Gale Melcher

A faded postcard, dated July 16, 1918, and mailed to Mrs. C.W. Seifert of Austintown, Ohio, by her son with questionable handwriting, reads: “Dear mother, I always said I would see half the world. I guess I am, so don’t worry. I am with the Youngslows’ boys. We are all happy, you may as well be. We are glad we left the South… With love to all, [your] son C.P.S.” The front of the postcard, stamped in Danville, Virginia, features a grand stone building with towering spires.

I didn’t get out much while in school and attended my first real “college party” just before I graduated. But I imbibed unholy spirits like many 21+-year-olds, had deep conversations with my roommate over wine, and occasionally took an Uber home after a night on the town. Many of my dear friends are bartenders who can play the roles of therapist, doctor, and security all in one night. Alcohol can make us feel like we’re funnier, smarter, relaxed, on top of the world.

Stained and ruined clothes. Clogged appliances. Water from faucets so brown it looks like sweet tea. This is what residents in south Greensboro have been dealing with for the last year, said Keith Peterson, a resident of the Woodlea neighborhood. And it has felt like an uphill battle to get answers from the city as to why. “We already had meetings,” Peterson said. “We’re at the point where there should have been some things in place to mitigate the problem.