From what I can gather, there wasn’t much damage, at least not what I could see. The river was running, but not raging. The lasting effects of the storm [...]]]>

Image courtesy Dan B.

I used an errand after work as an excuse to go for an extended run and check out the flood damage in Troy’s North Central neighborhood.

From what I can gather, there wasn’t much damage, at least not what I could see. The river was running, but not raging. The lasting effects of the storm may be more psychological than physical. Like so many others, we’ve viewed disastrous floods from a distance. This detachment kept us ill-prepared to deal with the possibility of being one of those towns that becomes stock footage during televised coverage of weather-related disasters.

Other areas, particularly those in the Catskills and Vermont, weren’t so lucky.

Still, it reminded us that the Hudson is more than a body of water that we pass over to get to or from work or the mall. Anthropomorphic qualities are given to rivers in literature and historical texts, but mostly only in terms of its economic, social, and cultural relevance. We forget that the river can be a living, breathing thing in and of itself. It can swell and lash out when stretched beyond its limits. Too much stress and agitation, and it has a tantrum that slowly builds and culminates in an all-out rampage. We pass over it effortlessly every day, but at its absolute (and thankfully very rare) worst moments, it can take everything away from us: our homes, our commerce, our sense of security, our means of escape, and in two tragic cases so far, our actual lives. Again, though, the damage was nowhere near as bad as it could have been, and for that we are lucky.

Running along River Street, I encountered the occasional empty lot that allowed a peek at the river. It was still running a bit wild and slightly high, but nowhere near where it was on Sunday and Monday. On my way back I hit the intersection at 101st St., where Second Avenue once again becomes River Street, and entered the empty parking lot of a community center, which gave me an opportunity to get closer to the River than anywhere else on my route. I walked near, then into, the area where the river had reached its peak, nowhere near any property that I could see. The grass was still there, green as it ever was, possibly greener.

After my errands ended, I continued South until I reached the Riverfront. The crowds that gathered during the flood itself to survey the damage had dissipated, but there was still teaming and buzzing. People from all walks of life wandered through the parking lot of Dinosaur Barbecue and Riverfront Park. Some sat on benches, staring outwardly, and clearly had been there for some time. In the street behind them, Cars and buses drove by, kicking up dust behind them from the dried mud left by the Hudson’s surge. It was the most activity I’d seen there in years.

It was a surreal but hopeful scene. Most, including myself, had gone to gauge the destruction and devastation that had been wrought. Though I can only speak for myself, it seems we didn’t get quite as much of it as we had anticipated. Yet this didn’t seem to bring about any disappointment, but rather gave people an opportunity to mill about and gaze at the Hudson without the sense of dread and the heavy thought of “where do we even start” that is likely weighing down folks in surrounding areas.

Though still dark brown with upturned Earth and littered with debris, the Hudson was a sight to behold on tuesday night. As I joined these strangers in staring out, it occurred to me that maybe – just maybe – an event such as this can be used to reinvigorate or even instill a greater appreciation for the Riverfront.

By the time I got downtown, the water had receded. But I didn’t see the river going down. Instead, I saw Troy rising.
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Plenty of areas were hit much harder than us in these floods and could use our help. Here’s an incomplete list of where you can go for more information.

Also, if you’re healthy and haven’t had a tattoo done in the last calendar year, the American Red Cross will have a blood drive on RPI’s campus at the Mueller Center, right on 15th Street in Troy until 5:30pm.

Yesterday I was out on a morning run (I actually did two days in a row; someone get Rex Smith on the horn and tell him we need an evening edition printed) when I was flagged down by someone that [...]]]> One thing I’m always struck by is the generosity of friends, acquaintances, and outright strangers.

Yesterday I was out on a morning run (I actually did two days in a row; someone get Rex Smith on the horn and tell him we need an evening edition printed) when I was flagged down by someone that lived around the corner from me. He mentioned that he had talked to my next door neighbor and found out that my bike had been stolen off my porch two weeks ago. This man, whose only association with me is that his wife also works for RPI (but doesn’t work in the same part of campus as me let alone with me), said that he had a couple bikes and offered me one of them on the spot.

I was legitimately taken aback by the offer.

What’s more, I had to politely decline because my roommate had already given me one that he had: a bike that he and/or someone in his family easily could have sold for some decent change. Instead, without a thought, they offered it to me.

A month ago, someone ripped my bicycle off the railings of our front porch and carried it off with them. In the time since, through word of mouth, I have had nothing but offers of replacements that have reinforced a belief and outlook I’ve adopted in the last five years: that for every person that would deprive you of happiness, there are tenfold more that would step in to try to help in some manner.

One Christmas, before I was born, the presents my parents bought for their children were stolen out of their car. Then, in a scene ripped out of the cheesiest ABC Family made for television Christmas movie, friends and strangers that lived with us in the projects (a place called Griswold Heights) came together and surprised my parents with replacement gifts for all their kids.

Instances of generosity and kindness far outnumber those of selfishness. Unfortunately, it’s the latter that hits us the hardest. But if we allow ourselves to appreciate the other moments and give them equal weight and consideration, we’ll be surprised at how much good there really is in this world.

