Charleston Is the Land of No
One of my urban neighbors has chickens in the backyard. I know these illicit chickens exist because – by accident – one of the chicks grew up to be a rooster. A rooster that doesn’t just cock-a-doodle-do in the early morning hours; he enjoys the sound of his exuberant cackling all day long.
Mr. Rooster is likely illegal, by the way. He’s not supposed to be living in downtown Charleston.
I live in a city, not a big city, mind you, but one that does contain a few blocks of mixed-up commercial and dense residential development. It’s been that way for hundreds of years: people moving in and out; going to war; making stuff and selling stuff. All sorts of unmentionable things went on in people’s back yards.
Charleston wears me out. It is the ultimate Land of No, where people become hysterical over businesses locating within blocks of their third mansion. Where historically the train couldn’t enter the city because, well, it was a train, and trains contain, well, YOU KNOW. Where the last City Council meeting – a preposterous swath of it, anyway – was taken up with a discussion about the rectal temperatures of the horses that pull the tourists around in carriages, not because anyone really cares about the horses, but because they really just don’t like the carriages riding around their historic neighborhoods. (As an aside, I live in an historic neighborhood, and I don’t give a crap how many carriages parade through it.)
I know Charleston isn’t unique. Every place has its issues. But dang, people. I am so tired of hearing about the unredeeming qualities of cruise ships. I’ve been one of ‘those people’ on a cruise ship. I spent more money in Seattle, the port city for the ship, than I did on the freaking boat. The City of Seattle should’ve sent me a thank you note, an invitation to come back soon with wallet in tow. Several restaurants should’ve thrown parties for me.
I’m sick of getting mail from fear-mongering non-profits who want to manufacture causes to raise money and promote personalities. Any big issue is too complex to have one meager ‘right’ answer. I can see your point of view; I can also see many others. I don’t care if you disagree with me, but give me back my outings and social events without getting into a snit because I may not agree with you, or worse, haranguing my under-paid civil servant spouse during his free time.
Today, I’m celebrating that my neighbor has possibly illegal chickens in downtown Charleston. I don’t care. I’m not going to march over there and tell them NO. I’m not going to suggest that we construct chicken-proof gates or wring my hands over the unseemly impact of chicken poop. Heck, there’s enough arsenic in our downtown soil to make people crazy, even today.
Hmmmmmm. Maybe THAT’S what’s wrong with people. Arsenic.
Yeah.
A repost to end my Charleston series, from back in the days when I lived in an old Charleston single house. We’re still hearing about the cruise ships, and I’m sure the Recent Unpleasantness on the High Seas will only fan the flame. Perhaps the nine dead bodies (and counting) that have been unearthed at MTM’s Gaillard building site will distract people……..but, I doubt it. The first post in the series is here, the second post is here, the third post is here, the fourth post is here, the fifth post is here, the sixth post is here and the seventh post is here.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- What To Do With Dead Bodies | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- How to Kill a Body Dead | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Waiting To Be Laid Low | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- I Got a Boner | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- I’m Late For a Very Important Date | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- O Death, Where Is Thy Sting? | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- The Valley of Dry Bones | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- A Breath of Charleston Spring | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
- Magnolia Cemetery Is THE Place to be Dead | The Accidental Cootchie Mama
Why can’t we all just get along? Is it possible that humans could get together and find a compromise that will make everyone happy? I guess people from all walks of life hate change. I certainly do not have all the answers.
People naturally categorize other people. It’s what we do when we form first impressions, whether fair or not. It’s how we categorize people who went to a certain school, like a specific team, vote for a certain party or live in a certain neighborhood. We naturally categorize everything, and it is a hard habit to break. I think that contributes much to this dynamic. If people would cross those divides and get to know each other, it might not be as bad. But, it could also be worse, I suppose.
Rerun!
You could at least moan about the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition since it is this weekend. But then again, I am enjoying that. Dogs!
I don’t even know what I would write about SEWE, Carnell. See response to James above. I vividly remember my thoughts about it the last time I went. In 1998. It wouldn’t be fair to write about it after no experience for that length of time.
I thoroughly enjoy all the hub bub raised by all the various factions on cruises, horses, skeletons, and monster hotels. Fun to watch from across the harbor as the snooty ones create new code words to describe “those people”.
You’ve been on a number of fun cruises.
Yep, I’ve been one of “those people” 25 times.
I salute the urban chicken farmer!
I live in a freaking blue-collar suburb of Boston and I can’t have chickens in my reasonably sized little backyard because of noise or filth or somesuch nonsense.
