Celebrating my second decade in Richmond, my new and bittersweet home

A quaint downtown railroad crossing in Greensboro, NC.

I visited a public health open house at University of North Carolina at Greensboro's Department of Community Health Education. I enjoyed walking through the city's downtown streets and then meeting the public health program's faculty and exploring the exciting public health opportunities that the future might hold. 

I followed the mysterious bubbles in the street to this shop.

Harsh realities of city life offer opportunities for optimism...

After the six armed robberies on a Monday evening in early October and the stabbing on Tuesday night (on/near the MCV campus), I was a bit discouraged about learning to appreciate life in Richmond (and envisioning an extended future here). As I cycled to school the following morning, I saw a man bending over to open up a flattened paper bag from BurgerKing. I’m not sure if he was looking for food or drugs, but my heart ached for the brokenness in whatever systems are involved that cause people to be so violent and unjust to one another. Richmond is proving to be hard to love as a home. However, similar themes are near and dear to any location...Later that day, my sister told me of a childhood friend couple that was processing a divorce because the husband had been seeing other women for at least a year while his wife busied herself with their toddler son and a college education. Although he had not reacted with any remorse, she was being blamed for ‘causing’ the situation in which her husband had an affair. Instead of support and sympathy, she received judgment. How unfortunate it is that we hurt not only those we’ve never met (homeless/criminals on the street) but also those who are nearest to us (family)?

Later that week, I attended a lecture by Rev. Ben Campbell, an Episcopalian priest, who analyzes such a situation in his book, Richmond’s Unhealed History. He suggests that there is a deeply moral and spiritual problem at play in the city: one of denial and hypocrisy. From the time that the first settlers erected a cross in the name of their English king until today, liberty has been juxtaposed with the bondage of others, just as more recent urban development entailed enclosing the city’s development complexes with six-lane highways that served the suburban middle class. All the while, Rev. Campbell explains, the repression of people creates bondage of denial and fear in the oppressor. We are not able to step into the future as a city (or even as authorities of a city) with hope if we are not willing to face the foundational brokenness on which this city has been built. Although I yearn to eventually relocate to a location that is small enough that I can influence these mutually exclusive ‘tiers of existence,’ I appreciated Rev. Campbell’s optimism in advocating to end “discrimination by transportation” by extending the public transportation down the main streets several miles to allow access to 80% of the jobs in the city (as opposed to the current 25% of jobs that are available via public transit).

I visited my parents for an early birthday celebration. My niece and nephew are growing too quickly!

It's great to get help blowing out your birthday candles from enthusiastic family members!

I accompanied my sister for a fall photo session before the storm (Hurricane Sandy) removed most of autumn's glory. The gang studies a flower-petal-filled fountain.

Yes, this is the fountain to which I was referring.

I only ride on the highways and the interstate on the weekends when I go shopping or to worship services but enjoy, even if only at these rare instances, keeping something edible in my car to offer to those that stand at the exits with signs like “need a little help” and “homeless and hungry,” among others. Many of the individuals’ faces speak much more accurately than the signs...others seem to have lost any expressive consciousness that would appropriate their cause. The times that I am fortunate to have something in my passenger seat to offer and a person to receive it, I have marveled at these people. Some explain that while most people think the homeless are dirty people, they shower daily by warming up water with a gas hot plate under the bridge (their residence). Others spill out an emotionless synopsis of their situation, how they became unemployed/homeless, to what violence they are subjected by their spouse/significant other or what they are doing to try to move from their situation. It has been most insightful and touching to hear the recipient say that they will share what I’ve given with “my girl-friend who’s standing across the street” or when I watch them walk off with my gift to a fellow vagrant (I use this descriptive term carefully and respectfully). I have heard of the homeless being very familiar with each other, often knowing each others’ bench or bridge, but I’ve never before witnessed such care extended by such needy. Not often observing similar acts of care in ‘the more fortunate circles,’ I feel honored to enter such a community, even if momentarily on the extending end. On the occasions that I pass one of these folks close to my home without something to offer, I resolve to return to the same place after fetching something from the house. More often than not, I return to a vacant bucket or a lonely cardboard sign on the ground, disappointed that my desire to help was not effected in time. In these cases, I’ve compared these evanescent beggars with angels, disappearing out of sight when I’ve not seized the initial opportunity to offer what I’ve set aside. Using a recently gifted (and growing) potato bread starter to bake sourdough bread, I realize that the two-loaf recipe is not at all inconvenient for this single Richmond-dweller. I hope to develop a tradition of Saturday morning bread-baking with the pleasant thought in mind that I may cross paths with someone who might welcome my extra loaf. I hope this habit will allow me to continually consider my discomfort with the realities of crime and poverty while still remaining optimistic towards each individual that appears on the side of my road.

Classes at VCU were canceled on Monday due to the storm...but it would be too much to ask Lyubov to stay put. I traveled back to Harrisonburg to finalize the purchase of my new interstate sidekick, a Nissan Versa.

As I headed back home on Monday afternoon, the scenic overlook between Waynesboro and Charlottesville still boasted Appalachian beauty, despite the dense fog that Hurricane Sandy brought.

This song challenges me to embrace bittersweet life in Richmond:

Jesus Christ is waiting, waiting in the streets;
no one is his neighbor, all alone he eats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I am lonely too.
Make me friend or stranger, fit to wait on you.

Jesus Christ is raging, raging in the streets,
where injustice spirals and real hope retreats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I am angry too.
In the kingdom's causes let me rage with you.

Jesus Christ is healing, healing in the streets;
curing those who suffer, touching those he greets.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I have pity too.
Let my care be active, healing just like you.

Jesus Christ is dancing, dancing in the streets,
where each sign of hatred he, with love, defeats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I should triumph too.
Where good conquers evil let me dance with you.

Jesus Christ is calling, calling in the streets,
"Who will join my journey? I will guide their feet."
Listen, Lord Jesus, let my fears be few.
Walk one step before me; I will follow you.

Text: John L. Bell and Graham Maule
Music: French traditional; harmonized by James E Clemens (2001)
(Song cited from Sing the Journey--Hymnal: a Worship Book Supplement 1. 2005.)


It's hard to believe that I've completed twenty years of life today. I've easily accepted the fact; now it's only a matter of recognizing what that means for tomorrow and beyond.

Hope you're staying warm during these last chilly and moist days of October : )