See you around the ‘hood

 

The main entrance to Lily B. "Sweet Lily B." Clayton Elementary School
Oh, how many times I've climbed those stairs!

Neighborhoods are on my mind tonight. Today was the absolute, drop-dead deadline for the July issue of the Poobah, the newsletter for the Berkeley neighborhood which I edit. (There’s a story about that name, a clear reference to Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Mikado where the Poobah is a self-important person—the name was first a joke for the newsletter, but then it stuck.) Tonight was also the quarterly Berkeley Place Association zoon meeting. So neighborhood has sort of taken up my day.

Fort Worth is, to me, a wonderful city, a wonderful place to live. But I am struck by the diversity of neighborhoods, the way each neighborhood has something to distinguish it. We all come together as citizens of the city, but many of us also have strong bonds to the neighborhood in which we live.

I first moved to Berkeley in the early ‘80s, fresh from a divorce, with four children. We lived in an absolutely charming house on Warner Road, with such Mediterranean touches a arched doorways and parquet floors. Never mind that there was no closet—I asked the seller where he would put the vacuum if he lived there—and only one living room. The kids and I couldn’t both have friends at the same time. I was a single mom in a neighborhood of “typical” families—Mom, Dad, and two kids. While I never felt ostracized, I never felt at home either.

We moved to a larger, ranch-style house in Westcliff, a neighborhood designed in the fifties to break the stereotypes of straight streets and small bungalows. Our sprawling house was on a curved street that wound through a neighborhood of similar houses. My brother lived down the street, close friends a block away in a different direction. I didn’t discover the importance of neighborhoods then either.

But in 1992, a sprawling house was too big as the kids started to move out on their own. We moved back to Berkeley, to the property Jordan, Christian, Jacob and I still occupy. By then I had friends in the neighborhood, and within a few years, I found myself editing the newsletter, a job handed down by good friend Mary Dulle. I began to learn what neighborhood is really about.

Editing the Poobah is pro bono work. I’m a firm believer in giving back to society in whatever way you can, and this volunteer job is the perfect way to use what skills I’ve developed over a thirty-plus-year career in publishing and as an author. It is my way of giving back. But it has many rewards. After who knows how many years I feel fully integrated into the neighborhood. I don’t know everyone in our 604 houses, but I know a lot of them. And I am friends with many. I get emails from contributors who obviously think they know me and want to chat about the newsletter, the neighborhood, whatever. Oh, sure, I get some complaints—once someone suggested I should include more city business and fewer recipes, but we get city news through our syndicated newspaper, the Star-Telegram, and more effectively through our independent newspaper, the Fort Worth Report. There are a lot of good cooks in this neighborhood and a lot of families to be fed—I figure bringing them together is a service of the newsletter.

So is presenting pups from rescue services who are in need of a forever home. I try to feature a pup each month, but of course I want to bring each one of them home (shh! Don’t tell Sophie!). The July Poobah will have a budget report, a breakdown of how many houses have paid dues, an article about the goals of Fort Worth Report, a letter from our association president, advice from a local vet about pets and Texas heat, and a review of a new grocery/restaurant. My goal is to make it a mix of neighborhood news, like cheers to residents who have done something special, and city news—restaurant reviews, zoning disputes (oh that endless short-term rental business) and similar things.

Each neighborhood in our city is distinguished by something—perhaps a fairly homogenous group lives there or the architecture is all the same or there are landmarks and a fascinating history. I think Berkeley is distinguished because, like Park Hill, it sits above the zoo (which causes us horrendous traffic problems every spring break) and by it’s elementary school—Lily B. Clayton, one of the city’s most diverse and forward-looking, successful elementary school with a rich history, including its architecture. It also has a fiercely loyal group of parents/fundraisers (we share the school with the Mistletoe neighborhood).

If you want to know more about Fort Worth’s neighborhoods, I suggest you read the Fort Worth Report on Mondays. Each week, they feature a resident from a specific neighborhood, writing about why they love living where they do.

Me? I’m rooted in Berkeley, in my little, cozy cottage. What’s special about your neighborhood?