My neighbor is selling his home, and he can hear potential buyers chatting through the Nest microphone at his front door. “It’s nice…,” they say, “but it’s such a shitty neighborhood.”
I look around my “shitty” neighborhood. I’m a block from the public library, the supermarket, a pho shop, and a teriyaki/doughnuts/laundromat. Two blocks away is the pharmacy, the dollar store, and a taco trailer.
One neighbor has parked his BMW in front of my car on the street in front of my house. They’ve had the top down for hours. Across the street, another neighbor is wiping down his boat. There are 6 bus routes that take you into town, and a train station that’s a 10 minute walk. There’s a view of Lake Washington.
I’m pretty sure that “shitty neighborhood” is a code word. Wiki says that this is one of two majority Black neighborhoods in Seattle, and white people are a minority at 10% of the population.
My neighbor felt bad about hearing “shitty neighborhood” from his front door; he says he always felt safe and included in this community.
I didn’t know what to tell him; I was grateful that those people didn’t want to be in my neighborhood. Que se larguen. Maybe there’s a Suburban Lifestyle Dream they can go believe in.
I have plenty to blog about and plenty to do. Lately the new home projects have been taking up most of my time; floors, stairs, fireplace wall, area rugs, furniture… In my down time I play with my new baby niece, who is a champ. I’ve started writing that blog, but I can’t land the plane. Maybe I’ll focus on more vignettes like this one.