Roxbury: Jamaica Plain's Older, Badass Brother

DigBoston is a free newspaper with a ton of ads which centers purely around "events, humor and nightlife." But every once in awhile they put on their serious hats and do a serious story just so they don't forget what it feels like to have their words taken seriously.

When I was assigned to cover a Roxbury town discussion over a Walmart moving in to the poor Boston neighborhood, I expected to write an unconventionally humorless story. I'd have to inject a few harmless quips per order of my editors, but I didn't think I'd be moved at all. Instead, I soaked in the energy of the community meeting, and the people's refusal to admit the need for an abusive conglomerate in their neighborhood. Something sparked in me, and soon I was paying much more attention to the oft overlooked section of Boston.

Roxbury is poor, but it's not without its vibrancy. As much as I cringe each time someone in Roxbury runs out in front of my car--with children in hand--I receive more from their polite, thankful hand waves (for not plowing through them) than I see when I drive through the straight laced, uptight jerk squads of the financial district in downtown Boston.

I've definitely been paying more attention to the Rox since I visited them and heard some of their most prominent voices. And though the neighborhood is still two miles down the street from me, I've felt a growing urge in the past few months to leisurely hop on the T and see what's going on. I'm sure I'm not the first curious white boy to be thinking these thoughts, but I think I know what's kept others from actually going and checking things out.

The numbers say it plainly, and Roxbury is one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. But if you're walking around during warm daylight hours, enjoying Dudley Square, you have nothing to worry about. Any poor community that rejects the promise of a Wal Mart could use my business, and they certainly deserve to be recognized for the one of a kind shopping experience that every Boston neighborhood can boast.

Sharpening the Teeth of the Commuter

"City driving? Yeah, I know how it is. I drive through Lowell all the time." No, you don't know how it is, until you've driven in a real city.

Living and working around JP has proven to be a double edged sword when it comes to mode of transport. When I finally have to hoof it to work, class or internship, I've discovered a strong appreciation for my Honda while also fostering a great frustration with pedestrians and drivers.

Thanks to the ancient lineage of Boston's city planning, many of the city's streets were once horse paths strewn willy nilly, and defy all logic as the paved streets they are today. Take Shawmut Avenue in the South End for example, which is a one way street which suddenly reverses direction for two blocks, and then goes back again. Streets like these mean very tightly cramped cars going down single lane roads with zero wiggle room.

Pedestrians see how short of a skip it is to cross the street to the coffee shop and often decide to strut--aloof--across the street without looking. I have to kick my brakes to avoid running over no-look, suicidal pedestrians every single time I drive through Roxbury. Pedestrians in Boston are immensely too trusting, putting all responsibility for their life in the hands of the driver hurtling toward them. They know the cars will stop for them, because vehicular homicide charges are a bummer.

We'll see how much of a safety handle I have on things when I'm zombied through finals week and my two thousand pound car is purely an extension of my calcified and burnt out brain.

Sauntering in the South End

An internship at DigBoston is one of the biggest things I was hinging on when deciding [on a whim] to move to Boston this Summer. Luckily it worked out, and not only am I learning immensely how to function as a new media journalist at the HQ of the free arts & nightlife weekly newspaper, but I'm getting my first taste of the South End.

What a rich little neighborhood. This is where the 30-something dudes seem to be going to work. Yuppies is a good way to put it. They seem nice enough, but they're in their own little world. The South End is never crowded with foot traffic, but you still get to see these dudes walking around in pairs or by themselves--perfect posture and with plenty of hair gel--on their way to work. I prefer the homeless dudes who ask me for money outside the Dunkin Donuts and The Bostonian, a convenience store I go to that makes great, fresh deli sandwiches.

courtesy of Yelp.com

Emilio's. This place is a bit of a walk from my work, but I'm down with their pizza slices. Pepperoni is made fresh here, and I recommend a sample to anybody. It's right across the street from The Beehive, and the BCA; one of the best bars in Boston, and one of the best theatre venues in boston, respectively. On any night of the week, you walk out of either of those places and Emilio's is a warm cradle of cheese and grease. Cheers to warm cheese cradles.

Transplanted

 

A few months ago, I moved my whole situation to Jamaica Plain. It was a bit of a traumatic disconnect, but well overdue. I went from the gray death of Lowell to the slightly less gray death of JP. Living near Roslindale and the officially Southern end of Metro Boston, the poverty and obvious gentrification hits you a bit like a brick. On our move in day, a shark on a bike scoped us out to see what we were moving into our place. Certain people from the community like to watch the white people move in and see if they're bringing in HDTV's and such, I learned. They sometimes break in and snatch those valuables at a later date.

But the Arnold Arboretum was the first to save the sunny disposition I desired to have in my new place of residence. This big, green man-made forest and tree conservatory in the middle of southern Boston blew my mind, as I didn't know it existed before. A bit of a love note to my new discovery can be seen in a mixed media documentary I made, and that will come soon.

Cheers to new places, and all the have to offer.