My Downtown Gentrification

I'm reading a book right now that is concerned about "authenticity" with regard to cities and living areas. The author, to an extent, decries change--how a city neighborhood will be taken from the underprivilidged, gentrified (and made safe for artists), and then eventually built over with chain stores and facilities for the very rich. Part of me, though, is skeptical of the whole idea of "authenticity" in a city; cities change always. And this move between these three levels waxes and wains. I'm thinking about three city blocks that were about two blocks from an apartment I lived in for thirteen years. When I first arrived, we called it the "tri-bar" area, because there were three bars there. It was on the west side of downtown, separated from the busier part of downtown by a bank and a church. On the east side, students roamed; on the west side, mostly townies hung out.

But that in and of itself was a creation of sorts. The area I'm thinking of was once known as the Hot Corner, because at one time it had been a vibrant pocket for African American businesses. These historic businesses still hung on in the form of a black barbershop and a soul food restaurant when I moved here. The rest was either abandoned or moving into that gentrifying state--as artistic folks moved in (downtown's migrating music scene). In earlier times, apparently, this part of downtown had had a coffee shop and a furniture store--both were gone when I moved here (though another coffee shop did move in--and out--during my thirteen years).

Now, those abandoned buildings are gone. The working-class businesses have begun moving out--gone are the bike store, the appliance store, and the car repair shop; one of two thrift stores is gone. Nine bars now exist where there were once three; there is another music club, and there is a movie theater. Where once there were two restaurants (one of them soul food), there are now seven restaurants. (The number of restaurants, bars, and clubs is a bit fluid, insofar as some bars serve food and some have music, so some venues could be classified two or three different ways.) High-cost clothing boutiques have appeared. And two new multistory office buildings have been built. Chains haven't moved into the area yet, but they have moved into other sectors of downtown--the migration, I'm sure, will begin eventually. And even parking, which used to be abundant and free is limited and costly.

But what is to say that this downtown is less authentic or more than the one that existed previously? Sure, I miss the quieter west-side downtown with its three bars and its abandoned storefronts and empty parking lots, the feeling it gave me that I was one of the locals who cared about such places. Now, a larger crowd is moving in. So what? And sure, rents are probably rising and things are becoming more expensive, and eventually, some of those small businesses will close and be replaced by chains or high-cost merchandisers, and this part of downtown will lose some of "its character." But it's lost a character before--when black-owned businesses shuttered and white folk moved in. It's simply part of how neighborhoods change. A person moving to town now might well lament all the businesses that closed or changed hands within this three-block set ten years from now too--its loss of "character."

The map below shows how these three blocks looked when I moved here on the left; the neighborhood as it stands now is on the right. Blue represents new businesses (if a new bar or restaurant opened in the location of an old bar or restaurant, it is blue also).

More interesting to map might be Washington Street between Holliston and Allen, in California, where I grew up. When I was a kid, it was home to a number of thrift stores, local businesses (radio repair, bakery), used bookstores, oddball eateries (nonchain fastfood), and Armenian shops to which I never ventured (delis, groceries, repair shops). I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I think that area would have been rather neat and funky, and I'm sad I didn't venture more often into some of those odd stores. Of course, I was a kid and not terribly adventurous, nor did I have much money to spend or much reason to spend it on many of the things on offer. When I last returned, in 2010, some of those businesses were still there, but many had been replaced--with cafes and other fancier/gentrified fair (and some businesses simply didn't need to be anymore, technology having moved on). I figure I'd have really liked said neighborhood now, were I living there as an adult--and a single. (As a married man with family now, I find myself returned to my childhood proclivity to stay home rather than venture out--I'm poor again and often the family or wife doesn't want to go out when I do, even when we can afford it, or doesn't want to go to the same kinds of places--kids, I find, love chains, much as I did, whatever is familiar or advertised heavily.)

The Washington Street area reminds me of the Normaltown area of the town in which I live now, though the Washington Street commercial district seems much larger. Normaltown would be another interesting one to map, though I don't know that I could map for certain all the businesses that were there when I moved here. There was an Army-Navy thrift store, a small local hardware store, a Pizza Hut delivery outlet, a local Mexican restaurant (the best in town), a Mexican grocery, a gas station, and sundry other little shops that have rotated in and out over the years (Asian grocery, scooter shop, computer repair shop, thrift store, church office); there were also a bar (Foxy's) and a bar and grill (Allen's). The building in which the latter two were housed was knocked down, and the businesses relocated elsewhere before closing forever. In place of that building, after years of fighting with community boards and residents, a new office building is finally going in. Meanwhile, that little sleepy part of town with largely local businesses is becoming what the west side of downtown used to be: there are now three bars in the area (two of which feature music, one of which features food), and many townies now venture there instead of downtown, and the place continues to hop into the early morning hours. A coffee shop has opened; a fancy bakery has moved in. The Mexican restaurant and grocery are still there, and some of the small rotating businesses too (computer repair). But Pizza Hut is gone, and I fear the hardware store and/or Army-Navy store's days are numbered.

