Carla Jean Whitley
You are beautiful. I know that's a message you've heard a lot lately, from the spray-painted graffiti that has appeared on overpasses and walls, and its echoes in newspaper columns and Facebook groups. It's a message you should repeat to yourself, day after day. Cling to its truth.
I know you've struggled with self image, and I know you've been through hard times. The racial strife you faced in the 1960s has colored your reputation internationally. Your struggles are well documented. I've read many of the books, and my parents grew up during some of your most difficult times. I came along at the beginning of another tough era, the recession of the early '80s. I've returned and spent my adulthood with you, watching people moving in and out of city limits, businesses coming and going, long held-hurts healed.
Now, people come to Birmingham and forget—or at least, move beyond—your past as they embrace your beauty. You're becoming as acclaimed for your green hills, your vibrant arts scene, the music pouring out of your clubs.
But your beauty goes deeper still. Your true beauty lies in the people who create those things. It's in the people who develop affordable housing and bring fresh food into parts of town where those are difficult to find. Your beauty is in the writing tutor working with a student to prepare for the statewide writing exam—because Lord knows the classroom teacher is grateful for the extra help. It's in the actor and director who opens a theater in his suburb, because he believes culture shouldn't be limited to downtown.
Birmingham, your beauty extends far beyond the surface. Embrace it, and you and your residents will thrive.
Carla Jean Whitley
We have to talk.
Dear Birmingham, maybe it was a mistake to return to New York first. I went partying, shopping, sightseeing, and met old friends. In short, I had a lot of fun. Saturday night I attended a birthday party in the East Village. Sunday morning I stepped off the plane at Birmingham International.
Dear Birmingham, I don't think this is working out between us.
The college boys I have met so far are scared little white boys moving out of their momma's house, not knowing how to do their own laundry. The college girls I have met so far are acting-out binge drinkers who don't know or don't care that drunken pictures on Facebook might hurt them later in their career.
Dear Birmingham, you limited my actions.
The only place where I could go grocery shopping is Walmart, because it is the only place the volunteers from the church drive the international students. I would never buy anything there if I wasn't forced to – yet I did. I wanted to go see the colorful autumn leaves in the park like the New York Times travel column advised – yet I couldn't. I wanted to go to homely neighborhoods to take pictures of porches with rocking chairs like I imagined the South – yet I couldn't. I wanted to see a football game and understand what the whole thing is all about like I heard the people talking – yet I couldn't. I wanted to sit at an American dining table and tell people about Germany like the Friendship Partners program advertized – yet I couldn't. You wouldn't let me, so I stopped trying. I think that was after six weeks.
Dear Birmingham, I know you have nice traits as well. I know you tried.
You swamped me with compliments. When I was waiting at a pedestrian light people walked by and said "What a beautiful dress!" or "I love you earrings. They are really cute." I thought, Well, you look like you just got out of bed. Are those your pajama pants?! I said "Thanks."
Dear Birmingham, we are just not made for each other.
You know, the bottom line is that I had the most fun during my exchange semester when I got away from you to Miami and Chicago.
Maybe, this is actually a good thing... since long distance relationships are really not my thing. I'm sure you will make somebody else very happy.
Let's just be friends.
We need to talk. Yes, it's serious. No, it can't wait until you get back from the bingo hall.
I've been wondering if you're fully committed to this relationship.
We were planning to rehab Norwood together. I was going to renovate a little yellow cottage and you were going to kick your nasty crack-house habit. But you bailed. Sometimes it feels like you're never there for me.
And then you go and do something nice like building Railroad Park, and things are okay for a while. We walk together on your brand new paths. We watch kids skateboarding, legally for once. I don't mention how your little stream has already started to get swampy; you don't mention my frizzy hair.
Really, it's your attitude that's the problem.
Like that women's magazine I worked at. You didn't even give it a chance. You called us, "little ladies" and wrote us angry letters when we did stories on lesbians and atheists. You said we were harlots when we wrote about strip aerobics. Your boys club shut us down.
