written August 20, 2005
Downtown Dallas has slowly been withering over the past decade. My father says that Dallas died on that fateful day that JFK died. Since then, it has lost its shimmer and has become home to a wide array of the homeless, and while some people are afraid to venture out onto the streets, I find that the buildings of Downtown still have character. They have their ghosts too, I’m sure. I always feel strangely nostalgic as I pass through the streets of vast buildings, but barren streets. There’s something that calls out to me from the cracks in the pavement, from the old buildings with fire escapes and the strange man at the corner who screams out prayers as you walk by. No matter where I go or where I live, Dallas will always be my home. I know this in my heart.
Lately, I notice that the city seems to be trying to renovate certain areas, and I have to smile and think of what Dallas will look like in ten years. After a doctor’s appointment last week, I drove down Live Oak, the street that my father used to live on in a delapidated and crumbling old house when he was a child. The old white house has since been torn down, and an empty parking lot reigns over the soil now. I became quite emotional when I looked across the street at the beautiful new townhomes and lofts that are being built. What was once one of the worst and poor neighborhoods to live in has become something new and beautiful, and I felt my mouth drop open in shock and tears filled my eyes.