Old Story New

The township of Alameda was born in the mid-nineteenth century on a peninsula, conjoined to Oakland by tidal wetlands. At the time, Oakland was busy becoming an industrial city, with its natural ports and commitment to railroads. San Franciscans built summer cottages on its oak-covered hills, which they cleared to better view their city across the bay, shrouded in fog. Meanwhile Alameda was building its first school and digging the estuary, not as a means of separating, but of connecting more fluidly with the surrounding communities.

These days the locals call the estuary “the moat,” and as such it serves as a means of limiting ingress to a few access points. Behind billboards and manicured hedges, at the ends of our bridges and the Posey Tube, idling cruisers stand in for noble steeds. The forces, mostly-white knights, are commissioned in the protection of island inhabitants’ riches and safety.

Although barely separated from each other geographically, modern Alameda and Oakland are worlds apart. Alameda has a village-feel, with orderly square yards, neatly filled by Victorian-era single-family homes. Utterly flat, the island barely rises out of the bay, making it an ideal community for the aged and mobility challenged. For hills, one must cast ones gaze to the east, where the hills of Oakland stretch from north to south. The various hills and dales define the neighborhoods of Oakland, with the wealthiest neighborhoods having most elevation. While the flatness of Alameda indicates an ease of living, “the flats” in Oakland are better known for their food deserts, drive by shootings, and street side bonfires, lit to destroy evidence in cars stolen from surrounding communities.

Where Alameda prides itself on pleasant simplicity (although, oddly, not on friendliness) Oakland roils with tumult, each day bringing a new protest or three to the City Center in the Downtown district. From the ashes of occupying camps, a thriving arts and restaurant scene has emerged. While Alameda vigilantly whites out defacing graffiti, Oakland embraces the Oaklandishness of it, embracing and owning its bad ass-ness, ’cause we hella love Oakland, y’all.

Like first cousins, these communities are close-knit, thrown together at holidays and for various comings and goings. They share certain sensibilities and a basic position of inferiority in the shadow of San Francisco, the most popular child in the extended family. It’s easy to love Alameda, with its matching socks and its hair parted straight down the middle. But when Oakland shows up wearing a funky screen-printed tee-shirt and holding a batch of fresh-from-the-oven pot brownies, we know who we want to sit next to when it’s time to carve the bird.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Old Story New

  1. Utterly brilliant! I will share with my students and my expository writing class! “With her hair parted down the middle!” Love!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s