In the age of coffee filters and whole coffee beans, caffeinated mornings typically required calculated measuring and pouring, or the special artistry of a barista. Possibly even a scalding stain on a recently dry-cleaned shirt.
Sure, the project is over budget and behind schedule and the exact details of who’s going to run it remain in limbo, but today the Atlanta Streetcar project reached a construction milestone as the last track concrete was poured—at the intersection of Peachtree Street and Sweet Auburn.
Frank Mills’s home at 246 Main Street in the town of Toomsboro, forty miles east of Macon in Wilkinson County, is not for sale. This would not be particularly noteworthy if not for the fact that practically the entire town around this eighty-nine-year-old man is.
When the Braves announced their move to the burbs on Monday, there was plenty of vocal vitriol from ITPers. But there was surprisingly little celebrating, let alone gloating, from the people of Cobb County. That low grumble you heard instead was the angry muttering and collective unsettling of suburbanite stomachs of a tax base left to wonder where the hell Cobb’s share of the money for the new stadium was going to come from. And Cobb officials were saying nothing to salve the dyspepsia.
After East Atlanta Village resident Patrick Cotrona was [fatally shot last May], his sister Kate Cotrona Krumm drew attention to his case by posting a poignant hand-lettered sign on a telephone pole near the spot where her brother died. Block letters on a big sheet of cardboard paid tribute to a “brother and a kind and loving son and uncle and friend.” On Thursday afternoon, Krumm unveiled another sign—a massive billboard advertising a $25,000 reward for tips leading to the arrest of two people suspected in the death of her brother.
About a month ago, my neighbor’s Jeep Cherokee was stolen. In the annals of city crime, this is hardly a noteworthy theft. Except that I live in a gated loft development with on-site security. And that said Jeep then was used in an attempted burglary; apparently such twin misdeeds—stealing SUVs and using them to haul off stolen stuff—are a trend this summer, according to the cops who responded to my neighbor's complaint. Also, I should mention it was the second time this particular Jeep has been swiped and that a couple months ago someone was carjacked at gunpoint in the same gated lot.
As its name suggests, the Center for Civil and Human Rights, which opens to the public on Monday, is about two struggles—the American one that was fought primarily in the South in the latter half of the twentieth century, and the worldwide one that involves oppressed peoples in distant (and not-so-distant) lands. While there’s an obvious thematic linkage between the American Civil Rights Movement and the broader human rights one, the line between them must have been a challenge for the Center’s designers to straddle. One has a built-in narrative, with a beginning and middle (if not yet an ending), and the other requires navigating the vast space beneath the human rights umbrella, whether it’s oppressed women in Africa, child laborers in Pakistan, or tortured activists in Burma.