In Cambridge, A Different Kind of Weed For Sale

Spotted for sale at the Harvard Square/Charles Hotel farmer's market on Fridays and Sundays: purslane. That's right, purslane for four bucks a pound. Could this be another twist on the old story line of country rubes being taken in by erudite urbanites? In this version, clever farmers milk their lettered city customers eager to pay top dollar for locally grown, organic produce.

Purslane: one of the most common of weeds (which is what we call all plants for which we don't know the name and have lost track of the use), it flourishes everywhere here in the city. It flourishes everywhere. Gardeners pull it from their cultivated gardens as often as they weed. It pullulates in the cracks and crevices of streets from Dudley to Brattle and anywhere else there's a bit of soil.

Crunchy and high in omega-3 fatty acids, purslane is not only abundant, it is delicious and nutritious. It's also free. While foraging from places where there's lots of vehicular traffic is not a good idea, if the soil in your yard is relatively heavy metal free, give it a taste, at the very least. Thoreau, while at Walden, enjoyed his boiled and salted while others like it raw in salads.

Ultimately, as long as they have buyers, no one can begrudge farmers one penny of what they earn or charge for the fruits of their labors - even if that fruit is just a common plant readily available for the pickin'.

How (Not) to Get to the MFA

Let's start at the sign. This lonely little sign, at the corner of Park Drive and Brookline Ave., across from the Sears Center. This sign in the middle of nowhere, with no other signs pointing to it or away from it.



Turn right, it says, turn right here onto Park Drive to get to the MFA. After turning right, there's a sign for the Longwood area and the hospitals, a sign for the Gardner Museum, even a little sign for Fenway but no sign to the MFA. And there are three possible route options: 1. make a hairpin turn left back onto Park Drive (or is that the end of the Riverway? or both?) 2. go sorta in the middle onto the Riverway and into JP and beyond or 3. go straight past the Sears Center into Brookline toward Cambridge.


Which will it be? Door number one, door number two, or door number three? Two of the three options could get you to the MFA (one in a roundabout way) , but only if you already know how to get there. Or are ignoring that one little hopeful related to nothing sign and relying on your GPS, smart phone, or a good, old-fashioned map. Welcome to driving in Boston. Don't forget to pack your patience and sense of humor.

Or better, leave the car at home and to get to the MFA, (assuming you're sleeping in the metro Boston area) make your way to Copley Square and take the number 39 bus to the MFA. It's much less confusing than the Green Line and you can see a bit of the city en route.

Walkers can, again from Copley Square, get on Huntington Avenue and walk west for a little more than a mile to get to the MFA. That's probably the most hassle free way to do it and the nicest, weather permitting.

After you finally make it to and have had enough of the MFA, go for a stroll through The Fens and the gorgeous Victory Gardens on the west side of the museum and then grab lunch in one of the small eateries on the west side of The Fens. The area around Peterborough and Kilmarnock streets has Turkish, Thai, Japanese, Italian, and Brazilian food provided by small independently owned restaurants.

Nice Try, Dan. A Parking Warning to All Out-of-Towners

The former site of Crate and Barrel on Brattle Street in Cambridge has been buzzing with construction activity all summer. Everyday, work crews arrive to demolish the old interior and construct a different one for the new tenant, Anthropologie.

Guys on the site seem to have come mostly from the suburbs and so were unfamiliar with Cambridge parking meter rules. The first few days they'd leave their cars and trucks in the same spot and keep feeding the meter - a big no-no, which I too learned the hard way. After two hours, you've got to move the car to a different spot or you'll get a ticket - even if there's money in the meter.

Electrician Dan gave it a good shot but the meter reader (I see as many men as maids working the meters in the Peeps Republic) will always win.

Got rock?

Overheard in Dudley Square this sultry summer evening: "Got rock. Got weed". The sales pitch was tendered outside of the always bustling Giant Liquors on Washington Street. A six-pack of Natural Ice and your preferred illegal smoke all in one quick errand. Would you like cocaine or marijuana with that bottle of Heineken?

It reminded me a little of the Symphony Road area in the early '80's. In those days the Symphony Wholefoods was a Stop n Shop. You could drop in for a loaf of bread, some milk, a bag of weed, and a hooker. One-stop shopping at its finest.

Heading south from Dudley on foot, one must run the gauntlet of drunks, panhandlers, drug dealers and all other manner of societies cast-offs who throng the sidewalk in front of the store and it can be a little scary passing by when you're on your own.

Giant Liquors does everything they possibly can to deter loitering by posting a sign on 8x12 paper behind the cast iron grate that covers the windows. The sign, in bleached out 14 point type, reads: No loitering. No trespassing.

Business thrives.

Letter From London to My Beloved, Inconsiderate Dog-Owning Neighbors

The above is posted regularly along the Thames Walk and there is nary a sign of dog doo.

Punchdrunk Slut

Scored six tickets to Punchdrunk's next show which will stage in London this month. The Duchess of Malfi is a co-production with ENO. Tickets went on sale Friday, 5 June online and sold out within hours.

Yes, I am gloating. Yes, I will follow them anywhere.

Lane Change

A woman in a car in JP yelled at me the other day for riding on the left hand side of the road where I was safer. She must not get to Back Bay very often where the bike lane on Comm Ave. shifts left.

Virtual Street Corners

Check out this crazy little virtual street corner news service grant funded "art" installation linking Dudley Square with Coolidge Corner. No, I mean come to Dudley Square and really check it out - participate in it!

Come to Dudley, go to A Nubian Notion, step up to the mic, look into the camera and shout out a "hey, how ya doin'" to your fellow citizens on the 66 bus route. Don't be shy or afraid of making a fool of yourself - that's part of the fun, though fun is not the intent of the project. Virtual Street Corners merges digital art with citizen journalism and is about sharing local news, according to the exhibit's website.

Virtual Street Corners creator, John Ewing in Dudley talks to people in Coolidge Corner.

The cutest part of the whole project? The ingenuousness with which the website states: "Coolidge Corner and Dudley Square are just 2.4 miles apart. A fifteen minute ride on the 66 bus yet few people from each neighborhood appear to visit the other. Why?"

That's sweet copy for big money grant funding but curious on two counts. First, it makes me wonder if whoever wrote the above has ever spent any time on the 66 bus. Yup, you sometimes can drive from Dudley to Coolidge in 15 minutes but even with the students out of town, you're not gonna do that kind of easy time on the 66 between Dudley and Coolidge - unless it's a no traffic/few passengers run.

Secondly, sadly, people from Roxbury don't like to come to Dudley. Why would anyone from Brookline? Coolidge Corner is a safe, clean, mixed use neighborhood with a stupendous independent movie theater, sex toy shop (they're not just for sleazy guys in trenchcoats anymore), locally owned shoe stores, and beautiful arcade. Other attractions include a plethora of good restaurants, a real wine shop or two, a dance studio, fitness studio, music school, and one of the best indie bookstores in the entire metro Boston area. Coolidge Corner is well-maintained and business owners in the area take a vested interest in the AREA and not just their own square footage.