I’m seeing it, too, in the outpouring of support that all you readers have shown for Special Olympics of New York through my fundraising efforts for the Over the Edge event. I thank all who have given and all that will give in the coming weeks. If you haven’t yet, check out the page I put together: it explains what we’re doing, has a list of incentives for giving, and more. Even as little as $5 or $10 goes a long way towards providing services for the more than 47,000 differently abled athletes and their families.

So to Jackie’s husband, to my roommate, to my friends, to those folks in Griswold Heights (some of whom are no longer with us), and to all of you reading: on behalf of the human race, thank you for making us all a little richer.

Tonight is the last Friday of the month, which means it’s time for Troy Night Out, the Collar City’s monthly celebration of art, culture, and night life in our city. Visit TroyNightOut.org for a full list of the festivities, and ride the trolley through the city!

I’ll be [...]]]> If you give, that is.

Tonight is the last Friday of the month, which means it’s time for Troy Night Out, the Collar City’s monthly celebration of art, culture, and night life in our city. Visit TroyNightOut.org for a full list of the festivities, and ride the trolley through the city!

I’ll be out and about from 5:00pm onwards. If you find me before 8:30pm and make a donation of $10 in cash to the Special Olympics of NY, I will perform one of the following dances for you, your choice:

• A jig
• The running man
• That MC Hammer dance where he puts his hands on his hips and just goes back and forth all crazy-like

Please note that I don’t say I’ll do these well, just that I’ll do them.

This is another installment of my ongoing effort to raise money for Special Olympics of NY through the Over the Edge fundraiser. So far you people have given generously, but there’s still much more that’s needed! Special Olympics of NY provides services to more than 47,000 differently abled kids and their families throughout the State. It’s a worthy cause, so why not humiliate me?

For information on how you can donate online (as well as other incentives for giving including baked goods from one of my teammates), visit the sub-site at KevinMarshallOnline.com.

The people behind Albany Alive want to extend their services to the Collar City. And appropriately enough – despite prevailing cynicism from shut-ins and out-of-towners, in the last decade the city has seen a slow by steady revival in its economy [...]]]> This Wednesday is the launch party for Troy Alive, and you’re all invited!

The people behind Albany Alive want to extend their services to the Collar City. And appropriately enough – despite prevailing cynicism from shut-ins and out-of-towners, in the last decade the city has seen a slow by steady revival in its economy and nightlife. It’s only appropriate that it has its own version of Albany’s premiere event promotion company.

It all goes down this Wednesday, June 1st starting at 6:00pm at Revolution Hall. The event will feature a red carpet – the longest ever in Upstate New York – and will also feature a performance by Rich Ortiz and food provided by Brown’s Brewing Company. Plus, local treasure KEVIN MARSHALL will be in attendance along with several other area notables!

Donations for the Troy Boys & Girls Club will also be collected at the event.

For more info on the event, click here and also be sure to follow Troy Alive on Twitter.

Hope to see you there!

Still, I consider it a sister city to my hometown of Troy in spirit and circumstance. Like Troy at the turn of the century, New Castle was a bustling [...]]]>

Image by angus mcdiarmid via Flickr

It takes about eight hours on I-90 West to get to New Castle, Pennsylvania. I’ve never been.

Still, I consider it a sister city to my hometown of Troy in spirit and circumstance. Like Troy at the turn of the century, New Castle was a bustling city littered with mills, factories, and opportunities for the blue collar class. As the Industrial Revolution came to a grinding halt and the Great Depression dramatically altered the economic landscape of the entire country, New Castle saw its resources dry up and its population move elsewhere. It, too, is a city that fighting to find and  establish a new identity. It is a part of America that has been forgotten by political rhetoric in the 21st Century. Cities like Troy and New Castle are not Middle America or “the Real America,” yet despite their invisibility to folks running for any office at the state level or higher, their socio-economic vulnerabilty make them an accurate barometer of the nation.

Though really none of that matters, because the most interesting aspects of these cities are the stories of the individuals who live, breathe, and die on its streets with no greater concern than what’s going to get them through the next week.

Small Town Noir  is a blog project launched by Diarmid Mogg in July of 2009. After the New Castle police discarded mug shots taken from the turn of the century up to the tail end of the 1950s, Mogg retrieved them from the trash and began researching each and every individual through various stories, tidbits and blurbs from the archives of the town’s newspaper, The New Castle News.

The result  is a series of remarkable and astounding journies of residents convicted of everything from public drunkenness to armed robbery. What makes it so remarkable, though, are the extra details gleaned from unrelated stories on the same persons, which in many cases tell us where life took them after the unfortunate circumstances and misdeeds that culminated in the discarded photographs.

To focus merely on its unique concept would be a disservice to its execution. Mogg is also a fantastic writer who lends heart and depth to the stories of these individuals through his prose.  Seeing them  at their most fragile, hitting their own personal bottoms, brings a familiarity that carries even when information is scant and makes it seem as if they walked out of camera shot and continued straight through until they hit the edge of the planet Earth and walked off.

Small Town Noir is one of those rare, refreshing realizations of the true potential of the internet and blogs as a medium. If there could ever be such a thing as “required reading” amongst a sea of RSS feeds, this should be included.