Driveby bye to the old neighborhood
After nearly seven years of living in Lynn, hearing all the 'Lynn, Lynn, City of Sin' jokes, explaining to all our friends and family that we were in a 'nice,safe' part of the city, and mentioning how the city is undergoing an urban renewal, my wife and I packed our bags and left in February. Since our move, there have been three murders in our old 'nice, safe' neighborhood. Then today comes the latest bit of crime news from the Diamond District. Listening to WBZ during my lunch break, I hear breaking the breaking news - a road rage incident in Lynn, a mother and son shot.
How close will this one be to the old apartment? Here it comes...
Bingo!
Nahant Street - our old street itself.
Since our move, the only place our neighborhood has been quieter than is the Sunni Triangle. Still, in the almost seven years we were there, I swear Nahant Street was a safe place to live. Sure, there was the house that got firebombed down the street, but come on, Lynn and arson go together like peanut butter and jelly, Abbott and Costello.
But that's all in the past now. Instead of trying to convice people that we really don't live in a gang-infested, firebug loving semi-ghetto. If anything, it's now a 180 reaction I get when I tell people where I live.
Oh - you live in the Farms.
I gave Carrie some grief for telling people we lived in Beverly Farms when we first moved, rather than keeping it to the more proletarian plain old Beverly. But after all the bloodshed in our old neighborhood, I don't hesitate to say I live in the Farms.
Maybe I'll even run for a seat on the West Beach Corporation.
How close will this one be to the old apartment? Here it comes...
Bingo!
Nahant Street - our old street itself.
Since our move, the only place our neighborhood has been quieter than is the Sunni Triangle. Still, in the almost seven years we were there, I swear Nahant Street was a safe place to live. Sure, there was the house that got firebombed down the street, but come on, Lynn and arson go together like peanut butter and jelly, Abbott and Costello.
But that's all in the past now. Instead of trying to convice people that we really don't live in a gang-infested, firebug loving semi-ghetto. If anything, it's now a 180 reaction I get when I tell people where I live.
Oh - you live in the Farms.
I gave Carrie some grief for telling people we lived in Beverly Farms when we first moved, rather than keeping it to the more proletarian plain old Beverly. But after all the bloodshed in our old neighborhood, I don't hesitate to say I live in the Farms.
Maybe I'll even run for a seat on the West Beach Corporation.
posted by endangered coffee at 5:37 PM