And another thing. Why do you keep building condos when what we really need are businesses—jobs?
Don't even get me started on the traffic. Why do you insist on living outside the city, when so many lofts sit empty downtown? You work in the city; why not live here? It seems like you'd rather sit through an hour-long commute in your SUV than live next to folks like me.
I'm not going to lie to you, Birmingham. I think you're kind of racist. There, I said it. Sure, you may technically be majority black, but your metro area isn't.
"Some of my best friends are black!" you say, shocked I'd ever think otherwise.
Well, why won't you move into the city?
"They say the schools are better in the suburbs. They say Birmingham city schools are terrible."
"Who are they?" I ask. "Who says this?" You don't have an answer.
Never mind that some Birmingham city schools are actually the best in the state.
You always have some kind of excuse, don't you?
"There's crime in the city."
"The city's too run-down."
Well, move in, and let's clean it up together. Let's use your tax dollars to fix things up, here, in the city. Prove me wrong, Birmingham, and show me that you really want me and maybe I'll stick around.
To be honest, I've always thought of us as having a love/hate relationship. Even as a child, I felt a certain burden to defend you, and who could blame me? I mean, I never viewed race through the prism of a white Southerner, but when I see photographs of what is arguably your darkest hour – the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church – which claimed the lives of four young girls – I hang my head to this day. To some degree, you will forever be defined by Bull Connor, the dogs, the water hoses – such a dark chapter in your history.
When I walk through Kelly Ingram park, I envision all the protests, and I can't help but think of Dr. King's letter from your jail. But just steps away I see the Civil Rights Institute, and all the efforts you've made to acknowledge the past. and enlighten future generations on the topic of race relations.
Education has also been another sore subject over the years – your schools have a long way to go. Money that could have been used in the classroom has all too often been spent elsewhere. And the soaring crime rate – how many times have you made the national headlines?
But you also have a lot to offer. Your commitment to the arts continues to amaze me, and I take advantage of it every chance I can.
I'm that silhouette at the downtown museum just before closing – the one gazing at the Bierstadt until the guards start locking the doors.....
I've sat in the front row at the symphony, where Tchaikovsky never sounded more sublime.
As a journalist, I had the chance to interview Cecil Whitmire, who saved the Alabama Theatre – the Showplace of the South – from the wrecking ball. I've climbed to the balcony of the Lyric Theatre for a magazine article , and listened to stories about its glory days and ongoing renovation efforts. Each year I look forward to your art walk, Magic City Art Connection and the Sidewalk Film Festival. Your Jazz Hall of Fame is also a hidden treasure....
In closing, I guess what I'm trying to say is that ....you're complicated – you have your shortcomings and your triumphs...but you will always be a part of who I am...
With warm regards,
William Jason Sumners
There are very few cities in this world which could ever define or equate your enormous impact upon the principled path to peace. The chaotic and often violent tendencies which defined your yesterday evolved into the pattern to peace in this generation. Through courage and devotion to old traditions your citizens forge new traditions of tolerance and acceptance that is both exemplary and needed at this moment in time. This period is most dangerous with more countries, organizations and individuals seeking advanced methods of devastating consequence and magnitude, Birmingham's history and example can thwart such great carnage, while minimizing the corrupting influence of such pursuits.
Your city embodies the great struggle of all mankind to live free from the shackles, objectives, oppression and corruption of certain individuals and ideologies. Your brave warriors donated their lives during this endeavor creating a gratifying legacy for historical reference. Within the context of this struggle many scars reveal a courageous dedication of the citizens to subscribe their lives to the cause of the pillars of freedom; civil and human rights. Words do no justice in describing the debts many paid so others may always find the path of liberty and enjoy the fruits born from such great labors.
