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Living up to what I was thinking when I was talking with Uncle Lloyd, I gave up my morning ritual of the New York Times and Michael Enright to hop on the M-3 bus to do a family heritage wander.

I reckoned that I shouldn’t consign certain areas of balamer as no go zones especially as there are people who live in them and most of them as honest as the “safer” areas.

Because this was a proper wander ™, Joãozão came along with a leiquinha for colour.

Proud of myself as I checked the bus schedule on line and arrived at the stop as the bus was pulling up. Again magnanimous to a fault the MTA allowed me to travel for free.

The closer I got to North Avenue and Pennsylvania, the more jittery I became – I didn’t give up my coffee – but that didn’t stop me from thinking of expanding the walk down from Mondawmin to bring in the entire Baker Carsley Clarke Davis compound off at Gwynns Falls over to Bryant Avenue down Reisterstown Road to Fulton Avenue then finally to the original starting point.

Thought better of it as I do get carried away and I had to be back before Sunday Morning was over on the television.

Fears assuaged when getting down at North Avenue a person selling the Sunpapers said hello and began to chat almost losing a sale in Pennsylvania Avenue. Crossed and walked.

In Mount Street, was what I would see most of the walk, a nice block that would be in hundreds of thousands if it were in South Balamer, Fells Point or Canton but here one was sold for $5000. Turning the corner I ran into a house that should have been boarded up on a block that after the alley was trying its best to be clean and tidy.

Didn’t know how people would take to me making snaps of Nana’s house which proved that the street was a neighbourhood as there was a chair beside the steps. Cannot remember if I used a leiquinha or Joãozão, think it was the latter as I had two images left and didn’t want to waste have to call attention to myself changing them on the block.

Walked up Westwood past Uncle Lloyd Clark(e)’s place. Changed the film at an alley entrance trying not to succumb to the urge to veer. The area is great as while there are streets at right angles they are cockeyed with the Charm City grid there were all these areas of great potential.

But I was on a wander, I wasn’t trying to prove that I could meander about the area, I was to prove that I could walk between my grandparents’ homes. I needed that focus to keep up with he bravery for the horror stories I have heard about Sandtown and Upton, weren’t completely disavowed.

It was hard not to walk down the alleys here as much as in East Balamer property lines barely contain what is in the backs of houses and here with odd rear configurations were a blend of things and the formal.

Turning down Cumberland, those people who were out on their stoops would stop and watch me down the street again with mutual suspicion.

Became more angry east of Pennsylvania where again here were these neighbourhoods where if they were anyplace else would be worth ten times what they are. The same marble steps, the same bay windows, the same people trying their best to have the names of their neighbourhoods mean something.

I also noticed the amount of churches in the area. It seems that the poorer the neighbourhood the more plentiful the churches. Wondered also about faith and what it was to come of it when all one had to do was look about them.

Surprisingly there weren’t the amount of taverns that I was expecting. There were more – taverns not pubs – in the successfully rehabbed parts of town. There were more package goods shops though.

Here however there were a higher percentage of boarded houses – some scattered among the inhabited ones some an entire block across the street. People here along Division would greet me and seemed less nervous toward strangers.

My time in more civil and less suspicious places had my guard down. In Islamic Way there was an rc-d sanctioned snap that had to be made – three folding chairs at the edge of the square. The last snaps on the roll I headed for the doorway of a masjid. A lad watching me as I approached I asked if I could stand in the entryway while I changed film – it was mauzy and it had started to drizzle.

He smiled then said - I’ll ask my sister.

I then remember that here you don’t speak to children, it is seen as a threat by their parents. He sister came out not much older and I repeated what I had said to the lad. She had thought that I wanted to take their snap. Said no simply change film. He said he saw me take pictures of the chairs. Mentioned that my family had lived around the corner upon which he told me where he lived. Looked about for parents for i now was fully aware of what is fed to people about strangers. Loaded my camera and head on my way.

I walked the 1500 block of Doodle Hill slowly I knew the where the Davises were but only remembered that the Clark(e)s lived a couple of house north. I could tell that I was nervous –not sure why – as I over documented the block, down the marble steps the entry ways, up the marble steps. Someone passed, slowed a bit, lived at the end of the block, looked back, mentioned that my family used to live here. She could care less as she was yelling to someone on he third floor.

Now that I did the walk it seemed no big deal and had no clue what to do next. Turned down Moser Street, thinking of heading over to where my father used to work but again I was diverting off course and if I went that far… decided that I would walk up Pennsylvania Avenue to North – and continue on to Mondawmin no! no! focus! - and catch the bus back.

It seems that I was correct to come early, it was now 10 and Pennsylvania Avenue was getting more crowded, a lot of people with drinks in paper bags. Didn’t feel threatened but again this would be what the news would show as a neighbourhood in decline.

The sad thing was this was the perfect place for me to photograph, there were a lot of shops locally owned shops, meaning a diversity in the window displays. While people were happy at Target was going into Mondawmin, I was glad that there was no McDonalds on the Avenue.


Was brought back to reality passing a vest pocket park dedicated to people who had died due to drugs. A wake up call in theory that became real when attached to the bench in a slo below the seat was a book of writings from people who had come to commemorate or confess. Read a few then felt like I was intruding – but not to the extent that I didn’t make a snap.

Discretely headed down Broom Street for a block until some who was ranting to himself passed.

Ended up closing the circle at North and Pennslvania after photographing a small church, taking another free bus ride courtesy of the MTA.