Those Greedy bastards
(In response to “Rags Amid Riches” by Karen Shugart, Oct. 24) I am living in an apartment off Park Road. The company that we have been paying our rent to for over five years has now sold out to some big condo company. The thing is, the company is beginning to push everyone out and doesn’t have the decency to tell us anything. We have to find out the hard way. They have started to tear down all the trees around us (and I mean all of them.) Also, they are renovating the empty apartments by tearing out the walls, with no regard for the people who still live in the building. Today, they even had a barbecue behind our building to try to sell off apartments to people who don’t even give a shit that there are people still living in there. How can these greedy bastards sleep at night knowing that they are basically throwing families out with no kind of idea where they will go or when? This city is so concerned with growing to accommodate the upper class. What about the people who have lived here for so long, who have paid taxes, and who regularly vote?
All of that seems so meaningless to the ones who have the money to just pick up and move at the drop of the hat. They are so quick to put us and our children out … I just don’t see how they can just be so cold-hearted. I wonder if they will wait right before the holidays to throw us out … it would fit the way we are being treated.
— Lori Aliane, Charlotte
A little bit country
Agree or disagree, I always enjoy John Grooms’ point of view in the Loaf.
This week’s column (Boomer With Attitude: “My Main Man, Porter Wagoner,” Nov. 14) resonated with me in particular. You think you’re conflicted? I am a 30-year-old black American female who grew up on The Commodores, Michael Jackson, Pat Benatar and Public Enemy … and I love country music. Sometimes I’m pumping the latest from Loretta or Reba as I pull up at a stoplight. I look around and realize the windows are open, I’m singing every word and the brother or sister beside me is shell shocked. Eh, Southern happens. But it is an internal identity crisis. As big a fan as I am, I’ve never been to a live show. I’d love to dance out at Coyote Joe’s, but I cannot reconcile the culture of country with my love for the music, so I don’t go. This Southernness is a twisted root — tasty but twined with quite a bit of nasty legacy that makes eating comfortably difficult.
Anyway, it was nice to hear I’m not the only one conflicted.
— Tressie McMillan, Charlotte
This article appears in Nov 21-27, 2007.