Birmingham and the great state of Alabama is ground zero for wounds endured for so many years by so many souls hunting equality for all humankind beyond any barrier of classification. God sees no color, only His people, and due to your dedication and strength you have enlightened countless others to lay down their prejudices and enlist in this march to freedom and liberty for all. From a once silent majority, to a gathering and now rolling thunder, the echoes of your actions reverberate for all time and no one or no place can mistake your contributions. It is with this brand you of liberty you have stamped the evil of discrimination marking the eternal badge of shame on any whom wish to pursue the path counter to God's wish for all to be free.
Thank you Birmingham for sending your best warriors to protect the noblest trait of man by insuring through your struggle an example is set before us to uphold the peace. All men are created equal before the eyes of God to pursue life, liberty, and happiness and no individual(s) or ideology can prevent us from doing just that or protecting our liberty .
Sincerely grateful to be one of your own,
William Jason Sumners
You and I have an extremely rich history together. My mom and dad grew up with you. My grandparents, although were not born in you, made quite sizeable contributions to your upbringing when they relocated and started their families here with you. My grandparents moved to you because they saw you had promise, yes, promise, even though they were black people whom were born in rural areas without much education. They had to have believed that if they work hard enough, and maintain their faith in God that Birmingham, even though racism was your most prominent characteristic, would be good to their family and future generations to come. My grandfathers, worked in your steel and rubber plants, and relied on side vocations or skills to provide for their families. My grandmothers were homemakers, who then, once their children were of school age became entrepreneurs in daycare, music and cosmetology. They made great contributions to their community and their churches that were erected here. They were able to fulfill their dreams. Which causes me to ask you, why have you stop being so gracious and hopeful to me and my future generation?
As a young black female entrepreneur, it seems as if you have lost your promise for me and many other young people who reside in you. My grandparents passed on the spirit of hard work and entrepreneurship to me and I have many dreams that I would like to achieve and see passed on to my children and grandchildren. Many of us young people have attended your public school system, played at your parks, shopped in your malls, walked down your streets, visited your museums, prayed in your churches; but once we received our higher education and were put into positions that we could now give back to you; we moved away, and vowed to never return. I know that the economy is bad in the entire family of sister cities, but this has been going on far longer than the past few years. At least the past 20 years. Is it because you are afraid of change? Did the Civil Rights Movement scare you? Do you look at your sister cities, notice their revenue and growth, but judge them because of some of the social ills they deal with?
Are you thinking "My Father, The Federal Government, forced me to change when I was younger, but I swear, once I get older, I am not going to change again. I am not going entertain new thinking patterns, new ways of doing business, new cultures and concepts. I will let different people live here, work here, but I will not accept their differences as part of my makeup. I am going to hold on to what my founders say work, pass that on to my founders' children and not let anyone else change my beliefs and if they don't like it, they can leave"
Don't get me wrong Birmingham, your commitment to family and God is commendable, but even God is flexible enough in his teachings to include anyone who simply wants to join his kingdom. You say that you have changed and you have accepted the other races here. You have even had several black mayors. You are correct Birmingham, but the underlying fact remains that your government and most prominent businesses small and large are manipulated by those who still have the "old thinking patterns" of your founders. I love you and for some reason, I just have not been able to leave you. Maybe it's because I still hold on to the promise that my grandparents had when they moved here; that someday, I will fulfill my dreams.
You are the midwife who birthed me at age 23,
when I came to her doorstep from Berkeley
and asked for a home.
My thanks for the crackerbox house
at the base of a bulldozed hill
with a gurgling creek.
That summer of '77, I stood in a rainstorm,
witnessed the wash out of pine roots,
huge branches spilling into raging water.
Those days of becoming
you showed me the way.
you're the Mamma who raised me, as I grew
into mother of young girl in pink cotton panties,
under the downspout in warm summer rain.
Squealing and leaping, yellow curls dripping,
feet stained and shining,
the sky flashing lightning,
you squeezed us tight in embrace.
you're the Grandma who rocked me in dress of humidity,
your palpable air beaded in diamonds
on nose, lips and face.