Dudley's got soul. It's got history. It's got Brandy and Haley and Tropical Foods. It's got that crummy decent new garden shop where people are stoned and/or rude all the time helpful (and I'd been so excited about it). And at 6 p.m. on weekdays, it's got tumbleweeds and rolled up sidewalks.

Oh, wait! That's where the "art" comes in, right? By drawing attention to the incredible disparities in the two areas, people - civic and business leaders are shamed into doing the right thing and they pour resources into a neglected district. Or not. What do you think?

Chicken Story

A Friend of Mine is letting neighbors keep a chicken coop in her yard. Given these difficult economic times and the increasing emphasis on locally grown produce and sustainability, I figured chickens would be pecking their way into city yards on a grand scale. Here in Roxbury, aside from that Friend of Mine, Garden Girl too keeps chickens. Curious about the rules for urban roosts, I started calling around to see how Cambridge, Boston, and Brookline handle animal husbandry. It turns out Brookline is the most progressive and forward thinking on the issue of farm or back yard animals.

Mr. Maloney of the Brookline Health Department explained that residents need to go through a process for the “keeping of animals”. There are zoning and health hearings where the keeper of the animal demonstrates that there will be a one hundred foot buffer between the animal(s) and abutters, that there’s a game plan for sanitation and pest control and there will be no nuisances - specifically, no noise and no stench. Keep the rules and your permit will be renewed annually. Though I was enquiring specifically about chickens, bucolic Brookline has seen permit applications for bees, horses, pigs, goats, cows, and pigeons (the last was denied)

Until recently, Mr. Maloney said he’d only seen about 5 applications in 20 years for keeping animals but that number has shifted to at least one call a month and sometimes more. He said that the reason for the increase in interest in keeping animals on premises is twofold. Economy entered into the equation for those people who boarded their horses elsewhere but were looking to keep them at home to save money. “Green philosophy and sustainability” is the second reason, according to Mr. Maloney, with more people interested in growing food on their own premises; using the chicken droppings for compost and organic fertilizer; and eating eggs fresh from one’s own yard.

Cambridge Inspectional Services Department transferred me to the Zoning Department where Sean O’Grady answered the phone. When asked about keeping chickens in a coop in a backyard he stated simply, “Livestock is not allowed in the city”. Though one could apply for a zoning variance he said that the last chicken request was denied. Cambridge has had a handful of chicken coop requests, Mr. O’Grady said and, “The city council’s been talking about looking at an ordinance (to address the issue of chicken in the city) but I’m not sure where that’s going”.

Finally, I called Boston. Three times. And I am still none the wiser about chicken coops, though a farmer friend informs me firmly that they are not allowed by city ordinance.

Boston, Call 1

The Department of Public Health, which had all the answers in Brookline, transferred me to ISD. ISD transferred me back to Health and I got a recording.

Boston, Call 2

Starting with the ISD Code Enforcement Division, I asked about the rules for chicken coops.

“Oh. I’m not sure. Hang on one sec. Let me see.” A moment on hold and then, “That’s the Building Department." Transferred to the Building Department, I got the Inspector on Duty’s recorded voicemail cause all the Inspectors are out on the road after 8 or 9 a.m. I didn’t leave a voicemail.

Boston, Call 3

This call started with the Mayor’s Office which transferred me to ISD which transferred me to Building Permits who told me it was her first time ever query about chickens and transferred me to the ISD Inspector’s phone where I, again, did not leave voicemail message on the machine.

Whatever the Boston rules may be, the Friend of Mine and her neighbors will operate along the lines established by Brookline:  no nuisances - so no roosters and a clean up plan for poop so there's no smell.

Bad Thing in Dudley

This past weekend, Mayor Menino waxed enthusiastic about all the amazing things happening in Dudley Square: a new police station and and an historic fire station renovation. Woo. Hoo. The current police station makes prisoner quarters in Guantanamo look like the Chateau les Crayeres. And that cute little historic fire station next to one of the oldest European burial grounds in the country was just begging for rehab. But as hizzoner ran down the list of amazing things happening in Dudley, two simple words erupted repeatedly in a whisper from my lips into the ear of my companion:

Gravel pit.

This is not a view from somewhere in Detroit (sorry, Detroit, I know things are tough). This is the view from Washington Street of the enormous gravel pit which begs to be turned into, not just the long ago promised municipal offices, but a central location for City Hall. That's right, Mayor. Never mind the corner office on the beach. All roads lead to Roxbury. Dudley’s rich in history and culture and is the geographic center of the city. It's a veritable transportation hub. And it needs not just your rhetoric but a real, viable, sustainable plan for regeneration as the vibrant, bustling urban center it once was and could easily again become. The best way to do that is with a little of your TLC and a lot of your attention. So take some of those big corporate tax credits away from the undeserving monoliths, toss them together with a desire to leave a meaningful, encomium-worthy legacy and sprinkle in a hefty dose of visionary thinking – (use someone else’s if you can’t muster up your own).
Develop the lot already.
And in the meantime, I’m working on a DIY project in my backyard. Could I have some of that gravel?

Good Things in Dudley

This past weekend was a big one for Dudley.

Historic Boston, Inc., nonprofit developer of historic buildings, hosted a neighborhood block party Saturday to celebrate the renovation of the Eustis Street Fire House. HBI will be renting their School Street building and moving their headquarters to Eustis Street sometime in 2011.


Matthew Kiefer (far left of this picture), President of HBI, said the organization is “joyful about moving to Dudley”. He characterized HBI as “innovative and not afraid to make positive change”. According to Keifer, HBI has a history of taking historic gems and demonstrating that old buildings can be redeveloped for different needs and this type of redevelopment strengthens communities. At 1500 square feet, the fire house is the smallest New Markets project ever.

HBI is responsible for renovating several historic buildings in Highland Park – the First Church and the Spooner-Lambert House (above) among them.

After the BBQ, the 7th Annual African American Military Heritage Day Program took place in the newly dedicated EO Gourdin Park.

A slight non-sequitur but I’m pretty excited about the new garden store, Boston Gardener:  Urban Gardening Supplies,  which just opened on Washington Street between the Haley House and Dark Wave tattoo parlor. Jonathan, the guy who also owns The Hempest on Newbury and in Harvard Square is selling gardening supplies and, eventually, juices from a juice bar at the back of the store.

Honor System Books

Books for sale at a sidewalk table in Harvard Square.

Only in The People's Republic?

Ok, so he had to lock the cash box to the table.  Still, it looks like it's working for him.

People browse all day long.

Dog Run? Dog Fight!

Someone in the neighborhood was wondering about the possibility of a dog-run here. Innocent enough query and yet Cerebus itself unleashed couldn’t have torn as many new assholes as the listservistas did in the past 24 hours.

