A somber visit

Following our visit to Powderhorn Park in Minneapolis, we decided to continue our drive to 38th and Chicago, the site where George Floyd was murdered and which has now become a memorial site.

We parked about a block away on a residential street bordering several small businesses. An auto repair shop, a laundromat, a deli, a barber shop. Necessities. No frills here in this low-income neighborhood.

And on the corner, Cup Foods, owned and operated by an immigrant family, where the deadly encounter occurred. Over eight minutes of agony, a knee snuffing out the breath of a human being. Needlessly and callously.

We were met at the start of the street by what I assume was a volunteer staffing a casual "welcome tent," set up to distribute free masks if you needed one, free water and hand sanitizer. We, of course, wore our masks and stayed an appropriate distance away from others. All were wearing masks, save for some of the block's locals.

Down the middle of the street, names of other Blacks killed by police were neatly printed in chalk.

The names continued on and on down the street, culminating in the name GEORGE FLOYD at the end.

I can't describe what we felt looking at those names, way too many of them. If anyone doubts that change needs to occur to end systemic racism, our own attitudes, and the prejudice and rush to judgment by some (emphasis: not all) members of the police force, you only need to walk down this street.

It's beyond belief that since this particular horrific event, others have happened and still continue to happen. There seems to be no end to the violence.

What will it take for it to stop?

Outside Cup Foods where the fatal encounter occurred.

Continuing our walk, it was relatively quiet at the end of the block outside the Cup Foods market, as those around us looked in disbelief at the curb on the corner and the flowers and plants strewn on the ground. There seemed to be no words.

Many, perhaps most, of the floral offerings are dead now but nevertheless there they stay, undisturbed from where they were placed.

Colorful murals and art were painted on the fronts and sides of the buildings on the block. Perhaps the only outlet for frustration and anger, short of more violence, that residents have to express their cries for justice is through their art.

Rather than writing more, I'm posting photos we took of the block as they will tell a better story and give you a sense of what it's like living in the shoes of residents in the poverty-stricken vicinity of 38th and Chicago.

As we were leaving, we saw this quiet young man with his sign, expressionless and looking a bit bored. I asked if I could take his picture and his face lit up. "Oh yes, please," he said as if we were doing him a favor. I love this picture.

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As always, thank you for reading and allowing me share my thoughts.