Different Colors and Creeds Side by Side
I DROVE DOWNTOWN NEAR THE RIALTO THE OTHER DAY AND WATCHED AS EXPANSIVE COURTS AND BOULEVARDS SLOWLY SHRUNK INTO CITY STREETS AND ALLEYWAYS; WHERE DESPITE NARROW PASSAGEWAYS, A COLORFUL BERTH OPENED BIG AND WIDE WITH THE ACCEPTANCE OF VARYING PIGMENTS OF SKIN. SOUTH CALHOUN STREET, IN PARTICULAR, IS SO DIVERSE AT TIMES THAT YOU COULD EASILY IMAGINE BEING PLACED IN SOME TYPE OF INCUBATOR FOR A CRASH COURSE IN CROSS CULTURAL AWARENESS. YOU SEE, FORT WAYNE JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE A RESETTLEMENT CITY FOR INTERNATIONAL REFUGEES, AND SO, EACH YEAR, HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE FROM DISTANT PLACES AND CONTINENTS FIND THEIR WAY HERE TO MAKE A HOME. THEY COME FROM BURMA, VIETNAM, LAOS, COLUMBIA, PERU AND VARIOUS AFRICAN AND EUROPEAN NATIONS. THEY RECEIVE AN AVERAGE OF $1,100 PER PERSON FROM THE U.S. GOVERNMENT, AND SOME INITIAL ASSISTANCE FOR THEIR FEW MONTHS HERE, AND AFTER THAT, THEY’RE ON THEIR OWN. MANY DON’T SPEAK ENGLISH AND ARE EVEN PRE-LITERATE IN THEIR NATIVE TONGUE. SOME, FROM TRIBAL CULTURES, MIGHT FEEL THEY’VE QUITE LITERALLY BEEN DROPPED OFF ONTO ANOTHER PLANET. THEY’RE CONFUSED BY CITY STREETS, AND NEON SIGNS, AND TRAFFIC AND THERMOSTATS AND TECHNOLOGY; NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT THEY’RE STILL STINGING FROM THE LOSS OF FAMILY MEMBERS AND SUFFERING FROM THE CAUSE OF THEIR REFUGEE STATUS, WHETHER IT WAS WAR OR FAMINE OR ETHNIC CLEANSING. AND SO, THE RECLAMATION PROJECT SIMPLY EXISTS TO OFFER FRIENDSHIP, LIFE SKILLS TRAINING, DIGNITY AND ADVOCACY. MANY OF THESE DEAR PEOPLE HAVE STARTED TO REBUILD THEIR LIFE RIGHT AROUND THE RIALTO, AND SO WE KEEP WORKING ON THAT CRAZY OLD PORN THEATER, DIFFERENT COLORS AND CREEDS SIDE BY SIDE; TO NOT ONLY ELEVATE ATTENTION TO THEIR NEEDS TODAY, BUT TO HOPEFULLY HOUSE ALL OF THESE EFFORTS WITHIN ITS WALLS TOMORROW. I CLIMBED UP ONTO THE ROOF OF THE RIALTO AND KNEELED BEHIND THE OLD BRICK PARAPET WALLS, LOOKING DOWN TOGETHER AT THE STREETS BELOW. WALKING SOUTH ON PONTIAC WERE TWO AFRICAN REFUGEES, FROM CHAD, BOTH OF WHOM HAVE HELPED REGULARLY WITH WORK DAYS AT THE RIALTO. I WAVED AT THEM AND THEY WAVED BACK WITH BEAUTIFUL SMILES OF HOPE AND RECOGNITION THAT LIT UP THE CORNER. JUST ACROSS THE STREET, AN ASIAN FAMILY WAS UNLOADING SUPPLIES TO TAKE INTO THEIR MARKET. JUST SOUTH, DOWN CALHOUN ONE BLOCK, AN AMBULANCE WAS TAKING AN HISPANIC MAN AWAY FROM A MEXICAN RESTAURANT, HIS LOVED ONES LOOKING ON WITH CONCERN. THE CITY WAS ALIVE AND VIBRANT, ITS RHYTHM RICH AND ITS BEAT RESOUNDING WITH CULTURE AND DIVERSITY, RIGHT HERE ON THE CORNER OF CALHOUN AND PONTIAC IN FORT WAYNE, INDIANA. I WAS FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE LOOKING DOWN UPON A MICROCOSM — A BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF MAYBE WHAT GOD INTENDED WHEN HE TOOK OUT HIS PALETTE AND HIS BRUSH AND HIS PAINTS, WITH EACH COLOR OFFERING UNIQUE TINTS AND SHADES AND BOLD SPLASHES OF RADIANCY — ON THEIR OWN, PERHAPS, OR MIXING, COMPLIMENTING ONE ANOTHER. FROM WHAT I KNOW OF THE COLOR OF MY SKIN, AND THE GOD WHO CREATED ME, THIS WHITISH, PEACHY, RUDDY EXTERIOR OF MY BODY WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO ACCENT ANOTHER HUE; NOT TO DOMINATE IT, BUT INSTEAD TO BLEED AND SATURATE INTO IT, TO OVERLAP AND BRING TEXTURE AND TONE AND, YES, BEAUTY IN THE VERY MOSAIC HARMONY THAT THE ARTIST INTENDED. THAT’S QUITE SIMPLY WHY THE CALL OF THIS CORNER NEVER FAILS TO REACH ME WAY OUT ON THE CORNER WHERE I LIVE, AS IT BECKONS ME FROM THE UNIFORMITY OF MY SAFE AND SOFT LAIR; IT’S NEARLY PALPABLE AT TIMES — HAUNTING EVEN — LIKE THE MYTHOLOGICAL SIREN’S VOICES. BUT, BY COMPARISON, WHAT INVITES ME AND WHAT AWAITS ME HERE IS ALWAYS GOOD AND PROMISING AND TRUE.
JEFF JACOBSON
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