The complaints ran all over the board but here are a few, paraphrased:

Dog owners don’t pick up their dog shit and need to do so. (Bad dog owners!)

Dog owners pick up not only their own dog’s crap but the crap left behind by people. (Good dog owners!)

How can we even be thinking about a dog run when our children and other members of our own species don’t receive adequate care. (Bad people!)

Dogs make the place safer because they sniff out nefarious people hiding in bushes. (Rrrrr.)

Dogs make the place safer because they sniff out nefarious bushes hiding in people. (Me making a really bad joke.)

Dog owners walk more than non-dog owners. (Bullshit!)

A dog run will make us the South End. (Fuck that!)

Oh, sure, let’s have a dog run but can someone give me a really good reason why we drove The Food Project out? (Yeah, I still don’t get that either.)

A good spot for a dog run might be that empty, fenced-in lot by the Black Jesus. (Why didn't we allow The Food Project in? And whatever happened to that ridiculous red herring of an Owl Sanctuary idea?)

How dare you insult the Black Jesus by suggesting we put a bunch of dogs next to him? (Sigh.)

Dogs aren’t the problem, people are the problem. (Amen!)

What exactly are you insinuating by “nefarious people hiding in bushes”? (Sigh, again.)

This used to be such a great and perfect neighborhood with incredible civic pride but all that’s vanished. There are so many new people… (I'm all sighed out.)

And on it went (and continues) with a few scattered cries for decency and neighborliness and tolerance. Woof.

The Walkin’-est Guy in Highland Park

There’s been (more than) a tad of whingeing from people living here that Highland Park is not walkable - a notion I reject. Sidewalks abound and with the exception of a few thoroughfares and cut-throughs, there’s generally not much car traffic to pollute a walk with engine noise and exhaust. Walkin’ Highland Park is a far cry from walkin’ Route 9. For those who think we are not a walkable neighborhood, the problem may be that there isn’t a lot of commercial type activity within the neighborhood boundaries to walk to but I also take exception to the idea that a walk requires a destination. A walk is a destination unto itself and there is no predicting what adventure may befall (or not) the spontaneous or habitual walker.

Adventure or not, walking for walking’s sake is a great idea. And Highland Park is a great place to do it.

“HP is unique in that way because it is one of the only places in the city where you can actually walk in the middle of the street and not worry about not getting run over. That’s the charm of the neighborhood,” says lifelong HP resident and sustainability strategist Scotland Willis.

Great place, good walking and yet, dog walkers, car-free teens, and guys heading to Fernandez for liquid refreshment aside, I don’t run into many walkers when I’m perambulating or riding. Except for this guy.

First thing in the morning, last thing at night: Marvin Sealey's walkin’. Sometimes, fast, sometimes slow, his distinctive gait is a comfort to me when it’s late and dark and I’m feeling a little edgy. He's lived with his family, on Kittredge Park for 41 of his 51 years and the other ten, the family lived on Dorr Street. He estimates he walks 2-3 miles a day but I bet it’s more. No type of weather is a deterrent, Marvin says, and I’ve seen him out in the worst of it. Part of his walking habit is to run errands for neighbors and his walks tend to be confined to the neighborhood: Fernandez's on Washington and Cedar to Roxbury Crossing to the fast food joints in Dudley.

“I like the air and sunshine,’ he says but he won’t typically appear on the streets until after 1 in the afternoon.

His older brother, Kent, is a walker too, but also a bit more meditative. Kent is the solemn, intense, handsome man with the long dreads who will pause in his walks to think deeply and for a long time. At least that’s how it looks to me.

Walk on, Sealeys, and show the whingers how it’s done.

Let the Towing Begin!

April Fool’s Day has come and gone but if you’re not reading street signs, the joke’s on you. April is when the city picks up where they left off in November with street cleaning and the tow trucks were out in force this morning. We’re talking flatbeds so they can tow more than one car per truck.

As I watched the tow trucks pull away on Centre Street, I couldn’t help but feel a smidge of glee on behalf of my west-of-Highland Street neighbors. They’re squeezed by the influx of daily commuters who drive to the neighborhood, occupy much of the available street parking (RCC commuters take up the remainder), and then hop on the Orange Line at Roxbury Crossing.

Sorry Rozzie, West Roxbury, Hyde Park, Mattapan, and Milton. Getting towed sucks – it’s an awful waste of time and money. But if you parked on the wrong side of the street today, it’s time to pay up. Think of this financial contribution as a generous way of easing the city’s fiscal crisis: you’re adding more beans to the pot.

Common Ground

Colin breaks ground (re-using a shovel found on-site) in the Common Ground Community Garden on Cedar Street.

Seriously, Colin along with Liz, Rachel Shuler, and Jeff Klein spent the afternoon this past Saturday where they'd left off the week before: clearing brambles, saplings, and other vegetation out of the Common Ground soon-to-be garden.

Jon Ellertson, of Thornton Street since 1967, gardened this particular plot with other neighbors from 1968 until around 1980. At the time, the city owned the land which now belongs to BNAN. Apple trees had been planted in the garden at that time but they didn't survive. Ellertson hopes to plant more apple trees, if other gardeners agree, but in the meantime considers the garden a "nice community-building exercise".

Watch the progress of the garden here.

RIP, Dr. Joseph D. Warren

Gentle, kind, bright, thoughtful: Dr. Joseph D. Warren was the best kind of "good citizen". He will be most sorely missed but fortunately, through his work, he's left behind a little bit of heaven.

From Northeastern University: "Funeral services for Dr. Warren will be taking place at 10am at Sacred Heart Parish, located at 1321 Centre St., Newton, MA, 02459 on Monday, April 5. More information will be forthcoming".

This Is What Sunshine Looks Like: Dudley's New Police Station Under Construction

Taken early on a Saturday morning a month ago, this is Dudley Square's new police station under construction. Local 7 has made their mark on a steel girder. Unlike the big gravel pit in the middle of Dudley, this building gives us reason to hope.

Where to Hide Your Swiss Army Knife Outside City Hall

I had an appointment at City Hall and was running late. Dashed into the building and threw all my bags on the xray machine conveyor belt. Walked through the metal detector. Almost there.

"Ma’am, do you have a Swiss Army knife in your bag?"

Shit. Shit!

I always have a Swiss Army knife in my bag and if I don’t have a Swiss Army knife, I have a Leatherman. How do people make it through the day without pocket tools? The last time one of my pocket knives was confiscated by airport security and I bought a new, more expensive model, I promised myself I’d have it forever.

Shit!

"Ma’am, you can’t enter the building with the pocket knife."

"Can I leave it here with you and grab it on my way out?" Worth a try to ask.

"No, ma’am blah, blah blah." I was thinking of where I could go or who I knew in the area who wouldn’t mind babysitting my pocket knife for an hour or so.

