My Baltimore--An Essay

As I walked out of the glass exterior office building and onto the red brick promenade, I could not feel the blowing wind but I knew the direction from which whatever wind there was had to be blowing—the southeast.  The smell of burning sugar in the air gave it away.  The Domino Sugar plant across the harbor from the Harbor East Legg Mason building was burning sugar, and the light breeze was carrying the odor across the harbor.  Of course, to smell the burning sugar, the day had to be one on which the harbor itself was not highly odiferous.  The impact of old industry and weather on life in the new, glitzy part of the harbor is part of my Baltimore. 

My mind drifts to how I know the direction of the wind…

The reason I know the red brick promenade and the direction to the Domino’s plant as well as I do is not just the direct view of both from my office.  The knowledge of the city’s muscle and arteries comes from dozens, if not hundreds, of runs on the promenade with numerous training partners.  Running from Canton past new residential buildings, old slips, old piers, refurbished buildings in Fells Point, the glamour of Harbor East, the aging Inner Harbor, the condos on the south side, the old industry represented by Domino’s, the new industry represented by Under Armour, the row houses in Locust Point, and the history of Fort McHenry.  Some weeks I experience bits and pieces that I cobble together in my mind to sense the whole path.  Other weeks, late in marathon training, I experience the entire promenade and surrounding streets on one run of fourteen to twenty miles.  All the pieces of those runs are a part of my Baltimore.   

I have run not just the promenade—but also Patterson Park, Brewer’s Hill, Lake Montebello, Druid Hill, Charles Village, Bolton Hill, Lake Walker, Guilford, Homeland, Lauraville, Roland Park, Hampden, Federal Hill, Mount Vernon, and many other neighborhoods of the city.  Sometimes on my own.  Sometimes drawn by the many runners I have met.  Running many neighborhoods during four Baltimore Marathons.  Twice alone.  Twice, pacing partners the whole way.  One of those two I will always remember for carrying a banana for more than 10 miles around the streets of Baltimore and my partner tossing her old watch.  Another year I will remember my partner for making it through but requiring immediate attention when we finished.  Every run etches more of the city and my fellow runners into my permanent memory.  The runners and the neighborhoods that I run through day after day are part of my Baltimore.

Runners are amazing people.  I know some runners through a local running store’s training group.  Those runners were great, down to earth, accepting and encouraging of every kind of runner.  Just the type of positive spirit I like to provide and find for myself.  Just being present for each other.  But most runners I run with now are people in Back on My Feet, or people I have met through runners in Back on My Feet.  This organization brings together people from the community with residents of facilities that help people reintegrate into the community.  The organization uses running and contact with community members to supplement facilities’ programs aimed at ending addiction and homelessness.  The amazing program brings people together from across different education levels, different socioeconomic status, and different areas of the city.  Everyone involved wants to see everyone else have a chance to be all they are meant to be to make the city all that it can be.  That attitude is a part of my Baltimore.

Runners are not the only ones I know who come together to help others.  The city is full of people who work at not-for-profit organizations who want to help others and people who live in neighborhoods and have invested their lives in the city and want to make it a better place.  Of course, it is not just not-for-profit organizations and volunteers from neighborhoods who help improve the city.  Many educators, innovators, and entrepreneurs want to help others through training, building new ideas, inspiring leading citizens, and economic development.  Creating opportunities and wealth not just for themselves but to build and rebuild community in a proud and strong city.  These people and motivations are a part of my Baltimore.

And then there are the artists.  People who find ways to represent what is around them.  Through words, drama, song, and visual representations.  Bringing out their interpretations of the city and the world.  Sharing their interpretations with others.  Letting the world ponder those interpretations.  With every bit of emotion and caring, love and hate, support and indifference, that represent the real feelings of real people that need to be expressed for others to see and for the world to grapple with.  The arts are a part of my Baltimore.

My Baltimore includes occasional trips into parts of the city that are considered dangerous.  My only behavior reflecting the challenges of safety is making sure I run my training partners home and text them if I have to go more than a block to my car.  I have been in some of those areas plenty of times.  Sometimes driving.  Sometimes running. Sometimes alone. Often with others.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore in which I can experience much of the city.  I have no illusion that I know or am close to more than a small fraction of the people.  But I do have an interest in learning about as many people and as many ways of living and as many pressures on living as I possibly can.  Like it or not—all of these areas are a part of my Baltimore.

My Baltimore is a vibrant combination of young and old; locals and relocators; Black and white; American and immigrant; different religions; different occupations; different educations; different opinions; different socioeconomic statuses; old industry and new money; artists, attorneys and educators; trains, shipping, and cars; and so many other variables.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of integrating all these.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of connecting across these.  My Baltimore is a Baltimore of finding other connectors so that together we can bring all sorts of people together to make the city the best it can be.

My Baltimore is a Baltimore of hope for a better Baltimore.  A Baltimore of light.  A Baltimore of hellos.  A Baltimore of welcomes.  Most of all, a Baltimore of sensing what is there and asking, “How can I use what I know about what is going on to make things better for myself and others?”  And as long as I have the energy and motivation to ask that question, I can help to make Baltimore a better place for me, those around me, my children and their children.

My mind returns to the reality of the promenade outside my building…

And it occurs to me that my Baltimore has had burning sugar in the air since long before I was born and will likely continue to have burning sugar in the air long after I’m gone.  I am like just one grain of sugar in a five pound bag.  But when a recipe that uses sugar from the Domino’s plant calls for a specific amount, each granule matters.  My contribution to Baltimore is just one of many—but with all the others can make the Baltimore I experience available to many more.