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AMERICANWAY
NOVEMBER 15 2008
ILLUSTRATIONBYAMANDADUFFY
Coen brothersmovie?What if he has awood
chipper in there? Worse, what if he is into
slasher films and, as soon as we open the
door, his goon pals tie us to chairs and hop
aroundwhile saying, “C’mon, lemme knife his
eyeballs out”?
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s take a look.”
He pushes off the car, fumbles with a set
of keys, and unlocks the door.
I BROUGHT TIM
to this neighborhood to
show him the house my wife and I hope to
buy. It is a couple of blocks away.
Around here, the shops are not all shiny
and the streets are not all clean. Storefronts
sag. Empty lots pockmark a dollar-store
streetscape that evenwithout the blemishes
wouldn’twin any urban-designprizes.
It is a “glass half full, half empty” kind of
area.A studydone for thecity says theneigh-
borhood is coming back and enumerates all
sorts of impressive projects planned for it.
That study came out in 1983.
That is the half-empty part.
The half-full part is that in the last three
or four years, a few things actually have hap-
pened. A couple of nightclubs have opened.
A good, moderately priced restaurant and a
well-reviewed high-end restaurant have got-
ten a toehold. At least three independently
owned coffeehouses have started up.
When you are looking for a house, as we
have been, you consider things like schools
and restaurantsandbookstores. Youconsider
how youwant to live.
Whatyoumaynotconsider, notconscious-
ly anyway, is who you are. Or, perhaps more
to the point, who youwant tobe.
We, apparently, want tobe younger.
This neighborhood bristles with youthful
energy. There are theaters that book edgy
plays. The coffee shops all have flyers tout-
ing socially conscious causes. The clubs get
thehippestbands,mostof themunknownbut
with an ardent fanbase.
Whenwe began our house hunt, we didn’t
intend to live in this area. After our first
couple of visits, I didn’t want to live in this
area. Its past was too evident, its future too
uncertain.
But we fell in love with a corner town-
house that was offered at a good price and,
little by little, we found ourselves falling for
the neighborhood too.
With someareas, youknowpreciselywhat
you are getting. That, in fact, is one reason
you choose to live there. You knowwhat to
expect.
Not thisneighborhood. Thisone is, toput it
charitably, awork inprogress.
Sometimes, you pick a neighborhood;
sometimes, a neighborhoodpicks you.
Itwill be interesting tobe young again.
THEGUYSLIPS
a key in the lock and opens
the door. My vision of what the insidewould
bewas completelywrong.
Anyvisionwouldhavebeenwrong. For the
interior is being completely renovated. Walls
havebeen removed, thereare sawhorses, and
lumber is stacked in piles. Upstairs, the false
ceiling has been removed and lamps hang
from the high actual ceiling.
Ithas, as theysay, goodbones.Youcansee
that it is on itsway tobeing something.
“So, whattaya think?” the guy asks. “Wan-
nabuy it? Lease it?”
Yes, I do. I envision opening a little res-
taurant ormaybe a bookstore. I daydream of
possibility. Looking at it, halfway done as it
is, its owner hopeful, I realize that I am in a
metaphor for the neighborhood itself.
Tim and I go back out to the street, with
its old lots andnewwinebars. The “glass half
empty, half full” feeling is a good one, a feel-
ing that anything can happen.
By JimShahin
ON THE CORNER,
a slight, goateed man
wearing an untucked, loose-fitting button-
down shirt open over a T-shirt eyes my pal
Tim andme.
“Hey,” he says. “Wanna buy some
property?”
“Excuseme?”
“Lookin’ tobuy?” he asks. “Lease?”
I play along.
“Whattayagot?”
Henods towardacoupleof low-slung two-
story tanbrick buildings.
“Yours?” I ask.
“They’re mine,” he says. “Wanna buy?
Lease?”
What do you say in these situations? Not
that thereare “these situations.” I havenever
been in one of these situations.
“Not really,” I reply.
Unfazed, he leans up against a car.
“Yougotmoney?” he asks.
“Money?No. Not tobuy abuilding.”
“Check it out,” he says and nods again
toward the buildings. “What do you think’s
inside?”
“Inside?” I query, trying not to sound in-
trigued, even though I am dying to see the
inside. “I have no idea.”
“Guess,” he says.
“I dunno,” I begin. I consider the types
of interiors I’ve seen in the area. “Scuffed
hardwood floors, exposed brick walls, low
ceilings?”
He doesn’t say anything, just gazes word-
lessly at the buildings.
“So,” I ask, “how close am I?”
The guy lets the question linger in the air
awhile.
“Wanna see ’em?” hefinally asks.
Do I wanna see ’em? Of course I wanna
see ’em.Whowouldn’twanna see ’em?
A sane person, that’s who. I mean, isn’t
this just a little weird— a guy on a corner,
asking if Iwant to cop some property? Since
when did such come-ons stop being about
watches or contraband?
What if this guy fantasizes of being in a
Whata
WonderfulDay inthe
Neighborhood
