Pitching A Tent And A Golden Arch In The City Of Homes

Saint John said, Jesus “pitched his tent among us” (John 1:14).

While the eyes of the nation were attempting to fathom the civic mysteries beneath the caring and rebellious demos camped in tents at Zuccotti Park— a 33,000 square foot hybrid space spawned originally from a public/private partnership between New York City government and United States Steel—a micro posse of Lakewood homies and out of town day-trippers assembled at Post-Sinagra Park on October 29th to protest the corporate takeover of living things and to express support for the humane harmonic of the Occupation Movement.

In the most densely populated city between New York and Chicago, the only tent on site was one made from ether and conversations about cheerful giving that honored Saint Paul, whose church on Detroit Avenue was recently demolished to make way for a CVS Pharmacy.

The demolition of Saint Paul Lutheran Church and the closing of Saint James Roman Catholic Church have precariously put the Bread of Angels in short supply on Lakewood’s Detroit Avenue Chow Line, where the relocation of McDonald’s from Sloane Avenue compelled a neighborhood protest on November 2. In truth, the protest against McDonald’s was far larger than the one assembled for Occupy Lakewood on October 29.

To be sure, Lakewood is hungry. Only there’s no hidden manna in a “Happy Meal.”

“I’m not loving it!” chanted residents who took to the streets at Detroit and Woodward Avenues, unhappy about the fast food drive-thru mayhem that will soon be unleashed in their neighborhood from this particular economic development.  

From the death of a movie house to the demolition of houses of worship, from the corporate colonization of the Detroit Avenue Chow Line to the de-Christening of the Lakewood Christian Service Center, apocalyptic signs of wreckage and specters of refuse are haunting the city of homes, whose residents can only half-heartedly hope through elected officials that their dispossessions might super-size future investment.     

“In every monetary transaction, wholesale and retail, Christ is re-crucified,” says James Buchan in Frozen Desire: An Inquiry Into the Meaning of Money (1997).

Many were called to connect the dots of dispossession and economic development at Occupy Lakewood. Understandably, however, few cared to be chosen by name and face for the self-organizing fray and media afterglow that alter consciousness and make history. Ostensibly their desire was frozen by fearful necessity to remain gainfully employed and to appease with alienated sacrifice the almighty job creator.   

As providence delivered subtle bonds of solidarity on a chilly Saturday morning in Post-Sinagra Park, improbable persons—one with debts, one with dreams, one with protest signs, one with Bosh pears, and one with a Betty Boop costume—managed to assemble over a span of 8 hours for Occupy Lakewood.

At around 8:30 a.m. a twenty-something African American man was the first to join the assembly. He broke out his meds and washed them down with a swig of Mountain Dew. Unemployed, he needed $45 in order to take a GED test. His mother couldn’t believe the excessive price that was demanded for a GED test, especially from someone with her son’s record of good grades and study. He claimed an I.Q. of 135 and professed no doubt that he could pass the test, get on with his life, find a job, and drive a Jaguar with chrome wheels someday. 

A woman in a Cleveland Browns hoodie spoke about putting an end to greed and the corporate control of politicians. “I’m just sick of it,” she complained.

A father—whose son fought in Iraq and is now home and unemployed—spoke about the waste of money, the failure of war, and the need to change things for young people who are struggling without jobs. “My anti-war rants on Facebook got me red-flagged,” he confessed.

Another unemployed GED student, a Puerto Rican lad from Elyria who came to Lakewood to study with his step-mother, listened intently to a wise woman provide an explanation of economic injustice that doesn’t blame the victim, something he had never heard before in his life. “Mom, they’re teaching me how the system works,” he declared over his cell phone.

A Cleveland punk musician, trying to square a life of “funemployment” with a $40,000 stake in student loan debt peonage that compounds at 7%, crafted from the perfumed substance of his own soul a protest sign that read: “The Bankers Got a Bail Out and All I Got Was Free Mumia.”

Alternative media arrived with Liberation Brew TV’s Sam Phillips fully equipped with video recorder and ever-ready to document perspectives at Occupy Lakewood. His Liberation Brew TV documentary, “Occupy Lakewood,” can be viewed on YouTube along with many salient captures from Occupy Cleveland.   

At 11 a.m. the small Occupy Lakewood entourage became concerned that the expected table of information ambassadors from Occupy Cleveland had not yet arrived. The group headed downtown to the information tent for Occupy Cleveland.

The man occupying the information tent did not know why the expected table and information ambassadors from Occupy Cleveland had not yet materialized in Lakewood.

He offered that “Lakewood’s Mayor had invited Occupy Cleveland to come to Lakewood. He encouraged us to come.”  When asked if he had spoken directly to Mayor Summers, the man in the tent responded, “That’s what I heard.”  

Lakewood is cool, so the story goes, with hearts of gold pumping love for its Occupy Cleveland neighbors. However, an invitation from Mayor Summers to pitch tents in the Wood seemed a little far-fetched. Hearsay about links in the chain between the Occupy Movement and Lakewood’s Mayor is, of course, worthy of down in the weeds verification.

“I have not had any direct communication with this group. Someone called two weeks ago and spoke with Luann Baker, the Administrative Assistant in the mayor's office,” explained Mayor Summers in an email. “They inquired as to whether Occupy Cleveland could pass out information in Lakewood. After confirming their First Amendment rights to do so, I welcomed them to pass out their information. Other than this communication, I have had no other contact.”

Like so many Americans concerned against growing inequality, Mayor Summers claims to be “sympathetic to their movement.” “The growing income gap worries me mightily.”