Tag: Jen Clarke

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Opinion The Last Word

Make MATA Free: Improve the Lives of Thousands of Memphians

(CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks)

Last spring I found myself in a position of unimaginable privilege. For the first time in my adult life, I had a car that worked and was paid off. No weird rattles, squeaking brakes, bald tires. I hate the term “adulting” for philosophical reasons, but it was one of those times in my life that made me think “so this is what it’s like.”

Then I started anticipating the inevitable break-in, wreck, or other misfortune that would set me back again and put me in my cosmic place. “Just watch,” I’d say. “Something’s going to fall out of the sky and land on my car because I don’t deserve this.”

A month later, as a chunk of road debris hurtled toward my windshield on I-40, I thought, “Well, there it is.”

Justin Fox Burks

What’s the MATA?

The damage turned out to be minor, but being virtually carless for a couple weeks reminded me how difficult it is to thrive in Memphis without a vehicle. My home and my office are two miles apart, putting me on the road a grand total of 10 minutes a day. I know I have it easy. But I tried to plot a bus route home from work and MATA’s trip planner told me “LOL, walk” — which I did, a couple times. And let me tell you, it sucked! If that’s more optimal than the bus, we’ve got a problem with the bus.

I can shrug and catch an Uber, but someone who has to schlep across town for a $7.25-an-hour job does not have that luxury. The bus ride from Whitehaven to Downtown takes about an hour one-way, not including the wait. Anyone who doesn’t have access to a car has their opportunities limited by the number of hours in a day. I’m heartened by the county mayor’s commitment to transit equity, and I’d love to see MATA viewed less as the nuisance in the right lane on Poplar and more as a reliable way to get around. Improving and expanding service are obviously high priorities for increasing ridership, but there’s one more way to get people to hop on.

The New York Times last month published a story about a growing trend in cities that have seen bus ridership increase up to 60 percent. All they had to do was waive the fare. Should Memphis try something similar? Yes, it sounds counterintuitive, as the city and county look to infuse more money into MATA, not less. But public transportation can’t work unless it’s an option for everyone, versus the only option for some. There are two ways to do that: Make it convenient, and make it affordable. $1.75 a ride seems affordable, until you factor in the time investment and the fact that $70 a month does not fit everyone’s definition of “affordable.”

“Oh, but who will pay for it?” Let’s just get this out of the way: the same people who pay for every other public good. I have little patience for those who bristle at paying for services they don’t use, as if we could allocate our taxes to the projects we care about. I don’t have kids, and my house hasn’t burned down yet, but here I am, still dutifully paying for schools and the fire department. If you live in Cordova and have never seen a bus, I’m sorry to hear it — but you chose the Germantown Parkway lifestyle, friend. And you’re contributing to the road congestion and pollution that better public transit would solve.

Actually, that makes a pretty good case for a toll. How about, say, $1.75 each way for commuters on 240 and 385? While cities that waived bus fares saw an increase in ridership, they didn’t see a decrease in the number of cars on the road. This is because people who ride the bus generally don’t have cars. Such is the case in Memphis, where bus riders typically live in poorer neighborhoods. Why should they pay to be part of the solution?

In addition to the wheel tax the county commission is considering, there are other car-centric ways to fund free transit. On any given day in Midtown, the city could make a boatload ticketing cars parked illegally on the street — too close to the corner, in no-parking zones, in front of fire hydrants. Maybe some incentives could encourage businesses to dig in and support a transit fund. Who knows? It’s not impossible to make transportation a right, not a privilege.

Jen Clarke is a digital marketing specialist and an unapologetic Memphian.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Peabody Place? Fill ‘Er Up!

It’s not going to be an aquarium and tropical bird sanctuary, much to my chagrin.

It’s not going to be a fancy grocery store with old-world wines, grab-and-go lunches, and myriad unpronounceable cheeses, unfortunately.

Or a Target. Damn it.

Know what else Peabody Place isn’t going to be? An empty building.

And that right there is enough of a reason for any Memphian to celebrate.

When Peabody Place opened, it was the coolest thing going. Well, to me at least: I was fresh out of high school and enjoying what little freedom is available to an 18-year-old still living at home in Collierville. I’d trek out there with a few friends, and we’d, well … I guess you could say we did a lot of loitering, come to think of it.

