A Southie Story

I would be lying if I said I was not at all influenced to move into South Boston by watching "Good Will Hunting". The same goes for "American Pie 2" and my topless Ford Bronco. But what really brought me to Southie was that it was the neighborhood of my origin. My mother spent the first 2 years of her life in a project on D Street, and before that, my grandmother in Old Colony. I grew up visiting Castle Island for a burger from Sullivan´s or a baseball game at BC High, but never to see where my family called home. Up until a couple of years ago, the truth of my roots was kept secret from me. Maybe it was the fact that the west side of South Boston was the poorest white neighborhood in the U.S. until the late 90´s, or it was possible that the stories from that setting were tucked away and suppressed deeply in my mother´s memory. All I know is that my mother had a difficult time understanding the irony of me looking for a place to live in the neighborhood her family had fought so hard to get out of.

It took me awhile to find a place with three bedrooms in the right part of town, but we settled in a weathered, green triple-decker on M Street overlooking a park where dogs and their owners socialized and cleaned up feces. What sold me was the all-wooden kitchen, decorated in pub green and stained plywood , leading out to the back deck with a beautiful view of Boston´s skyline. We lived here for over a year, only a short walk to The Boston Beer Garden and Murphy´s Law, a sanctuary for recent university graduates to get away from home and relive college life. Our days were short and our nights long, there always seemed to be something going on. Whether it was a Sunday afternoon Pat´s game, a Red Sox playoff, Harpoon Fest, or a night singing karaoke at The Farragut House, people seemed drawn to our new place. At the time, it was frustrating because of my new lifestyle and career, but looking back I wouldn´t have wanted it any other way.

About 3 miles west was Upham´s Corner, Dorchester. This was the commute I made every weekday from September to July barring a holiday or the occasional snow day. I had become a teacher, and with it, accepted the responsibility of aiding the development of children ages 10-15. That year I taught reading, language arts, science and religion. I taught these subjects as one of only 15 white people in a community of about 150. The other 13 were other teachers and administrators, and the last 2 were the only white students at SKS. It was quite the experience being the minority in an overwhelmingly black community. My homeroom was comprised of about 15 6th graders; Rindal, Ibrahima, Miguel, Benhur, Fast Freddy, Tijah, Elizabeth, Aysha, Diana, Jelani, Jasae, Brittany, and Trisha amongst others. At other points of the day I would also teach grades 5, 7, and 8. To them, I had a few names to my knowledge; Mr. L, Mr. Lovetear, and Mr. Loveman, which was adopted by a group of my friends. I taught them the best I could with the materials I was provided, but my lessons were focused more on character development. I was not yet equipped academically, but I felt I had collected enough wisdom in my first couple of decades that I could impart some on them. I threw footballs to the boys at recess, set up a basketball hoop on the playground, and listened as they taught me their worldview. I was fascinated by the different cultures that comprised this ecclectic crew; Cape Verdean, Hatian, Jamaican, Honduran, Puerto Rican and many more. I watched as a group of these kids were ultimately raised by the white, Catholic women that put so much love and attention into their teaching. They didn't know anything different. I was their youngest teacher by 15 years, and only the second male teacher these kids ever had. I really like to think that I learned as much from them as they did from me, but isn´t that what education should be about?

This was also the period in which I met my current girlfriend Christina. We met through the business and romantic venture of my friend Greg. Without revealing the details of a separate story in and of itself, we didn't start hanging out right away. Instead it took an independent backpacking trip to Europe to expand my mind. I returned, saw her walkingthe one afternoon, and a few weeks later, on my 24th birthday, we started dating. She stuck with me that night when most of my other friends were busy doing their own things. We swayed together at Trinity late into the night, 2 weeks later jumped out of an airplane, and soon after shot our first machine guns. We were partners in crime in training and Southie was our playground.

I cannot even begin to express the amount of new friendships I made during this time. It was easy because South Boston began to resemble college 2.0; a city filled with recent graduates looking to launch careers in their respected professions. Many of my friends who had previously hesitated at the idea of moving away from home now started to matriculate into the city. We lost Colin to marriage but we gained access to a new group of characters who had graduated from BC High the year after Colin and Greg. Our new roommate, Ryno, stepped into Colin's role perfectly and we continued exactly where we left off barring one minute detail; we had to find a new place to live.

Again, without providing any revealing details, a visiting friend caused a bit of a scene one night, which acted as the final straw in an ongoing series of unfortunate conflicts with our aging landlord. We were provided an eviction notice the next morning, which caused a brief heart attack and a pressing need to find a place to live. As fate would have it, we found that place after we had just about given up hope at a local barbershop. It was the first time I had been there, and after some chit-chat with the Italian barber, we had a new elderly landlord, this one of Mediterranean flare. We moved our things to 19 Ticknor St. and made a new home between the L. Street Tavern and Bath House of the same letter. From there, more and more characters entered our lives as the city of South Boston recycled its tennants every September. I continued to work in the Catholic Schools of Dorchester and life got easier as I settled into a routine. Another year passed and I began, once again, to crave the sultry taste of change. I moved home this past February to pay off credit cards and save for my next adventure. This change would prove to be far different...