Across from City Hall lies a Quizway or Subnos – one of those national fast "food" sandwich shops. I ran into the just opened store.

"Good morning," I said. "How are you?"

Bianca, the young woman behind the counter was very pleasant.

"Listen," I said. "I have kind of a bizarre request…" I proffered the Swiss Army knife. "Any chance at all you could hold on to this for just an hour while I duck into City Hall." I turned on my most winning smile. She remained pleasant, obviously used to crazy people.

"Sorry," she said. "The manager has strictly forbidden that we hold anything for anyone. It's store policy."

"So this happens a lot? People come in and ask you to hold onto stuff for them?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "All the time. All the time. Sorry, I would do it but…"

"How often? How often do people ask you to hold onto things?"

"Oh, everyday."

"And what kind of stuff?"

She giggled. "Oh, everything! One guy came in with a suitcase full of ‘razor blades’ and wanted us to hold on to them for him."

"A suitcase full of razor blades? And he told you that?"

"Yeah." She was still giggling. "I’m really sorry," she said again. "I would but the manager is really strict…"

I thanked her and ran outside, scanning the plaza. I was considering burying the knife in the soil of one of the huge brick planters until I could retrieve it when I saw the solution: the perfect Swiss Army knife hiding spot. The plaza has all kinds of smallish, unsealed electrical boxes (the wires are taped, if not capped) so I slid the knife into one of those and went back into City Hall.

When finished with my business, there was a part of me assuming the knife would be gone but lo and behold! it was still there.

Deposed of, Disposed of

Deposed last week for the very first time in my life and in that five grueling hours, I learned a lot.

I learned why lawyers have generally earned the reputation of being smarmy sub-humans.

I learned that intimidation, browbeating, manipulation, and bullying is understood to be an important part of “questioning” in legal proceedings.

I learned that, five days later, though I may still be smarting from what felt like emotional molestation, it’s just all in a day’s work for counsel.

I learned that it’s hard not to be contemptuous of a legal system in which bullying witnesses is ordinary part of establishing the “truth”.

I learned you don’t have to be particularly brainy to be a lawyer, just driven and at least mildly sadistic.

I learned that our legal system could probably do with some reform.

What Does Your Garden Grow?

City, city, often pretty, how does your garden grow?
With empty bottles of rum and not empty condoms
And tomatoes lined up in a row.


In my personal almanac, Spring begins at the Winter Solstice, when daylight begins outstripping darkness. As a gardener, unfrozen earth is the first hint that I can start planting those cool weather crops like peas and kale. And as an urban gardener, I never know what treasures or surprises I’ll find in my garden plot. There can be errant tomato plants, unidentified flowers, and even a little non-organic matter.

When I gardened in the Fens, I found used condoms, men’s underwear and a belt. More used condoms and beer bottles sprouted regularly in the Symphony Road plot. Oscar Parker garden in Mission Hill has its share of bottles and sundry junk food wrappers and is also the site of the best dump I’ve ever received: a five foot tall metal sculpture. Buried in the Spring snow a few years ago, at first I thought it was just an iron pipe but unearthed it revealed itself to be so much more. Given the weight of this thing and the fact that it would take at least two very fit people to hurl it over the fence, I believe it was intended as a gift as much as a dump.

So thank you, anonymous MassArt or Museum School student. I assume you finished this piece and had nowhere to put it so you made an unsolicited nocturnal submission – and one so much more pleasant than the others I’ve received.

At first, I tried to erect it in my plot since it would’ve made a kick-ass trellis for my sweet peas. Unable to secure it well enough on the uneven, muddy garden soil, I conferred with garden managers and someone fastened it to the concrete in a common area.

You Say Toe May Toe, I Say Roxbury

Just as the Sober Homes a couple of years ago stoked some neighborhood heat and activity, so too had the recent exciting prospect of a nice neighborhood restaurant. What began as a polite online listserv conversation about what amenities mean to us, degenerated after a week or so into name calling: Fort Hill! Highland Park! Fort Hill! Highland Park!

Triggered innocently enough by a neighbor taking initiative, the Fort Hill! Highland Park! debate simmers on the back of the stove. On the front burner: to vision or not to vision. What do we want here? What are we willing to tolerate, what will we embrace, and what will we disdain? And what will we call ourselves? This last is not a new question.

As Francis S. Drake wrote in 1878 in his preface to The Town of Roxbury, Its Memorable Persons and Places, Its History and Antiquities, with Numerous Illustrations of Its Old landmarks and Noted Personages:

“Roxbury was appropriately so named from its most prominent natural characteristic; and no one who venerates its founders or who cherishes a proper regard for the preservation of its historical or ancestral memories, should ever consent to substitute for it a name no more applicable to it than to many other localities now included within the city limits. To do so is no less a blunder in taste than in fact. The great city of London, while gradually absorbing adjoining localities, religiously preserves their ancient names. Are ours less dear to us? Let us, then, while a single “rock” remains above its surface, cling to the good old name of ROXBURY, ‘scotched, not killed,’ by the temporary substitution for it of the unacceptable misnomer of ‘Boston Highlands’.”

Unlike Drake, I kinda like Boston Highlands for this section of Roxbury. But I agree, too, with the neighbor who fairly growled on the listserv, call this nook what you like but its name is Roxbury.

911

When you dial 911 from a cell phone in Massachusetts, you get the State Police.

“911. This call is being recorded. What is your emergency?”

“No emergency. May I have the Boston Police, please?”

Here’s where it gets annoying and maybe even a little dangerous. Most dispatchers will plug you right through to whatever police department it is you’ve asked for. Others want to hear your story.

“What’s the problem, ma’am?”

I fell for this the first time it happened, prattled on with location and concerns and descriptions and caveats. Then the dude put me through to the Boston Police.

“Boston Police. This call is being recorded. What is the address of your emergency?”

And I had to repeat it all again.

Think about this: if it is an emergency and I’ve got a bullet riddled body on the floor of my kitchen, or an assailant lunging at me with a knife or someone in the vicinity who’s just had a stroke or heart attack, does it really make sense for me to be relaying the details twice, taking up twice the time during which the stroke/heart attack/gunshot/knife victim oozes her life force?

Maybe I didn’t have a time sensitive, life threatening emergency but it’s still a waste of effort and time to have to relate information to an agency or person who will then do NOTHING with that information. It’s not like it’s even a satisfying rant to complain to a Statie on the phone.

Still, this morning I did what Skip Gates and Peter Watts, and hundreds of drunken college students nation-wide obviously have no problem doing. I mouthed back to a cop. Ok, so it was from the relative safety of my anonymous cellphone and I left everyone’s mother out of it.

“Umm, do you really have to know this? I mean it’s a waste of time. The State police won’t be responding to this. Could you just put me through?”

I don’t even remember what he replied but I stood my ground and prattled on about wasting time and not relevant and having to repeat it all ‘til I wore him down. Then I told my story to the Boston dispatcher. I don’t know for sure but I hope they didn’t do nothing with it.