My Life in Weeks

So I came across an interesting Web site that breaks down people's lives in weeks. Looking at the charts on there was sort of humbling, seeing how short our lives our and how long periods of time are really just a set of weeks that we string together.

Having looked at those charts, I figured I'd do my own. First, I plotted out some major points in my life--beginning dates were circled. That kind of points out important times, but to get a real feel for how long certain things have been as relative to my whole life I opted to color the squares.

When I do, some things become really evident. I've been at my current workplace a long time--longer than just about any other string. I have been there longer than I went to grade school through high school (when I add in college, however, I have still spent more of my life in school than at my current employer).

If I look at the color blocks at time in particular states, the blue is formidable, but it still has a long ways to go before catching up to what the California bar would be--pretty much all the boxes before the yellow section. But if I put the yellow, green, and blue together--time out of California--it looks like more time than I've spent in Cali. That's an illusion, caused by how much I've broken California time up. Still, I'm getting close; give it three more years, and I'll have been out of my birth state longer than I was in it.

School life it appears still takes up more of my life than work-only life, but if one considers that I was working during the time I went to college, then the story is quite different.

Anyway, below are the charts.

Walkability Scores of Places I've Lived

I'm not sure I completely agree with these scores, but there's some truth to them. Somehow, though, my Mississippi residence felt more walkable by far than my Texas residence did. And while my new Georgia residence does lack for walkability, in many ways it feels more walkable than Texas did. I think it comes down to how at home one feels in a location as well.

Amount Saved by Place of Abode

I wanted to see how much each place I've lived has contributed to my savings, as it's likely I'll spend down much of this in the upcoming year. Here's the amount compared by percentage:

The amount I lost in Mississippi isn't surprising, except maybe in the fact that it was so little: I was in graduate school and had to live very cheaply. Texas didn't treat me very well, it appears, as my nearly five years there actually led to a negative cash flow balance.

Roaches Spotted September versus October

I've lived in this apartment for ten years and have generally only had about five or so roaches a year, but I had an infestation this past summer. I'm not sure why or how, though I suspect it may have been the lack of a harsh winter. It's been a pain trying to get rid of them.

In early October I took a vacation, left the apartment for a while, left no dirty dishes in the sink. I was wondering whether the bugs would proliferate without my active presence looking to kill them or if they would die off without my constant feeding of them through cooking meals and such. It looks like it was the latter. (The x axis is the day [1st day of survey in September versus 1st day of survey in October, etc.], the y is the number of roaches.) Since October, I've only found about one per week or so, still higher than I'd like.

Floor Plans of Places I've Lived

I've recently been working on a story that involves much attention to the rooms of a house, which has gotten me thinking a bit about the floor plans of the places I've lived. So here that are, from oldest to most recent. The house I grew up in worked around in a circle of sorts. It's not quite to scale, as none of them are. My bedroom was the smallest, but its smallness here is a bit exaggerated by poor drawing.
The first apartment was pretty swanky, what with a wet bar. Unfortunately, I never stocked it. I was underage for much of the time I lived there and too poor for the rest. I kept motor oil and stuff like that behind the bar. Unfortunately, the place smelled of cats, a smell that never went away. It was located in a pretty nice part of town, not far from the south end of a fancy shopping district and from my job.
The second apartment was a weird one full of octagonal rooms, much smaller--the smallest place, in fact, that I've ever lived, though it's kitchen was more generous than any apartment I've had since.
The third apartment was pretty nice, though smaller than the first. It didn't really offer a place for dining, though.

The fourth apartment is more of a studio efficiency than anything else. Its main advantage is its location.

Places I've Lived

Last weekend, I went to a housewarming party for a coworker of mine. She moved actually right down the street from her previous address. The house features two bedrooms and a study (I suppose it could also serve as a very small third bedroom). This got me to thinking about the places I've lived, which since the age of four (that is, since the age that I can remember) have been just five places in four states, three one-bedroom apartments, one two-bedroom apartment, and one house. Put it on a bar chart, and where I've lived looks like this:



Or orient it another way, and the chart looks like this:



Either way, it's interesting to see that I've now lived longer in an apartment than in a house. And soon, I'll have lived more of my life outside of California, my birthplace, than in it, though California still trumps all other states in terms of individual time spent.