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.
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.