We might catch a movie at the Muvico. Sometimes we’d bowl or play video games at Jillian’s and split a burger and fries. We’d bypass the Gap and Victoria’s Secret — there were locations much closer to home — to pass hours in Tower Records. We’d read the imported magazines, sample new CDs, and thumb through the bargain DVDs, but rarely did we walk out of there with a yellow bag.

In other words, I’m probably part of the reason the whole thing failed. Sorry. Could the property have been salvaged as a retail concept if not for the recession? Looking at the condition of other malls in the city and elsewhere across the country, I wouldn’t put my eggs in that basket.

So what do you do with 300,000-square-feet smack in the middle of downtown Memphis? You bring in one of the city’s biggest companies and its 1,200 employees and you set off a ripple that can transform the area forever, that’s what.

Y’all. I don’t mean to devalue the impact of ServiceMaster’s decision merely to stay in Memphis. Their departure could have been disastrous for the city, and I’m glad that out of the 10 to 13 cities they considered, the one they chose was “home.” But I haven’t been this excited about Peabody Place since I was old enough to order my first drink at Club Atlas.

I know it’ll be a while before they move in, but I am ready to roll out the red carpet for ServiceMaster right this moment. I don’t mind that a thousand more vehicles on I-240 will probably slow down my morning commute. I can accept a longer wait in the food truck lines at Court Square on Thursdays. Construction might gunk up Second and Third streets, but it’s a small price to pay for the luxury of not having an abandoned mall in the center of all the action.

I’m hoping ServiceMaster’s arrival inspires a little restaurant boom. (Sidenote: There are a few spots for lease on Madison, so if you have an idea and a few grand lying around, you should get to work, ASAP.) But in any case, I welcome all 1,200 employees to discover the best lunch spots (three tacos for $8 at Maciel’s, thank me later); the best wifi-enabled places to escape the office; the joy of an afternoon cheesecake break at the Peabody Hotel deli.

Bring ’em on. There’s plenty of room. Because downtowns are supposed to be busy. Bring the jobs, and the people follow. Provide those people amenities, services, things to do, places to live. Then come visitors who want a piece of the action — they’ll need a place to stay. Yeah, I’m oversimplifying things a little — but that’s the recipe.

I’ve worked downtown for a decade, and so much has improved these past few years. We’ve been fortunate the improvements have not come at the expense of the history in our buildings: the U of M law school is one particularly gorgeous example. Hopefully, the Tennessee Brewery will be another. The Chisca connects the core and South Main so seamlessly I’ve honestly forgotten what it was like before. Just think — in a few years we’ll have forgotten what it was like to walk, cringing, past that abandoned mall.

But for every Chisca, there’s still a Sterick lurking on the skyline. There are still too many empty storefronts and not enough hotel rooms. The trolleys and public transportation in general seem to be in a perpetual state of “TBD.” But the gaps are filling in, slowly but surely. ServiceMaster is filling a massive one.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and digital marketing strategist.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Gifted: Haunted by the ghosts of Christmas debacles past.

CREDIT: Kuvona | Dreamstime.com

I wish I loved Christmas more. It should be easy, right? What’s not to love about parties and gifts, food and booze — a shortlist of my favorite things? The problem is, the holiday just doesn’t seem to love me back. I’m no good at Christmasing. Let’s just say I’m not my best self this time of year.

When I was in third grade, I sang in the children’s choir at church. It must have been open to all kids regardless of talent, because my singing voice is Roseanne-Barr-singing-the-national-anthem bad and always has been. As with ballet, baton, piano lessons, and every other activity, I suspect it was just another excuse for my parents to get me out of the house for a few hours. Well, I sure showed them.

We were scheduled to sing at Christmas Eve Mass. At the end of rehearsal a few days before the service, the director addressed the entire group.

“Please remember to wear your church clothes, and not the costume you wore in the program. Do you understand? Do not wear your costume. Wear what you would normally wear to Christmas Mass. Everyone nod, so I know you’re paying attention.”

“What are you supposed to wear for church?” my mother asked me the night before the Mass.

To this day, my response is more of a mystery than how the virgin Mary became pregnant. “I think we’re supposed to wear our costumes,” I said.

I deserved what happened next.

“Oh yeah. She did say that,” I thought to myself as the director explained to my mom that she had very clearly and adamantly told us what to wear.

In my defense, she should have sent a note home to the parents. These were elementary school kids! Forget that I was the only one in the group who could not be trusted to relay the message.

