Tear It Down

When I bought my house in 1996, the neighborhood was called "transitional" by those with hope. Home to crack dealers, vagrants, and thugs, it was not even close to perfect. But it was in my budget and my 1919-built house felt like home the first time I walked in the door.

In fact, the houses of the neighborhood were the reminder of what used to be and what could be again. Not so grand as those to the North and to the East one block away, these houses still had good lines albeit obscured by peeling paint and sagging gutters. They had character.

Slowly, house by house, one new neighbor at a time, improvements began to outweigh neglect. In fact, my street is now charming. Cars slow down to eye the real estate for sale -- the same cars that would have driven quickly down the street with doors locked a decade ago. It feels good when a house sells for three times what I paid.

This week it feels even better. The one remaining eyesore is gone. No more boarded up, rodent infested, rotting building in our midst. The city finally followed through and tore the wreck down. My neighbors and I watched the building come apart without a fight, not quite believing it was really happening.

I kind of hope they leave the steps.


Tell all your single friends, my neighborhood is now officially awesome.


XO, JamieSmitten