Being Known

I have often heard (and told) of the power of being known. It makes all the difference in relationships and feeling like you belong. It can change who you are and how you feel about yourself. But, really, when it comes down to it, how much does it really matter?

This week, I gain some small insights on this topic from an unusual place- a neighborhood coalition meeting that I went to for work. It had the typical poke-your-eyes out meeting feel, making us sign up for committees, talking about irrelevant topics, and digressing to no end. (Did I tell you I hate when people waste my time especially in meetings?) The aim of this coalition is to reduce violence in DC's Ward 6 (where I live and work), my part is to provide education because a more educated community is a less-violent community. True story. Also present for this meeting were two police officers. The lieutenant who is in charge of our precinct stood up and spoke and here was his story.

This summer, violence was at an all-time high in our area. Without fail, there was an assault or robbery every night. The police officers noticed that 90% of these violent acts were committed by juveniles. Knowing they needed to do something, they created a youth task force, ok, it was just two officers, but it was a force to be sure. Their only job was to drive around the precinct and look for juveniles. Everyday. The two officers would stop, introduce themselves to the adolescents, and learn the kids' names. Everyday. If they saw the same teens on Monday and again on Tuesday, they would still stop them, say hello and call them by name. In a short amount of time, the officers knew the younger members of the community. And more importantly, the youth knew that the officers knew them, knew their names, and knew where they lived.

And guess what happened? The violent crimes in the area dropped by 80%. EIGHTY PERCENT fewer muggings, fewer breaking and enterings, fewer robberies, fewer cars broken into. Can you believe it? These officers didn't DO anything: they didn't break up fights, pull guns off the streets, or look for bad guys. They just got to know their neighbors, and my neighbors. That, my friends, is a strong testament to the power of being known and getting to know.

MFA program- Converse!

Some of you already know this from facebook or from real live conversation, but I realized I hadn't told my blog about deciding on an MFA program. I'll be honest, sending those applications in for grad schools to read my poetry and to decide if I made the cut required a good bit of courage. You can't imagine how excited, and a little shocked, I was to find out I was accepted to all the programs I applied to. More than anything, I realized that the step of courage was a step in the right direction. If I hadn't gotten in to any of the programs, that would have been a pretty clear sign it wasn't meant to be. I know I owe most of my thanks to Winn and Heather for writing amazing recommendations.

Since I will be doing a low-residency program without the traditional class setting, it is even more important that the instructors/advisers/mentors are strong writers that I want to learn from. And that is why I chose Converse College. Pitted against attending programs in Boston or Seattle, Spartanburg, SC doesn't even come close to making the list of places I want to spend 50 days over the next 2 years. Especially after trying to leave SC for so long. Oh the irony, oh God's twisted sense of humor, to send me back to SC! But honestly, it came down to the quality of instructors at Converse. Plus I am hoping to crash on some friends' couches in Greenville.

Two of the poets I am most excited about learning from are Denise Duhamel and Claudia Emerson. I admit that I have had a bit of a poetry crush on Duhamel since I read her in college. Recently sitting in a coffee shop reading her new book of poetry, my giddy little heart realized how amazing this opportunity will be. I am terrified to meet some of these writers in person, let alone have them read and critique my work. But here's to growing and learning and writing and doing things that scare the crap out of you.

Here is a short poem by Denise Duhamel for your enjoyment.

Buddhist Barbie

In the 5th century B.C.

an Indian philosopher

Gautama teaches "All is emptiness"

and "There is no self."

In the 20th century A.D.

Barbie agrees, but wonders how a man

with such a belly could pose,

smiling, and without a shirt.

6 months in DC

We just passed the 6 month mark on our DC-dom. There are small signs of settling in. I know the streets better, thanks in part to the thoughtful person who snagged our GPS. We have found good Indian food. Once, on the mall, we ran into someone we knew.

And then there are those huge gaps. We haven't had great, cheap Monterreys-esque Mexican. Catan is not so fond of being an indoor city dog and I am always feeling a little guilty about that. We haven't found a church or made very many new friends yet. I am pretty ready to jump into both. I love love love our house, but it doesn't feel like ours. Moving from owning to renting has been surprisingly difficult. Our little house in Central was so homey, full of friends, and mainly, ours. Now it feels like we are crashing at somebody's place. When the air conditioner breaks or something leaks, I feel like I am imposing on our landlord to ask him to fix things. The idea of ownership really blends into the idea of belonging to a place and it belonging to you. Renting feels like dating, it's nice and all, but it's not nearly as nice and settled as marriage.

Which brings us to my favorite part of DC. Michael. DC has been one of our great adventures- specifically the one that I have been longing for for the last 4 years. I had hoped DC would give us a chance to try us against the world, a world of unknown places and people, clinging only to each other, and I have not been disappointed. Five years from now, with screaming kids in tow, I know we will look back at this period as one of our favorite times during our marriage. So, DC is far from feeling like home, but it sure is a great adventure.

Here is photographic evidence of the great adventure that can be found just walking home from lunch one Sunday. Trying out a free mattress. And a bumper sticker that describes me completely.