There wasn’t enough time to go home and change. I ditched the halo headband, but the wings were not detachable. I had my very first “walk of shame” at age 8 as I cried in the line to get Communion. At least I was small for my age, so I could pass for a younger kid. Hard to believe I was a “gifted” child, huh?

That was the beginning of a long legacy of Christmas debacles, which also includes nearly ruining Santa for multiple children, countless awkward company parties, and a lengthy unlucky streak in white-elephant gift exchanges.

I’ve seen one white Christmas in Memphis, and I’ll only remember it because I face-planted on the sidewalk in front of a Cooper-Young bar … while sober. This weekend I’ll be wrapping gifts for charity, so I’m really looking forward to seeing how I manage to humiliate myself there, too.

Also harshing my Christmas cheer is my tendency to buy all Christmas gifts at the last possible moment. I’m no procrastinator — I just utterly and completely lack impulse control when it comes to shopping. I don’t observe many traditions, but I do this one thing every year where I spend the entire holiday shopping season lavishing myself with discounted merchandise instead of buying gifts.

I blame email marketing. It’s the same thing every morning when I open my Gmail account: “Whoa. Extra 30 percent off sale items at Madewell? Let me see if they have anything for, um, my cat.” Now the cat has two new sweaters, a pair of jeans, and a dress. But he really needed that stuff. For winter. Because it’s so cold in Memphis right now.

I bought two pairs of earrings on Black Friday and put them in my own stocking. If that wasn’t sick enough, I almost took out a pair to wear to a holiday party and had to talk myself out of it using the same kind of language they use on Intervention.

Kuvona | Dreamstime.com

Right now, as I write this, I have purchased a grand total of three items to give as gifts. I will undoubtedly be spending part of Christmas Eve in the Oak Court Mall parking lot cussing and crying and the rest pacing the front porch on the lookout for an 11th-hour Amazon Prime shipment. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the free pizza cards I stole from my husband’s wallet. Or whatever gift cards Walgreens has left. Or maybe I can part with one of those pairs of earrings.

Good luck to my family and friends. I’m sure whatever I come up with will be great.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and digital marketing strategist.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

How to Grieve Correctly

November is supposed to be a time of gratitude, when we gather round and reflect on all the good things and people in our lives. But in the wake of last week’s tragedy in Paris, plus the recent loss of a friend, I’ve spent a lot of time pondering grief. How do I process these emotions, and how do I respond? How can I help others find comfort in painful situations? How can I best serve the memory of those who are gone?

These are questions we can answer only for ourselves. And, apparently, our Facebook friends.

Last Friday afternoon, as we watched the horrific events in Paris unfold, the social media reaction came in waves. First came the photos of friends in front of the Eiffel Tower, sharing their concern and offering their prayers. Then, the blue, white, and red profile photos.

Outward expressions of sympathy and support are perfectly acceptable responses! Anger, confusion, and frustration are understandable as well. But what came next troubled me. I’m not talking about the Obama-blamers or Donald Trump’s shock-value pander-babble or the “bomb ’em all” crowd. I am used to all that. No, it’s the Grief Police that have convinced me that the Internet has made monsters of us all.

“Where was the outrage over (insert other issue here)?” “Why is there no flag for (insert country here)?” “What is France going to do with your thoughts and prayers?” “Do you people really think changing your profile picture is going to do anything?”

It can be a burden, but it is possible to care about more than one thing at a time. There is a veritable cornucopia of issues to lose sleep over. I usually am outraged about at least three different things, and that’s on a good day. I’m sure most of France appreciates the thoughts, prayers, and gestures. I doubt anyone at ISIS headquarters has decided to give up the terrorist life after logging in to Facebook and seeing the shows of solidarité. All of this is beside the point, which is: Don’t tell people how to be sad.

Grief is a process that all of us approach differently. There are healthy approaches, but there is no single correct approach.

Of course, that did not stop me from considering whether I should change my Facebook picture, lest anyone suspect me of being unsympathetic. Because if something terrible happens and you don’t post about it on the Internet, how will anyone know you care?

How did we grieve before Facebook and Twitter? Where did we offer our #ThoughtsAndPrayers in times of tragedy? Is wearing black the analog version of a changed profile picture or a pithy meme? And how on Earth were we able to judge others when we perceived them to be processing their sadness in the “wrong” manner? Is this brand of shaming a new phenomenon like Tinder and selfie sticks? Or has it been happening all along, just in beauty parlors and sewing circles and Letters to the Editor?