That summer of '88, your sweat pulled
through my hair, at fishing camp juke joints,
in county-line honky tonks,
Birmingham, with your low-down greasy blues,
makin' me holler and hoot.
my great-grandmother oak tree, in dress of wisteria sleeve,
draping bright purple above me, climbing Red Mountain,
half-way to Vulcan, you dangle your perfume before me
fillin' my head with your sweets,
rich and sweet
Birmingham, always lavish with treats.
you're the women who taught me
the music of faith, heart and courage in
Sugar Hill households, Ensley High classrooms,
you broke open stories, faced grief with singing,
filled plates overflowing
Birmingham, in profuse abundance-
birthing & rocking,
feeding & guiding,
you made me see-
soft and yeilding,
deep in root,
extravagant in bloom,
pourin' down on me-
just another sweet potato pulled from reddest clay,
Birmingham, you're the spirit that made me
who I am today.
With love from your adopted daughter,
Javacia Harris Bowser
I guess you always knew I'd come back to you.
Wooed by the palm trees of California's East Bay Area, Seattle's cool summers and snow capped mountains, and the bluegrass of Kentucky, I left you; for six years I called other cities home.
But I came back to the rich red earth that birthed me.
I came back to taxed groceries, seemingly endless DMV lines and poor customer service. I came back to government scandals and corrupt local politicians who have nicknames like La La. I came back to crime reports that scare suburbanites away from your downtown.
But I am not afraid of you. I know all about your past. I know about the four little girls who went to Sunday school one day and never came back home. I know about the fire hoses and bloodthirsty dogs let loose on people with skin like mine.
I know about the filthy restrooms and drinking fountains marked "Colored."
I know the stories behind your scars. A city of lesser strength than yours would have crumbled beneath such a dark and heavy history. You fought on. As your Civil Rights Institute proves, you acknowledge the sins of your past, honor the heroes who saved you from it and you fight on.
You are pushing toward progress and you're doing it without New York City traffic and with good sweet tea.
The optimistic graffiti artist who painted the phrase "You Are Beautiful" on your overpasses was right.
Your name is not Bombingham. You are not a land of billy clubs and burning crosses. You are provocative prints and photographs from your annual Art Walk and Magic City Art Connection events, the movies of the Sidewalk Film Festival.
You are the remarkably talented children I teach at the Alabama School of Fine Arts, children that will hug you and hold your hand regardless of its color or whether it's sporting black nail polish.
You are breakfast at V. Richard's and fresh produce from the Pepper Place Farmers Market. You are dinner at Rogue Tavern and decadent cupcakes from Urban Standard coffeehouse. You are the swanky downtown lofts I wish I could afford.
And just when I start daydreaming about cities with reliable public transit systems, a stranger crosses my path with an act of kindness, a warm smile, or a simple hello and reminds me that you are home.
Javacia Harris Bowser
When I think of you, I think of trains, long rusty trains, thundering through downtown carrying the raw materials for the making of steel. The hollow whistles blow visceral images of loneliness and yearning to the core of my being. I love the drama of that feeling, a feeling of desire and regret at the same time.
They call you the "magic city" supposedly because you sprang up overnight, as the result of being the only place in the world where all the elements for making steel could be found within a ten mile radius. You started out as an industrial boomtown and have graduated into a medical marvel, a place of healing, with the raw materials of education, research and world class medicine stoking a new fire, creating a new industry of hope and perseverance.
You have preserved through years of industrial pollution and racial tension that haunts us still in pop culture references and tired clichés, assumptions of strife that earmarked you for disdain. You are a wound that has healed, but been torn open and healed again and again until the flexible scab of your pain has become beatific, and your past exonerated.
You have had to raise your head above the hokey fried green tomato shuck and jive of our country's prejudice towards your past mistakes, but raise your head you can, for you have moved onward.
I love you for your museums. The Birmingham museum of art is one of the finest regional museums in the country and your civil rights institute is an incredible monument to understanding the past and moving forward. The cuisine available is unique and timeless. You are a giant small town where one runs into ones friends often. You are the kind of rarity where strangers of all races take time to converse with one another in an inimitable southern way.
