There goes the neighborhood

Greg and I live in a pleasant suburban neighborhood, the sort of place where when people come to visit, they tell you how well they slept because it’s so quiet. It’s not the most exciting place for a pair of 20-somethings though. (OK, so Greg is an old man now, but he was a 20-something when we moved in.) We have friends who live very close to downtown, and we talk wistfully about moving closer to the good restaurants and the entertainment venues.

But our house is the perfect place for kids, a good place for Eleanor to grow up. We’re on a corner lot, and across one street is a park and swimming pool; across the other is an elementary school. By all accounts, this is a safe place to live.

And I read about some scary places to live when I’m at work, neighborhoods plagued by drug dealers and robberies. The other day, we had a story about a woman who has been charged with running brothels in town. Police say she might have been bringing in illegal immigrants to work in the brothels.

At the end of the story, we named the street she lives on. And it’s four blocks from our house! She lives in quaint, boring suburbia. What else is going on out here that we don’t know about? I’m not sure whether to be dismayed or happy that we would actually have a valid excuse to move.