t full of potholes. It’s a very stupid policy to dump on your middle class, because we are the backbone of any community. The rich in Oakland can give a damn about its public schools because their kids go to Head Royce. They can give a damn about cops and crime because they lock themselves up in the hills behind iron gates and security systems. They can give a damn about potholes because their cars have great suspension, unlike the buckets some of us drive.

“Soon as we can, we're going to move on… all of us are considering moving after going through the latest crime wave, and with the politicians all but ignoring us.”

I can’t blame you for wanting to leave. Do you live in the Laurel? I’m in Allendale, right below the Laurel. This latest crime wave in Oakland was also our final shove out the door. I was walking my dog past my neighbor’s house recently and saw him putting bars on his windows. So sad…. especially since because the previous owner taken down the bars a few years ago to much applause from everyone in the neighborhood. But my new neighbor was broken into and the robbers came through a window, and he saw no other option but to put up bars. Sucks. We told him to put up a gate and get a dog, but he wasn't interested.

So in my one-block radius within the past 2.5 months, a woman was carjacked in front of her house, my husband was robbed at gunpoint around the corner from our house, and my neighbor’s home was broken into. And that’s just the people we know! It’s not like I’m a social butterfly around here (see my previous note about looking both ways before walking out my own front door). Yet the City Council’s big thing right now is building a new stadium for the As in Jack London Square. Priorities?

“If Oakland is to become better, we must stay to help make it work.”

I hear you, Steve from Glenview. And if I lived in the Glenview, I might be able to hang on a little longer, but I live in the Allendale, and I can’t take anymore. Like a previous commenter said, younger folks than me will have to pick up the ball, and I wish them all the best. I truly do. In fact, I’ll rent them my house for a song.

“Remember the good times to your new friends in the ‘sticks’.”

Amen! I will try my best.

The $40 Potato

It was the Sunday before Christmas 2009 and we needed potatoes. There was a fabulous roast in the oven and we had a hankering for mashed potatoes. We should've driven to Farmer Joe's, our local grocer, for some yukon golds or reds, but we got lazy. Hubby said "I'll just walk around to the corner store and grab some russets." Big Mistake.

Walking out the corner store my husband was followed by three guys. They were young and not even all that sketchy looking. But about half way down the block they surrounded my husband - one of the guys got in front, two stayed behind. The guy in front was holding something in his right pocket. A brief exchange went down kind of like this:

Guy:         Hey man what you got in your wallet?

Husband:  You don't want to do this. Seriously, it's not worth your time.

Guy:         What you got in that wallet man?

Husband:  Really, this isn't worth it. You don't want to do this.

Guy:         What you got in your wallet?

Husband:  *thinks* I can take out his skinny punk ass and break his face right here right now. But his buddies are behind me and they'll probably stab me or shoot me. What's he holding in his pocket? Maybe it's a gun. Maybe not. I'm not giving him anything until I see the gun.

Husband:  Well what you got in your pocket?

Guy:          What you got in your wallet?

Husband:    What you got in your pocket?

*and so on and so forth*

Finally the guy pulls out a silver revolver. He was so nervous his hand trembled as he held the gun. This made him super scary and super dangerous. A scared robber is much more likely to shoot by accident than a confident robber.  No one wants a hole in their stomach just because your robber was spooked by a car that backfired down the block.  At this point my husband realized the game was up. He pulls out all the cash he had in his wallet, a whooping $40, and tosses it at the guy. The guy and his two buddies take off running down the street.

Key takeaways from this story:

1. It's time to leave Oakland.

2. Be smart if you're mugged. Give them just your cash and not your whole wallet. Imagine the hassle of having cancel all your credit cards, get a new drivers license, etc.