And of course, my second home for many years was Beacon Hill, a land of obscure regulations and historial hand-wringing to make your head spin.
In Charleston, they allow hens but not roosters. It was nice getting fresh eggs from the neighbors sometimes, usually after one of their hens came over to visit us.
I can’t even begin to imagine what Beacon Hill must be like from that perspective.
Now about those chickens, I just had someone from NJ call this week wanting to know if they could raise chickens for organic eggs if they bought a home someplace near MUSC. I said that you would have to check with the City but the answer would most likely be NO.
On the other hand, I’m for cruise ships, carriage rides and for this weekend anyway, dogs shopping in the finest stores on King Street.
As of my last look, Howard, they can have hens but not roosters. I hope they’ll go for it.
Oh, oh, oh…I’m hopeful that you will have a blog about those 6 bodies…macabre minds and all that. I must say I’m a tad sad to see this series end.
MTM is trying to talk me into that one, Lori. We’ll see.
Oh I hate snobby bullshit like that which you describe. And yes, I get annoyed with the constant stream of “support my cause” e-mails that I accidentally subject myself to by agreeing with maybe ONE THING a group puts out. So if they got me in person, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very nice. I might, for example, be forced to twist the famous quotation and say, “I may agree with every word you say, but I shall fight to the death to forbid you to say it”
My favorite snobby term is ‘common.’ As in, “that unfortunate Andra Watkins is so common.” It is still hard for me to believe that people will term other people that way, or even think they have a right to do so.
The more things change, the more they stay the same; in some places anyway.
If you want chickens in your backyard, move to South Bend, IN. They have recently made it possible and official: http://www.backyardchickens.com/a/south-bend-indiana-chicken-ordinance
It was nicer for the neighbors to have them. Occasional benefit (fresh eggs) with none of the work (touching chickens, feeding chickens, cleaning pens, removing dead bodies, etc.)
Around here, we call them nimbys (not in my back yard)! Often, they are the same ones who put up MacMansions on postage stamp lots.
Okay. I’m through.
All I can do is try not to be a NIMBY. I’ll have to remember that word, Penny.
I suppose a front-yard garden in lieu of grass would cause the vapors.
Hahaha. Actually, those have caused some minor controversy, if they are food gardens rather than flowers.
It’s not only roosters who love to hear themselves cock-a-doodle-doing . . . especially about “those people.”
Very true, Nancy.
as Alice in Chains once sang, “Here they come to snuff the rooster”….of course Layne Staley was talking about heroin, but you get the point.
Arsenic Chickens is a terrible band name. I went on a cruise once. I can;t get that off my resume no matter what.
I’d happily take another cruise like the one I did to Alaska. It was the only way to really experience some of that landscape.
You know? I would to. I hear that’s amazing.
If you ever have a chance, do it. We both enjoyed it very much. The excursions included glacier hiking and whale watching and ocean kayaking, so it ended up being a very outdoorsy, active trip.
Tonight I watched 60 Minutes with a wonderful spot about mercy ships that provide medical aid along the coast of Africa. As we watched it I was struck by the tremendous needs of people, and thought about how petty and irritable those of us living in the land of plenty can be. I can understand your frustration–although you did make me laugh with the idea that anyone could be concerned with the rectal temperature of horses!
Oh, rectal temps are a BIG DEAL here, Debra, because the poor horses get too hot in summer. I’m not saying they don’t get too hot, but the people who raise the issue just want fewer carriages. They move into wealthy downtown neighborhoods and then get angry that tourists want to visit said neighborhoods. I say there are plenty of gated communities in the suburbs that people can live in if they want that sort of lifestyle, but don’t buy a house in a freaking historic neighborhood in Charleston if you don’t want tourists looking at your house. And, carriages riding down your street. And, people knocking on your front door asking to use the bathroom because you have opposed every effort by the city to put public bathrooms in your neighborhood because you fear that ‘bad people’ will hang around them at night. Not that you’d ever be caught dead close to one of said public bathrooms.
End of rant.
Excellent rant – stuff I so much agree with. The rooster made me laugh. There was a court case in France, about 10 years ago, when some residents of a town took against a rooster’s early morning wake up call. The rooster won the case. Vive la France.
Long live the rooster!
You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a real live rooster. Is that weird?
I am impressed there are people actually willing to talk about horse rectal temperatures who are not vets. They must be pretty desperate for their zoning.
It’s scintillating public discourse………