The quality and vibrancy of your arts community is galvanizing, little jewels of theatre, dance, music, writing, and visual art everywhere - a plethora of creativity that surprises and charms even the most jaded of observers.
I love you Birmingham because you are where I'm from and where I came back to after leaving to "find myself". Of course, I only found myself, when I returned to my home - my heart, the heart of Dixie.
Xander Booker, 1/24/11
I know I haven't written in a long time, but believe me, you stay on my mind. That's HUGE, because over here in Atlanta, people seem to think that Georgia should be on my mind.
Whatever. I tell everyone over here that I am a 10-year transplant from Alabama; and I suffer for it.
"Ha ha. You're a 'Bama in Atlanta," they say.
Damn right, I say, and proud of it.
"The only good thing coming out of Alabama is I-20 East," they say.
Oh yeah, I say, but it runs in both directions; and I make the trip back west often!
"But y'all got Bull Connor, Larry Langford, and Richard Scrushy," they say.
We have history, I say, some of it tragic; but a lot of it – Magic. We've been through hard times – HARD times; but they didn't kill us. In fact, at times, we get the spotlight. The Magic City and Her People – The American Idols!
I tell them. I defend your honor against every attack! But you are hard to defend sometimes.
You make STARS, Birmingham, but they have to leave to make their mark! Will we forever be just another place to be from? You are the Heart of the Heart of Dixie, but where is the love?
You ask, why did I leave you? Truth is, I did not want to leave you. I had to. There was no money, and you weren't doing anything about it. I had an Alabama education, but I had to come to Georgia to use it. I left for money – and not much of it. At times, I feel really cheap.
You know, we could get that money if you would stop being so self-righteous. What is so wrong about having a lottery? They have it over here. They make money with it over here. They send their kids to college with it over here!
I get so mad at you 'Ham; but I love you. But I need you to get some pride about you! Show love to the stars you make. Make a way for the kids to go to college, and make them want to stay after they do. And when corruption and violence come your way, stand up for yourself and send them away!
You know I'll stand with you. And when you get yourself together, I'll come home to you.
Thank you for helping me realize the potential in myself and giving me the power to overcome all obstacles. In 2009, after moving from Louisville, Kentucky, I became homeless with two small children. I had no family or friends to turn to in this city. The only thing that I had was faith. One night while watching my children fall asleep in a stranger"s home, I asked God to show me a sign about where he wanted me to go. I could have easily called my Daddy and moved back home with my parents. But as a 27 yea r old who has been on her on since age16 and 500 miles away from home with no money, that thought was easier said than done. The only thing that I could do was pray. I prayed myself to sleep and when I woke up the next morning. In my dream, God had shown me through a maze a porcelain bird. Once I touched the bird it immediately opened and the word Birmingham, Alabama was inscribed on the inside. I knew then that God did not want me to leave this city, and that all I had to do was have complete faith in Him. Since taking my leap of faith, three months later I obtained stable housing for my family. Also, I got a full time job working at a Community Center with the most amazing children. I just want to say I LOVE YOU! Birmingham. You helped me come from a place of hopelessness to one of pure love. I have learned more things about myself in the two years that I have lived in this great city than in the past 28 years of my life.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart,
La Toya Fletcher
You have progress over the last 30 years plus, but you still have a lot of maturing to do. We the people, now feel that the progress is at a stand-still and we are not moving forward. As much as you may hate to hear this, but Former Mayor Larry Langford was a progressive person. And his goals and visions for this great city could have made Birmingham one of the main attractions of the south. However, a lot of people that sit on the city counsil do not share this man's vision and was blocking. When people reach a certain age, then we feel as if they need to retire. And believe us, a lot of you need to go and sit down! It's time to allow some young, adventerous, intelligent people with bright and fresh ideas to run this city. We are still living in the "good ole boy system" here in Birmingham. Where everything is: if you stratch my back, then I'll stratch yours. Or, I've known your mom and dad for years, so of course your less qualified, barley educated behind can take this job from the qualified more than capable candidate. And last but not least, I've kept you in the mayor's and city counsil seat for "x" amount of years and love the way that you have run down this city, so I won't bother to go out and vote your stubborn, non-computer literate, stuck in your ways, still living in the 1970's behind out of office. It's sad! And yes, the Birmingham City Board of Education is twice as worse. Look at the test scores and how the board waste money on themselves, but can never explain how the money came up missing or they don't have the budget to provide certain classroom resources. However, a board employee can get a raise year after year and drive a Chrysler 300 or Mercedes Benz. Again, look at the student's test scores. These are the people that will be running the city one day. I fear for my life because the city of Birmingham has failed it's youth. What a terrible time we live in. No progression, no change.