Lines of Information

Overheard on the morning commute:  "...cause when it's real cocaine you don't see that shit".  What shit?!  What shit?  I'm still wondering what shit but thought it more provident to roll on by rather than stop and ask.

From the Women's Room

Photographic irony not intended.  Or is it?

This was a nice thing to find inside the stall door.  Graffitti used to amuse me as I relieved myself but stainless steel deters it.  And of course I had to check out operation beautiful. 

Where's Your Cart?

From Boston Recycling:

"Where's Your Cart?  We noticed that you did not have your new recycling cart out and would like to encourage you to join the thousands of residents already participating in the 'Recycle More' program.  You can fill your cart with the following items:...."

This is the little note that the Boston Recycling  people have bothered to leave two weeks running (this week in full color) in my mailbox.  The cart in question is a huge monstrosity of a trash can which I believe is intended to promote single stream recycling.  Why can't I just single stream recycle in my small easy-to-carry-up-and-down-three-flights-of-stairs-even-when-full portable blue bins?  Which is what I will continue to do.

The big cart does have two advantages:  wheels and a lid.  The wheels though don't make it any easier to maneuver up and down that last flight of steep granite steps and I don't really have the space for it alongside the house.  The lid is great for those windy days when most of the recycling in my small bins gets blown around the street.  Still, a lid does not a recycling bin make.

Many of my neighbors have resorted to the big carts but I'll stick with the smaller bins.  They're more manageable.  And it's rare that I have so much to recycle that even a quarter of the big cart would be full making it just that much more inconvenient to haul such a small load in such a big container up and down the steps.

It will take more than big carts to promote recycling among those who don't do it.  On trash days I am appalled at the volume of perfectly useable, clean stuff (children's toys and furniture, mostly) that gets kicked to the curb and not the recycling bin.

Maybe recycling only reinforces or pardons the mindless consumerism that got us into this trashy mess.   Remember, it's reduce what you buy and re-use all you can,  first.  Then, finally, recycle. 

Copley BPL: Turn Down the Bleepin' Thermostat

Unfortunate that the city is planning library cuts.

I visited the Copley branch today to see the wonderful Man on the Street photo exhibit (free!) and another on Poe (free!) which I couldn't peruse as carefully as I would have liked because I thought I would pass out it was so bleeping hot in there.  Seriously, it was ridiculously hot - which in a public building is fiscally irresponsible.

The library could save millions if it simply turned down the thermostat several notches.   Even then, the environment would be warm but if they were uncomfortable with cooler than tropical conditions, librarians might be willing to don a sweater, or even a scarf and some fingerless gloves if it meant saving a colleague's job.

I'd be willing, as neighbor Mary Ann Nelson suggested, to pay ten bucks for a library card but only once I'm sure they're not going to squander it on improvident heating expenditures.

T Door Stoppers

There are only three reasons why anyone should stand in front of the door on the T.

The first is that the car is packed and there is absolutely no other place to stand.

The second is that you know that the door in front of which you stand will NOT be opening at the next stop so you will not be getting in anyone’s way.

The third and final reason for standing in front of the door on the T is that you will be exiting at the next stop and are in front of the door to expedite not impede the process of getting off and on the train.

Oh, wait, there is another reason that someone would stand in front of the door on the T. Hmmm. What’s the best way for me to articulate it? That reason would be that the person standing in the doorway is really stoopid and/or really rude.

The people who ride the T: another reason to avoid using it whenever possible.

The Common Word Cafe Open to the Public

The Common Word Cafe in the mosque has been open to the public for about a month now.  All are welcome.  They offer coffee, tea, panini, pastries, and wifi.  To get to it through the front entrance of the mosque, go though the lobby and it is on your right.  From the parking lot in back of the mosque it is in the door on your left.  It's a really comfortable and lovely space to hang out.

Hours are Sunday through Thursday 11 a.m. - 8 p.m. and Friday and Saturday 10 a.m. - 9 p.m.

neighborhood vision this saturday at the mosque

Roxbury's
Highland Park
Community Vision

Join us, to continue crafting
the vision and strategy for our
neighborhood's future.

8am to 11am
Sat, 20 Feb 2010
Common Word Cafe
100 Malcolm X Boulevard

Questions?
call/email Simon Hare
617-620-6730
simon@ourhighland.com

Organized by
|Your Neighbors

Highland Park Settles. We Hope.

Never doubt that one negative person can frustrate an otherwise productive and fruitful neighborhood conversation.  It happened last night when about 30 of us at a community meeting (open to anyone in the community who cared to attend) talked with Darryl Settles and his architect about his (yay!) plans for 85 Centre Street, Legends on the Hill.

Like the "conversation" on national health care, so much of what has informed the conversation on Settles' proposal has been a "keep your government hands off my Medicare"  kind of misinformation.

So, to the facts. Settles is in the process of buying the lots and hopes to close on the property by mid-March.  The building on the site is structurally unsound and will need to be razed. What he rebuilds is dependent on whether or not he gets a liquor license but will be mixed use (yay!!).  The options are ground level commercial space with 6 one-bedroom lofts above or ground level commercial space with 2 two-story lofts above or an open work space concept which would be available during the day to members and in the evening become a restaurant/cafe.  This venue will not be a nightclub.

With a capacity of 125, the restaurant/bar will be reasonably priced, family friendly,  and would be open 'til midnight or one on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.  It would close earlier on the other nights of the week.  As far as the 2 a.m. liquor license, Settles said he is "only guilty of asking for everything but not expecting to get it all".  In a perfect world he would love to keep the place open til 2 (making for a healthy and viable business) but he always realized that those late hours were unlikely in our neighborhood. He is undertaking this project on his own and without partners.

The reasonable concerns articulated repeatedly in the neighborhood and in the ether:  increased noise, traffic, and shifting plans for the space.   Those can and will be addressed.  Even without Settles bringing a business here, parking is a problem for some and that problem is being discussed and solutions are in the works. Living spaces above the commercial space insure state of the art soundproofing. Plans for the space are a process and will morph over time as the neighborhood voices concerns and Settles hits the inevitable snags inherent in any project. 

The unreasonable concerns articulated in the neighborhood and in the ether:  bringing in a restaurant/bar will bring in Sodom and Gomorrah.  (Yeah, like they're not already here).  But to say that a Settles business will bring mayhem to the area is like saying bringing in the Newport Jazz Festival is going to attract a Woodstock '99 crowd.  It isn't logical and it isn't true. It's a red herring diverting attention from productive conversation and negotiation.

Which brings me to the It Won't Work Here person.  Everytime that person's mouth opened, Armageddon flew out.  "This never worked and that never worked and this won't work and that won't work and this isn't fair and that isn't fair".    Still, though that person worked really, really, really hard to drive us all to thoughts of suicide, the group voted by an overwhelming majority to support Settles in his pursuit of a liquor license contingent upon his attendance at a meeting, "facilitated by Chuck Turner, with immediate abutters to discuss his detailed proposal,  and all options for 85 Centre Street".

