Worse our bar, the Harvard Gardens was serving Fine Craft Beers to a clientele that would have shrunk away from my companions and me.
The Single Room Occupancy flophouse that I frequently had called home was now an upscale residence for college students. Lots to remember, all the buildings were there, but nowhere was there a sign of the old Beacon Hill. It had gotten sanitized.
The only familiar face I saw was the very much older Luigi at Luigi’s store on Grove. He studied my face, smiled, grabbed my hand, and said: “Hey, the five bucks you owe me. You got it?”
It’s nice to be remembered.
2 Replies to “Gentrified”
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You have a gift for re-telling parts of your life story such that I feel like I was right there or a part of it!
The Harvard Gardens, eh?! Would have love to have been a fly on the wall there.
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It was one hell of a place. The sanitized version was very uninspiring. In New York We’d have called it a dive bar.
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