Social media provides a space for people to grieve together in spite of physical distance. Seeing and sharing anecdotes and photos and well-wishes can be therapeutic. Or it can be overwhelming. It might be #toosoon. It might fill you with regret or remorse or sometimes even resentment. But that’s your response. We all have emotional baggage, but the contents vary. Each of us carries our baggage in our own way.

There is so much ugliness in the world. And we’re exposed to so much more of it thanks to the myriad technologies we have at our fingertips. Let’s not compound it by being assholes to each other on the Internet when people are hurting. There’s not a whole lot we can control, but one thing we can control is the way we treat others.

Be thankful for that.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and digital marketing strategist.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

My Choice for Memphis Mayor

CREDIT: Larry Kuzniewski

Larry Kuzniewski

Justin Fuente

Early voting has begun, and I’ve made my choice for the next mayor of Memphis.

My pick for mayor is an up-and-comer who loves a challenge. What some might call “the worst job in the country,” he calls an opportunity.
He balances a lot of responsibilities at his current high-pressure job. But he manages and delegates effectively. He and a few assistants oversee a team of about 90 people, most of whom are only high school-educated.

He hasn’t been in Memphis long, but his outsider perspective means he’s not cynical and defeatist.

He’s not above working on weekends – in fact, he lives for a Saturday at the office.

Sorry A C, Jim, Mike, and Harold. Maybe next time, Mongo. There’s one man who has shown he has the guts, vision, and leadership to tackle seemingly insurmountable odds and effect real, positive change.

His name is Justin Fuente. He coaches the University of Memphis football team.

I know what you’re probably thinking, and, at first, I didn’t believe in him either. I even called him “another ‘who’ hire instead of a ‘wow'” the day it was announced he’d been selected to coach my alma mater’s embarrassment of a football team. I don’t remember whom I preferred at the time, or why I even thought anyone else would be crazy enough to take the job, but I will happily admit I was wrong. With the success Fuente has had here, I’m more inclined to call him a genius or a wizard than a coach. If he can fix Memphis football, let’s see what else he can do.

If Coach Fuente can transform the Memphis football program from trolley fire to conference champion in just three seasons, I’d like to see what he can do for Memphis Animal Services. Did you see that reverse flea-flicker Paxton Lynch threw Saturday at Bowling Green? That demonstrates that Fuente’s not scared to get creative and make bold decisions, a strength I would like to see him apply in addressing the city’s issues with blight.

We talk about attracting and retaining talent to the city, and so far he seems to have done a pretty good job with that. Just imagine the positive attention the city will get if Memphis beats Ole Miss this season. If that happens, we should bypass the mayor thing and crown him King of Memphis for life eternal so he never moves on to a “bigger” job. What better gig is there than king?

I’m sure he’d decline, deflecting the praise onto his players and assistant coaches. But it would backfire, because that kind of humility is another leadership quality that would make him a perfect mayor and/or king of the city. Shoot, bring the staff along too. City Council, start packing your things. I’d offer the players something too, but I’d hate for some NCAA violations to interfere with these good-time feelings in Tiger Nation.  

Former U of M athletic director R.C. Johnson used to say “It’s a great day to be a Tiger,” and it made me cringe every time. But we can finally say without irony that these are halcyon days indeed for Your Memphis Tigers, who have started the season 3-0 for the first time since 2004. That means they’re already halfway to bowl eligibility for the second year in a row, with a  fairly friendly schedule ahead. They’ve won 10 straight games for the first time since Kennedy was president. That’s good for one of the longest winning streaks in the country. In football! Can you believe it? It still feels a little like Bizarro World to me.

For others, it feels too good to be true. Every postgame show, at least one caller asks: “How long before somebody snatches him up?” “What happens when he’s gone?” “What do we have to do to keep him here?” How typically and hilariously Memphis is that? “Things are going great, so we should probably start preparing ourselves for when it all inevitably goes to hell.”

I understand. Sports fans in this town have been burned before. But I promise it’s OK. If I had a dollar for every time a fellow alum told me “I love Tiger basketball, but I root for (insert SEC school here) in football ’cause … you know …” I could upgrade my season tickets. Now? They’re complaining about having to work in the morning after attending Thursday night’s Cincinnati game. The train’s on the tracks (literally, it’s on Southern just south of the stadium), and it’s moving in the right direction. Enjoy it.

Jen Clarke is an unapologetic Memphian and a digital marketing strategist.