That Settles will be developing the property is reason to rejoice.  As one neighbor pointed out last night, a new building on the site rids the neighborhood of that piece of urban blight and heat trap that is asphalt.  The final project will have its opportunity costs as does every decision we make in life.  It won't be perfect.  But neither is what we have now.  It's time to progress to a different type of imperfection.

Bye Bye (sob), Sleep No More

The Punchdrunk contingent left the country in mid-November after entrusting their work to competent American performers and managers. Now, after a month long extension, SNM is staging its final Boston area performances this weekend. For those of you who missed it, you truly missed a once in a lifetime experience. (Performances have been sold out for weeks now and good luck getting in standby. Last weekend, people started queuing at one o’clock in the afternoon to try to get in). Their work is venue dependent so even if SNM is performed in another place at another time, it’ll never be the same. Like sex and really good food, maybe the best art is ephemeral, several intense exquisite moments and then, aah, aah, ahh! it’s over. Just an exquisite memory.

WBUR did a story yesterday morning about the “greening” of the new MFA addition and an MFA curator said “art preservation is a race against time”. Is it still art once it’s been preserved? I mean the art that serves a greater function than adorning an empty space on a wall: the art that gets people talking (about more than how much a piece has sold for) and arguing and engaged; the art that inspires a multitude of emotions, not all of them pleasant. Uncertainty, awkwardness, and fear as well as euphoria, curiosity, and a dreamlike whimsy were all part of the SNM experience.

SNM was not just a theatrical experience it was that kind of art: engaging and inspiring. Every dressed room at the Old Lincoln School in its degraded 5 month old form continues to be a morphing, living art installation, an art installation that can be smelled and heard and touched and swallowed. But the experience doesn’t end when you exit the building. There is so much to discuss: what you saw, what was done with you, where you went, who was that character?

Diane Paulus, ART Artistic Director, deserves kudos for bringing this show to town. She has said that she was working in London when she first heard of Punchdrunk. She’d go into Tesco and the store clerks were talking about Punchdrunk and the professional theatre people she was working with were talking about Punchdrunk: everybody was talking about Punchdrunk. You can’t help but want to talk about the performance after you’ve visited one. And you can’t help but want to go back.

A rather buttoned-down work colleague went with his wife and 15-year-old daughter who doesn’t usually talk much to them. The daughter spent the ride home, and time in the kitchen when they got home and more time the following day talking to her parents about SNM. The work colleague was delighted to have some (rare) rapport with his teenage daughter. I gave birthday tix to a friend who became obsessed (like me) and attended four performances. Many people donated their time for free to steward performances several evenings a week. It’s that kind of inspirational and I feel honored that I got to be a tiny little part of it.

I know my hometown can be a bigoted backwater but for this past Fall, at least, we were host to something magical and transcendent: the thrill that participation in grown-up make-believe can create and the vivid memories it leaves behind.

Thanks, Punchdrunk. Please come again!

Thank You, CUJP!

Walking home last night I passed the Cambridge United for Justice with Peace, Area Four Neighborhood Coalition, and Veteran's For Peace people in Central Square.  They're out there on the corner of Mass. Ave.  and Putnam every Wednesday, bless 'em.

They were distributing  leaflets with a quote from Howard Zinn from You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train  And here's that quote:

"To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic.  It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.  What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives.  If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something.  If we remember those times and places - and there are so many - where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.  And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future.  The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."

Amen.

Pedia

The thing about the old school Encyclopedia Britannica,  as unwieldy, monolithic, exclusionary, and “biased” as it was, is that is was (is?) stable, erudite, abiding, and consistent. Which is a good thing –until it isn’t. If I looked up Roxbury, MA in my imaginary old school EB a year ago and then looked it up again today (assuming that the EB contained an entry for Roxbury, MA which it may not have done but that’s another rant) the entry would have remained the same. Even an updated edition would have most likely have included a nominally edited entry.

Not so in the ever-shifting, dependent on who's-taking-the time-to-write-it-today world of The Web, or, more specifically, Wikipedia. A year ago, the entry in Wikipedia under Roxbury, MA included the casual observation of "generally acknowledged to be the most dangerous part of Boston" - which statement made me so mad I almost opened a Wiki account so I could edit the stupid piece. "Generally acknowledged"??! By whom? And on what shoddy believe-everything-you-read-in-the-papers basis?!

Today, however, the entry is shiny, happy and gleaming with lots of good history but no mention of danger, just the dewy-eyed promise of (ugh!) gentrification in the Fort Hill section of Roxbury, which statement I find just as offensive as the one of the other extreme. Here's a direct quote:

"The Fort Hill section experienced significant gentrification when college students (many from Northeastern University and Wentworth Institute of Technology), artists, and young professionals moved into the area in the late 1990s and early 2000s. In the present day, there is much commercial and residential redevelopment."

Since when do college students and artists qualify as gentry? Artists live in areas that are not gentrified or upscale, because as the lowest income earning group of all educated people, they can't afford to live in gentrified areas. And neither, might I suggest, can most students.

Commercial development? Some of us are begging for it and others prefer to keep this nook sleepy but the only commercial development here are the airy sandcastles in the Wikipedia writer's dreams.

(No, I don't want to open a Wiki account and edit it. I'd rather use it as fodder).

And so here we run into the biggest problem of The Web: any nincompoop can write any unsubstantiated drivel she likes and many people will not only read it. They'll believe it without investigation, without corroboration, without thinking. Oh, wait. That's not The Web: that's people.

85 Centre St. Beehive Collapse

This is 85 Centre Street, the site of what many in the neighborhood still hope is a possible Darryl Settles development project.  It's not made of cinder block, but brick.   Columbus Ave. brings up the rear of the parcel.

The plan was to raze this building and, using the two adjacent empty lots, build a lounge/restaurant with 6 condos above it.  Mixed used development:  urban sustainable living at its best.

The listserv hummed for a week with people stating reasons (mostly)  for and (some) against the proposal. But what was initially a high quality debate on quality of life issues precipitated by development, gradually degenerated into a tussle over whether we should call the district Fort Hill or Highland Park. Sigh.

Many are disappointed that they're forced to spend their disposable income in other areas and would love the opportunity to drop it here, at a righteous Darryl Settles jazz club. I'm particularly disappointed because I've watched as slimeballs buy and ooze their way into the neighborhood while the legitimate ones, like Settles, are shown the door before they step on the curb.   I'd gladly trade the very quiet but illegal and way overcrowded boarding house across the street from me for a mixed use condo/jazz club development, in a finger-snap.

Why DO People Vote Against Their Own Interests?

