Her father and I rented an apartment in Bolton Hill. She was delivered at Mercy Hospital. She's a Baltimore girl, born and raised: trips to the Walters, visiting Santa at the Inner Harbor, walking everywhere or taking the bus.
Fully and thoroughly educated in Baltimore:
- Bolton Hill Nursery
- Grace and Saint Peter's School
- Bryn Mawr
- Baltimore School for the Arts
- John Hopkins Unuversity
Today, on her thirtieth birthday, I marvel at the fact that she has cast her lot with us in Columbia. She and her husband own one of those classic Pacesetters in Oakland Mills and they are continually tweaking it. Well, perhaps that's because they are continually discovering things that need fixing. Home ownership is an ever-unfolding adventure of home repair, after all.
My city girl has dreams for Columbia that are worth dreaming. She wants to be able to walk more, not just along wooded pathways but also to shops and pubs and local events. She wants a vibrant night life and more theatre. She wants us all to embrace ethnic, cultural, and racial diversity more and care about almighty housing values less.
In thirty years my Baltimore City girl has ventured beyond her home town to England, Ireland, and Quebec. She could have gone anywhere, settled anyplace. But she chose Columbia. She became HoCoHouseHon and joined the blogging community. She participates in a local CSA, votes in local elections. And she knows her neighbors.
My daughter is a continual reminder for me that the dream of Columbia is not in its past. History is important, to be sure, but the future is a place populated with people younger than I am. And her dreams are worth knowing.
So today I celebrate that day thirty years ago. And I celebrate the fact that I get to spend so much time with someone whose perspective is so different. It is truly a gift. I highly recommend it.