3. You can't talk them out of it. Just hand it over.

Ode to Oakland

Dearest Oakland,

It's with a heavy heart that I write this letter to bid you farewell. I'm leaving you. It was not an easy decision to make. You were my first love, the first city where I really felt I belonged. When I met you I was fresh-faced college freshman. Freshwoman, actually, in the lingo of Mills College, the women's liberal arts college that brought us together. Back then, you were like an older, mature, experienced lover. Not like the boys I dated back in high school. You had dark alleys that no girl should ever tread alone, but you also had wonderfully deep and lush trails nestled in the hills where a girl can ride her mountain bike and daydream. You had some serious social and emotional issues but you also had that urbane, diverse, sexy and slightly dangerous exterior that drew in naive young girls like me by the busloads.

When I graduated from college and our initial courtship ended, I left for what I thought were greener pastures. But I came running back to you, fleeing the safe suburb and white-bread homogeneousness that I was too young to resign myself to. I craved excitement, activism, and the ridiculous high cost of living that comes with being in an urban environment. I craved you.

So I came back, and for a while I got what I wanted. I lived on the border of Temescal and Rockridge, where I commuted to my waitressing job on a scooter. I could walk to Market Hall to pick up over-priced cheese and produce. On weekends we would drink lattes at Peaberry's sidewalk tables and watch the middle-aged yuppies push their babies around in strollers that cost more than my monthly rent. After getting drunk at the neighborhood pub I could stumble home to my studio cottage that was not much more than a converted garage. You and me, Oakland, we had a good thing going.

But then I grew up, got married, and realized I couldn't be a waitress for the rest of my life. I joined the rank and file and got a real job with steady paychecks, paid vacation and health insurance. When the real estate craze hit I was newly married with fantasies of laying down roots. Of course I wanted a piece of you, Oakland. I couldn't imagine buying a house anywhere else in the Bay Area. I wasn't going to be one of those people who go running for the suburbs when it was time to buy a house, robbing the cities of its tax base. I was not going to contribute to white flight, especially since I'm not white. You, Oakland, you had problems, but I was going to stick with you. I was going to make you better.

Flash forward to 2009. My husband and I have poured our money, our blood sweat and tears, our very heart and soul, into this house we bought 5 years ago. No, it's not in the Temescal or Rockridge. We couldn't afford those parts of you. Our home is in one of your modest working class neighborhoods near Mills College. Below *gasp* 580.  I've done everything I can to be a positive influence on this neighborhood. I worked with my neighbors to petition the city for sidewalk trees. Flowering plums. Nine of them on my block. They're getting ready to bloom right now. I attended neighborhood watch meetings. I reached out to my neighbors. I tried to make you better, Oakland. But after 5 years it's clear that I'm not enough for you. All the people who love you and live within your borders aren't enough for you.

Oakland, you need professional help. You have this habit of sabotaging anything good that happens to you. You turn your back on those who love you most. You shit on the wonderful neighbors and homeowners in my neighborhood and beyond, the people who patronize your local business out of a sense of civic duty, the people who bought your properties at ridiculous prices and pay your crazy taxes without getting any services in return. You shit on us by robbing us, breaking into our houses, breaking into our cars, giving us dirty looks as we walk down the street as if we don't belong with you.

I'm tired of the way you treat me. I'm tired of your corruption, your bankrupt morals, your useless elected officials. I'm leaving you, but I know that deep down you will always be a part of me. I own a piece of you, which is basically like having your baby. I'm stuck with you until the kid turns 18, or until the market turns around and we can sell our house to the next set of idealistic urban warriors.

I may sound bitter, but I think in time it'll fade and turn bittersweet. As much pain as it's caused, this fling of ours has also brought me a lot of joy. It is an experience I will always treasure. I know you like the back of my hand and I will be back often to visit your Chinatown, your pho restaurants, and your taco trucks.

I truly wish with all my heart that someday you will get the help that you need to realize your full potential. I like to think I made a difference in your life as you did in mine. Maybe you're like an addict who just constantly needs people to believe in and support you. You'll always be an addict, and you'll burn through your supporters like you burned through me, but I can't help but hope that if we keep trying, if the busloads of idealistic and naive girls keep coming, someday you'll change your ways and become the city you were meant to be.