Thank you for giving me the "Bug Man," the exterminator who comes to my apartment to spray for what I call "Cadillac Cockroaches," which are the monstrous size of a silver dollar. Thank you for the way he knocks and calls out, "BUG MAN! BUG MAN." As he aims his giant bug canister of poison at offending corners, it resembles an oversized spray can of "Silly String," that ancient party relic from the 1970s. When you ask the "Bug Man" how he is doing, he grins big and says, "Not bad for a bug-killing day."
Thank you, Birmingham, for the way he can deliver entire worlds in two minutes as he sprays with abandon.
I saw your husband was here. I thought y'all got yourselves a divorce, and then I saw he was here, and I thought, well that is sweet. So many folks get divorced these days, you know? Sad. Now you know I can't kill the big bugs. I can't do nothing about the big ones. They don't want to be in here anymore than you want them in here, but I can't do nothing about them until the landlord says I can start spraying outside. I can get the little ones, but don't you start spraying too. Okay? This is powerful stuff. I'm teaching my daughter the business. She needs a job. She's got a worthless husband. Me and my wife got three daughters. We been married twenty-four-years. I'm the kind of man who can't live alone. If my wife up and died or left my butt I'd have to get me another woman in a few months. That's how I am. But we celebrated twenty-four-years. That's good I think. My daughter - she is so shy - she's pretty but she don't see it and kids can be mean, bragging on their new jeans or fancy cell phones. You know what is sad to me? Saddest thing of all? An ugly girl. Now take a guy? He can be ugly, look at me. But a girl? It's just sad. Now listen, you remember what I told you about spraying. Don't do it. Did I tell you I started making quilt and jean purses and guitar straps at my church? I'm gonna have me a whole other side business other than just bug-killing. Okay, see you later. Bye."
Thanks, Birmingham, for the Bug Man.
Letters from students at the Cornerstone SchoolChristina Hill
January 12, 2011
I enjoy living here in your city. I think that you provide lots of things that people can venture out and do. However, there are some things that I disapprove of.
I don't like that your crime rate is so high. Sometime in certain areas of your town I feel uncomfortable. I feel you can improve and do better because you are the "Magic City".
I do like that you have attractions and recreational centers for kids and adults. I truly enjoy going to the McWane Center and Railroad Park. I also like that you have historical sites like the Civil Rights Museum and the 16th Street Baptist Church. I think that this could bring lots of tourists and help kids learn about their past.
Even though you sometime have your faults you can be a very enjoyable place to live.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January 12, 2011
You are amazing for the friendliness you show me. I can be at school or somewhere in my neighborhood and there are many people who show it towards me. Living in a place like this makes me very cheerful and I really appreciate it.
You are so amazing but sometimes you can be cruel too. I don't like you because of the killing. Every day I hear an ambulance or a police siren in my neighborhood. When I hear the siren, it makes me think about innocent people dying or hurt. I find that situation very sad and it makes me anxious.
