by Marina L. Carrucciu-Parker
I recall warm summer afternoons, scavenging through huge, unfenced back yards and long winding alleyways, searching for that elusive treasure, empty soda bottles. I could get one cent for each bottle returned, back in ‘69. With sweat pouring down my face, I would drag my gym bag full of clanking containers up the wooden steps of Bartoni’s corner mart. Once inside the tiny store, I would observe, with FBI skills, as each bottle was taken out of the bag, examined, and counted. I had already decided what I would get with my 30 cents: “Five yard-long licorice whips, four watermelon bubble gums, and two baseball jawbreakers.” With satisfaction not experienced since the wooden horse entered Troy, I would lie against the cool marble fountain in front of the used comic book store, savoring each delicious bite.
It’s a bitter thought that most of today’s city kids may never experience such simple, inexpensive childhood joys. The new millennium neighborhoods don’t hold such treasures. New subdivisions issue forth like untamed weeds, crowding on top of each other, struggling for light.
Alleyways can still be found, but rarely in new developments, as builders try to squeeze every dime out of each inch of soil. Neighborhood stores are disappearing; thrashed by strip malls and gas station mini-marts, whose neon lights blast at motorists from every corner. These malls have room for cash, cars, and carts, but not for kids. The cars zip dangerously close, and the signs blast at them from above:
No bicycles, no roller blades, no skateboards.Area parks still exist, but in a minimalist form. City planners count mini-parks, measuring less than an acre, as recreation sites. I remember backyards being that big, just a few years ago. According to the City of Phoenix’s web site, there are slightly over 200 parks, some of the "mini" variety. Given a population of over 2.1 million people, that’s about one hundred thousand persons per park. Please, don’t mind my foot in your hotdog as we enjoy our mini-park. Obviously, I’m not counting hiking trails and rock faces as neighborhood parks, since the cacti tend to make touch football more pain than gain.
Sadly, there is little to gain from today’s new generation neighborhoods. They are more like nameless hotels than homes, devoid of the originality, warmth, and community that helped previous generations grow. Today’s faceless neighborhoods do little to enchant the young; they frequently serve as little more than shelter for the adults, and do nothing to beacon either group back, once they move away. Backyards where families played ball, threw water balloons, and raced around sprinklers, have now been replaced by small, concrete patios. Kids gather in malls, not parks. Tree-lined streets have been supplanted by gray, lifeless rows of garbage cans. Even the last bastion of our own individuality, the personal mail box, has been sequestered in metal enclaves, far from our front door.
But why are parks, good neighborhoods, and a sense of community so important? According to the Carnegie Council on Adolescent Development, “Young adolescents need: opportunities to socialize with peers and adults, opportunities to develop skills that are relevant now and in the future, opportunities to contribute to the community, opportunities to belong to a valued group, opportunities to feel complete.” Adults are no different. We need to be a part of something, before we care for it. How can we build ties to carbon-copy houses, strewn with abandon across lifeless streets?
Fortunately, it is not too late to change what has been built. We need to cut corners, literally. Corner lots normally get minimal yard, and maximum traffic. By changing how we manage these corner lots, we would enhance the feel, and sense of belonging to our community, and create the "renaissance neighborhood."
Renaissance neighborhoods would use the four corners to the benefit of the community. One lot would be used as a small park with covered slides and swings, so children could enjoy fresh air, regardless of rain or burning sun. Kittycorner to the park would be the community hall, where big-screen TV sports games, billiards, bingo, air-hockey, crafts, and charity events could be enjoyed by all. Across the street, a marble fountain, surrounded by park-benches, would entice young and old alike to sit, talk, and dream of past and future endeavors. But the nurturing center of the surrounding homes would be the community mart. There, folks would find a lot-sized store, surrounded by a garden patio and umbrella-covered tables. This neighborhood meeting place would house a small coffee, soda, and ice- cream shop, along with supplying the neighbors with convenient place to drop off, and pick up parcels. But more important, the community mart would perform double duty as a mini-station for police officers, where they too could meet the neighbors, work on their reports, and teach safety classes. Store owners could opt to live above the store, a la San Francisco, or have a home in the neighborhood.
Since a "neighborhood spot" would never be more than two blocks from any home, parking would not be an issue. But to help slow down traffic and let the people, not the cars, run the neighborhood, stop signs would be erected on each corner, while tree-lined medians and bricked traffic circles would be built to reinforce courtesy.
Each renaissance neighborhood spot would have its own motif and style, blended into the neighborhood and enriching the surrounding homes. People would have places to go, to meet each other, and to share community pride. Postal workers and police officers would become part of the life and flow of the neighborhood. Kids would have places to play and be a part of their community’s pride. Memories would be built, coffees would be shared, and dozens of ice cream cones would be eaten while swinging high above park benches. Couples would walk down to the fountain, gaze up at the stars, and listen to the water streaming over remnants of whispered wishes. Across the street, parents would pick up birthday parcels, greet the mailman, and share a story or two about their child’s latest accomplishments. Life would be brought back into where we lived.
Home would be more than the walls that close us in at the end of a long working day. The renaissance neighborhood would be a place to treasure, a place to remember, and a place to relish a bounty of sweets, bought at the corner store, on a hot summer afternoon.
Marina Carrucciu-Parker is a freelance writer and Internet researcher. Her passion for writing spans both the creative and technical genres. Parker says she loves exploring new forms of written communication, as "the joy of writing fills me with such a sense of exhaltation, that no other passion compares."