This is a question that, living in the good ol' US of A, I ask myself regularly during elections. I asked it several times a day while Dubya enjoyed his eight year reign. It has particular saliency now as the current health care "debate" rages, literally.

Universal health care is a no-brainer. Full stop. Yet the people who have the most to gain from a public health care plan show up at Town Halls apoplectic with fury and brandishing signs reading "Keep your government hands off my Medicare" (Medicare being the government funded health care option for the elderly and disabled poor).

Finally, the BBC is offering an answer.

RIP, Howard Zinn

The Globe's obit of Howard Zinn, the man who made the people, not just the popes, patriarchs, and politicians, active agents of history, is horrendously ironic because it includes quotes from interviews with lots of local celebrities and not a single quote from a "common" man.

Guess the guys wrote the obit hadn't read the book. Or maybe they prefer to thumb their noses at the idea that made Howard famous: ordinary people are just as important as everyone else.

Beehive in Highland Park?

The neighborhood listserv is buzzing about 85 Centre Street. Darryl Settles, co-owner of The Beehive and founder of the Beantown Jazz Festival wanted to bring in a restaurant/bar to the address.

On Tuesday, the licensing hearing was slated for 10 a.m. at City Hall but in the wee hours before that hearing “the applicant (the Telsa Group/Darryl Settles)” withdrew “the application for a license at 85 Center St. at this time in order to conduct further community outreach." Three neighbors, according to Mr. Settles, within view of the address had successfully lobbied against the proposal.

The good thing is that this topic has generated a huge, polite neighborhood discussion. Many opinions are conflicting but people are civil. And it is pretty obvious that there is far more support in the neighborhood for this project than Mr. Settles believed.

The arguments against the project? The usual: noise, traffic, more people. Noise from traffic and people. People walking. People laughing as they leave the decent high end restaurant/jazz club after having a good time. In short, detractors fear the very things that are part of sustainable, stimulating, appealing urban living.

I, too, might be one of these people if I suspected that this restaurant was designed to attract a student crowd. Students drove me out of Symphony Road, they drove me out of Mission Hill. I tired of their drunken all night shrieking, their vomiting on my doorstep. Besides, I get my dose of drunken shrieking from the folks who frequent Fernandez liquor store and hang out in Cedar Park. But just as The Beehive and the jazz festival don't attract an immature, irresponsible clientele, neither, I believe, would this project. There will be naysayers regarding any thing new, but a decent food and music emporium for a mature clientele is a great way of providing an economic, social, and cultural boost to any urban neighborhood - especially this one.

Highland Kitchen in Somerville is a fabulous place in a really dense neighborhood with virtually no parking (six spaces, I think). It’s got great food and a great atmosphere and there is no increased “violence, drugs, brawl, out of town gangs, late night brawls, noise, traffic, pimps” as one of my Highland neighbors wrote he feared a restaurant/bar would bring. Scores of other sophisticated neighborhood joints could be added to the list of well run businesses that enhance their districts.

While I appreciate the concerns of the people opposed to the project, I can’t help but believe that much of that concern about the proposal is less “cautionary dissent” than reactionary fear and a provincial NIMBY-ism. Mr. Settles has a great track record as a good businessman. Given the chronic unemployment faced by the young people from this area, it is shameful to me that we dismissed him without any discussion or attempt at negotiation.

Just as I was finishing this piece, I spoke on the phone to Mr. Settles. I had called him to express my support and he was gracious enough to return my call. He said he has decided to abandon the 85 Centre Street project because it was a risk not worth taking when faced with such a negative reaction from a few people near to 85 Centre. He has many other opportunities. His advice was not to let die the conversation that we, as a neighborhood, had begun.

This project was a job-creating enterprise which would foster mingling and help boost the reputation of a misinterpreted neighborhood. The next time such an opportunity appears, at the very least I hope we discuss it  before driving it away.

Everett and Roxbury

I love my neighbors. Some are easier to love. There's the older woman on my street with a heart as big as her two-family house. I really love her. I mean really. She's one of those people I'd want to have at my if-you-could-have-anyone-in-the-world-or-from-history-to-dinner-who-would-it-be? dinner party. She's pushing 80 and has suffered some serious health problems recently but she is absolutely gorgeous, with her mocha skin and amber eyes, both inside and out. She is really easy to love cause she just vibrates love so all you have to do is reflect it back to her.

Anyway, during one of our chats, she asked where I grew up and I told her Everett. So she laughed and said in her big love way, "Oh, Everett! When I think of Everett, I think of the country!" And I just laughed right along with her.

But it's funny in so many ways that aren't even remotely funny. Everett. Blue collar, working class, white - at least through the 70's. When I was growing up we ridiculed the Italian immigrant kid in school because he couldn't speak English. We also made any substitute teacher who entered our class for the day weep. Any substitute teacher. When I was growing up the Orange Line still ran into Everett and as little kids our moms would dress us up to take the train "into Town". And we never ventured into Roxbury. Ever. It was "other", dangerous, to be avoided.

And then my family moved out of Everett, to a bedroom (yuck) community. I was sent to a Catholic girl's school (yuck, again). One of my classmates was an extremely voluble, round girl with really bad acne who wound up going to Wellesley College. One day in science lab, I let voluble girl know that I'd grown up in Everett, not in the bedroom community (what the fuck does that mean, anyway) where we were living. She was horrified and let loose, volubly, a string of stereotypical insults disguised as good humor. I don't remember the specifics but I do vividly remember the import: Everett was "other", dangerous, to be avoided.

Until voluble girl edified me, Everett was just home, the place where I grew up and where all my extended family still lived. The only knives I had experienced were the ones used to cut food and I didn't know anyone who had been a victim of violence. Voluble girl had the same impression of Everett that many foreigners have of the US and that many metro Bostonians have of Roxbury: that there's a gunfight on every corner and someone waiting with a shiv just inside your front door.

College and travel around the world broadened my perspectives. After Wellesley, voluble girl got married and had kids. My money says her perspectives stayed the exact same. She had formed her opinion of Everett based on...I'm not sure what. The hatred and vitriol of family and friends who could best elevate themselves by disparaging others? Simple ignorance? Intellectual laziness? Social and political systems better served by dividing people rather than bringing them together? A combination of those and other factors?

Whatever misguided ideas voluble girl had about Everett, I carried with me about Roxbury. Until after college and travel when I worked here. I realized what a beautiful, historic place it is and how my impression of it had been distorted by a combination of many factors, the most powerful being my willingness to believe what is not really the whole truth. I chose to live here.

I'm not ready to share with my dear neighbor whom I love dearly that Everett is not the country. Maybe I'll just throw a dinner party there and invite her.

Archeology of the African Meeting House -Dig It.

On 22 October 09, Dr Cheryl Laroche and Dr. David Landon spoke at the African meeting house about an archeological dig there. What I learned that I'll carry away forever: "self-emancipated". People who escaped the shackles of bondage were self-emancipated, not runaways.

