It’s the first day of spring, time for me to reawaken from my winter hiatus. Not that it’s exactly t-shirt and shorts weather just yet. It’s been a brutal winter. Spring is going to take awhile to fully get here.
Out with the Big Guy and the Medium Guy this morning on my usual walk. There’s been some small progress on the blight removal train, at least on the blocks I walk. Several houses gone, quite a few now tagged for removal soon. Keep in mind that ‘soon’ has an ambiguous meaning in the D. It could be next week, next month, next year.
A thought that often occurs to me while out and about in Brightmoor is the sheer number of houses that COULD have been saved if someone had acted quick enough. To be sure, there are quite a number that weren’t worth saving at all, likely even when they were occupied. Many of these puppies were built at the turn of the 20th century and many were not well cared for, especially toward the end. And then there are all those 50s toss-ups that appeared like mushrooms after a rain.
I’ve kept track of the number. 28 so far. 28 houses that could have been redeemed, become homes again instead of ruin porn. The house I bought is an example. Another year empty and it would have been ruin porn. There are two little cinder block bungalows across the street that could have made nice little places for a young married couple. Even now, one of them is savable. Indeed, there are 4 savable houses that I can see out my window as I write this.
No one will, of course. Just as a line of houses over on Dolphin will meet the reaper and lose. Nice houses, once. Solid. Old time craftsmanship, not the shoddy crap you find in the housing tracts out in the burbs, the ones all the white folks fled to when escaping the D.
Idiots. Three hundred thou for a pile of wood and bricks that will begin falling down around you in 10 years when for what you’d pay for a used car and a bit of hard work could get you a house that would easily last another 50 or more.
