Broadhead Manor

What's worse than this is when a entire neighborhood is wiped out!! I grew up in Broadhead Manor. My grandparents were one of the first Black families to move in this neighborhood built for specific tenants. The structure of these now demolished units were so very unique for the era. My grandpa who was from Jamaica kept his home emasculate growing a rose bush the would bloom so beautifully every summer. The awning that provided a cool shade was always clean and grandma kept the windows with a sparkle! As children we played innocently every season with siblings and neighboring kids with no color interference! As times changed so did our neighborhood. So sad it was to watch the shift in neighbors. I had zero knowledge at the time what was happening but I remember being called a nigger and also getting punched in the face because i didn't fit in the change. My dad was in our lives as were other fathers. The people moving in were angry and they didn't like the move to a place filled with unfamiliar sights. Could you blame them. I did! I blamed them for bringing such rage into a place that was my home. I had to adjust to what seemed to be the enevitable end to a life filled with such beautiful memories. I watched how homes were occupied more by or less like what I had been accustomed to. No more rose bush! I moved away and a new shift surged upon the neighborhood impacting lives and taking them away. A entire generation flipped the hood with its undisputed need to be arrogant and forcefully intruding into a social climate unfit for any human being seeking peace. See Broadhead Manor had been a forgotten place no real support by the city. There were those who tried. Moving back for a temporary measure till I who now has my child to raise could not bear the burden of making a difference. My people didn't want to change...I had to leave even with the pathetic plea to stay. I moved on. Driving through once brought tears to my eyes..no grade school where my mom was PTA driven, making our costumes for the Christmas plays or for Halloween. Where I once played the cello. Gone is place where I wrecked my stepdads car and where my dad pared his beautiful convertible (Chevy). Only remnants of the corner where we once hung out. The Salvation Army the place where it was a Sunbeam and mom taught dance lessons. Where the fine boys came to the dances. Where we sat and remember our brother.
My place of peace, my place of childhood memories gone! i want this place rebuilt knowing that memories will be memories. Not what is now piles of rubble and warehouses! If they care they won't let this happen again to another neighborhood