Boston Highlands Hero

While Dudley might be a detritus disaster, we here in the Boston Highlands benefit from the tireless efforts of neighbor James Hudson.  Now in his 70's, he'd tried sitting in front of the television all day when he first retired but it drove him crazy.  So he started doing work around the neighborhood, cleaning up public spaces that needed cleaning and pruning and mowing and sweeping and raking.

A patch of greenspace on Rockledge St. stays marvelously manicured but, unlike all of the city designated parks, I never noticed city workers in it.  Later found out it's James who takes care of it.  Cooper Clarke community garden on Linwood benefits from James' willingness to work as hard as he can from sun-up til sun-down.  His own garden patch is always perfectly maintained and he trims and edges common areas in the rest of the garden area.  To the best of my knowledge, he's not paid for the work but derives satisfaction from having a meaningful way to pass the day.

Roxbury's 380th Anniversary

State Rep. Byron Rushing kicks off the first of a four-part spring history series with a talk called "Everything you always wanted to know about Roxbury's history." Organized by Discover Roxbury.

Thursday, February 4, 7:30pm-9pm Free and open to the public.

Haley House Bakery Cafe, 12 Dade St

Learn about Roxbury!  You know you want to....

And the Haley House is a wonderful cafe.

The Pendulum Swings

Nine fifteen p.m. and it looks like Brown won.  My only consolation is that he'll be a one-termer (just two years).

And Martha is out of touch with voters if she let this one get away from her.

But the American electorate is so predictable in its constant, inexorable anger.  If the Republocrats are in power, they will feel the full fury of the electorate's wrath!  The Democricans, likewise, will be shunted aside if they happen to hold the reins when bad things are happening to good people!  And if, gadzooks! someone should question the efficacy of a political system which is nothing more than a swinging pedulum, crucify him and blame him for the Democricans/Republocrats seizing power! 

Vote

It's this important.

Ceremony

Read it.

Not So Filthy Lucre

The problem with money is not that it is dirty but that it is quite the opposite. Money is a sterilizing, homogenizing force in the world. Singapore is the perfect example of this. The twilight tranny parade has been replaced with avenues of all the exact same store you can find in every other metropolis in the world. Why go to Singapore for The Gap? Or Moscow for MacDonald's or Paris for Starbuck's? Just stay home godammit, if familiarity is all you're looking for.

But you don't have to go to the other side of the world to witness the homogenization of culture. It's right here in Boston's South End. I don't think there's a MacDonald's and the Banana Republic is in the Copley Square mall, known as Copley Place. No there's a homogeneity of sensibility and I don't mean a homo-sensibility. Fagolas in the South End keep it a tad interesting. And all the boutique stores, restaurants, and bars are better than the international chains, if unaffordable. And that's where the South End becomes dull. The people there are either really affluent yuppies or public housing denizens. So there's predominantly this really comfortable, hip yet dull, middle-American ethos that permeates the district. And I don't want that coming up into Dudley. Give me Rozzie Square with its myriad small mom and pop businesses (a butcher shop, several bakeries, cafes, fish market, wallpaper and paint store) or Union Square (same deal) instead. I prefer funky, authentic, immigrant, diverse, and varied to a whole slew of upscale.

But the tentacles of the South End are pushing to breach Mass. Ave. In some cases they have. Restoration Resources is one business that is a sign of this breach. The store is actually kinda wonderful. They are an architectural salvage business, taking useful and beautiful materials from places that are run down or about to be demolished (I assume) and selling them. There are old mantelpieces and windows and chandeliers - all very shabby-chic. The cradle to cradle people have to love the concept but the prices are anything but sustainable - unless you're getting a Goldman-Sachs type bonus. Or aspire to.

Ok, ok. So I like Restoration Hardware and I'd prefer businesses like them in my neighborhood over The Home Creepo anyday. But is the gouging really necessary? Isn't it possible to be interesting and affordable at the same time? I think what rankles as much as the homogeneity of culture is the concomitant brainwashing: money, style, status uber alles. Yawn. How boring.

Filthy Dudley

Walking through Dudley Square yesterday I was struck by how FILTHY the streets were - strewn with garbage and trash of all kinds. Dudley Main Street Director Joyce Stanley works really hard for the businesses of Dudley, trying to build up the district. Not really sure what the businesses do for themselves - except for complain about how no one is doing anything for them.

Businesses of Dudley: get out there with brooms and trash bags, daily! Clean it up! And if you need help, once you've demonstrated a willingness to help yourself, I am certain the good people of Roxbury, would be happy to chip in during a twice yearly Clean Dudley work day.

I am tempted to pull a Mike Dukakis myself (god, I love that man) and walk through the square the way he walks through the Fens on his way to work at Northeastern: with a big trash picking up waste as he goes. And when one congratulates him for taking initiative, he'll just say something like the work starts with us, or you've got to be willing to do it yourself and not leave it to someone else. I forget what he actually said but how can you not adore a man who walks the talk.

Trust in a New Year

So I’m walking on the Northeastern campus and it’s deserted because of the holidays when a kid of about 12 approaches me.

Excuse me. Do you have a phone I can borrow? I’m supposed to meet my cousin and I have no idea where he’s at, he says. Can I borrow your phone to call him and find out where he is?

My first thought is, poor thing, so I say sorry sweetie I left my phone at home (which I had) but maybe we can figure something out. For a second I think I’ll tell him to look for a pay phone and give him some change but I don’t think there is a payphone anywhere nearby. Are there payphones at all anymore? And there’s a Northeastern college student walking toward us listening to his iphone so I stop him and say excuse us do you have a phone we can borrow. He, I say, gesturing toward the kid, needs to make a call and I don’t have my phone. And the international student takes out his earbuds and turns off the tunes and loads the phone app and gives the phone to the kid. So the kid dials his cousin and that’s when the little hum which I had been ignoring turned into a buzz and I thought, oh, shit. This kid is playing us and is going to run off with the international student’s phone and it’ll be my fault. There was no real reason for me not to trust the kid. Though his request was a little unusual, it seemed more ingenuous than conniving. But that’s how they get you isn’t it?

As the kid is talking to his cousin I’m getting nervous because time has slowed and the conversation seems to be taking an inordinately long time. It wasn’t, it just seemed to be. I start carefully edging closer to the kid thinking if he tries to bolt with the phone, I’ll grab him by the hoodie and he won’t get far. The international student and I stand watch.

The kid gets off the phone with his cousin and says Burger King. He’s at Burger King. He hands the phone back to the international student. Do you know where that is we ask him? No, he says, but it’s easy enough to give him directions and he goes off on his way.

Thank you, I say to the international Northeastern student. Thank you very much. That was really nice of you. And he nods and goes on his way probably thinking easy for you to say, lady, it wasn’t your phone at risk.

Boston Public Market

http://bostonpublicmarket.org/