It seemed that this corner of the Bronx was destined to be a burnt offering whose ashes would be swept away from the earth and our consciousness. Yet it survived, thanks to scrappy community advocates like Mr. Jacobo, church groups that organized tenants and housing programs that spurred new construction. The modest homes and gardens are the surest signs that after years of abandonment, this neighborhood is poised to rejoin an increasingly immigrant city that, in the latter part of the 90's, is itself enjoying the bounty of more jobs, less crime and growing optimism. But now there is a return to green. We're seeing things return to the way it should be.
Some people cling to memories of the old neighborhood, loving it for what it was.
I cherish this patch of concrete for what it has dared to become. In the 1960's, my parents and I lived at 785 East 181st Street, a yellow-brick apartment building on the corner of Mapes Avenue. The voices of many nations had long echoed here, once home to Irish civil servants and Italian shopkeepers, among others. Children played soccer or stickball in the streets while parents lounged on stoops. That vanished in the 70's, when the fires came and forced another migration.