I think this place will be a better place to live if you can improve. This can change the way people are towards other people. It can also change the way people think of you. Improving will change a negative opinion to a positive one.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January 12, 2011
It would be a pleasure for me to tell you how appreciative I am of you. You have given me a home where I can express myself and live life to its fullest. I have always dreamed of writing a letter to you, but just never got the chance to write one. Now, I get the chance to write you a marvelous letter. This letter is about how much I really love you.
First, I would like to say I am having a delightful time at the RailRoad Park. The RailRoad Park is a wonderful place where my family and I can relax, hangout, and exercise. I hope that the RailRoad Park stays a safe and clean environment for us. Second, I hope there are more projects to come, because I would really like warming places were my friends, relatives, and neighbors would want to go and be themselves.
If there was one issue I would like to address is to start being eco-friendly to our planet. We as a community can start planting more trees, clean up our plant, uses less electricity and water. If we start to become more aware of our environment by doing more things to save this planet, rather than destroying our planet. Sometimes it's the little things we do that can help our city and world.
I would like to thank you for taking time to read my letter. I really hope you enjoy the things that I had to say to you. Thank you for everything. Birmingham, I truly have a wonderful place I can call a real home.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January, 12, 2011
I live here and I have a few complaints and suggestions for you. I think they could really make life here better.
One issue for instance is the weather. In the winter you should really think about being warmer and sunnier. Most people here don't really like cold weather. They don't like having to drive in snow or defrost their cars. Also, we don't like being cold, so it would be nice if you could warm it up a little bit.
But in the summer it's so hot. It burns my feet to walk on your ground because it's so flaming hot. But it is good also because you can tan and swim. I think 85 degrees is the perfect temperature. It is not too hot and not too cold.
I really hope you will take my suggestions into consideration. They may improve the lives of many people who live here. They would make life here much more enjoyable. It would be great if you could do these things.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January 12, 2011
You are the Magic City. People come to you with hope in having fun. You are an incredible place.
You contain one of the world's largest cast iron statues which is considered one of the most memorable works of civic art in the United States. This wonderful statue is called Vulcan.
You contain the most beautiful structures such as: the Birmingham Jefferson Civic Center, the Birmingham Zoo, and the many outlets and malls.
The United States considers you a wonderful state. Without you Alabama would be nothing!
Thank you for being such a great city to me!
Lauryn M. Wheeler
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January 12, 2011
Birmingham, you are a great city with lots of rides and attractions. You were born June 1, 1871. You have so many great places and people I just can't list them all. Your cultures are all different, but they are alike in many ways. You are home to the famous Auburn Tigers, which are the BCS Championship winners.
I especially love your Supreme Court. The many great cultures are what have shaped and molded you into what you are today. We have the freedom of speech.
This city tells a great story. I love how almost everywhere I go I am standing on a historic ground and every different piece of you has a story to tell.
Though you are so great and there is so much about you that is unforgettable, I have to admit there are some things that I wouldn't mind being changed or upgraded. I hate how people mistreat you and your resources. I hate how in some of your neighborhoods it looks like a tornado has been through them or if a pack of wolves have lived there for a while.
I know that you have no control over the things that other people do to you. That's why I will always love the city I live in and cherish you until the day I die. I will also do my best to make good use of your resources and not over use them.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama
January 12, 2011
A lot of people come on vacation here to see the sights, but little do they know there's not must to see. Most people like to go downtown where most of our tall buildings are. Some people have different opinions about you but you are where I was born. You are home.
One thing that I like about you is that you have schools that provide education for all ages. Another thing that I like about you is that you have jobs that provide work for all economic backgrounds. I also like that you have outlets that provide jobs, and give people something to do.
Although I like some things about you, there's also something's I don't like as much. One thing that I dislike about you is that, in my opinion, too many people are being laid off their jobs. Because of this people become homeless or barely make enough money to take care of their families. They need help.
So even though I like some things about you and don't like others, you are still great to me. You are doing everything you can, so now it's time for me to show you appreciation for what you've done. Thank you, Birmingham.
Cornerstone Schools of Alabama