Anspaugh Ave, Bellevue Kentucky
Friday is Garbage Day in Bellevue; that makes Thursday night Garbage Eve.
I feel at home and comfortable in Bellevue. More so than anywhere else I've lived and more so than the neighborhood I grew up in. Odd? But I like it and it fits The Divine Mrs. M and me. It's an urban neighborhood classified by the U.S. Census as "inner city", but there's none of the problems associated with that word. Historically it has been German Catholic with a sprinkling of Irish Catholic. Until last year the Germans and Irish had seperate parishs and churchs - on the same block. I feel in love with it because my house sits almost at the top of a hill overlooking the rest of Bellevue. I can tell the time by the church tower of Divine Mercy, the bells tell me the changing hour. When older, my kids can walk to school. I can look across the Ohio River to see Mount Adams, the upper portion of the Cincinnat Art Museum and a sliver of the eastern edge of downtown. No. 1 Daughter thinks the Proctor and Gamble World Headquarters are pyramids. That's nice. These pics tell it all for me.
But no matter how much I like it, Garbage Eve comes every Thursday and I truck out to the curb the wretched refuse of our past weeks living. Sometimes I'm embarrased by how much we don't recycle, but most times I don't care. I gotta live.
For whatever reason, when one of the neighbors starts taking out their garbage, it triggers the rest to get up off the couch and do the same. We then talk with each other. Septeginarian Mrs. R to the right of us usually takes out hers and heads back in right away, but if she's in the mood and it's not too hot, she'll stop you to talk. If that's the case, relax because you're going to be there a while. She likes to talk. She's a pleasant older lady who I see head off to Mass every Sunday. She bought her house in '46 brand new. She's divorce and raised 8 kids in a two bedroom house. She's had problems I wouldn't want to deal with. Usually when she talks she wants to know what's going on with the neighbors and she'll provide you a history of who's who. I like her and hope she'll be living next to use for years.
On the other side, Mrs. M and J. usually speak briefly and we exchange what on the block needs to be rectified. Someone is parking in the wrong direction, or not putting lids on their cans, or not mowing their grass. They know I'm somewhat of a jerk and will call the city to be the issue fixed. So over the waste of a week we catch up on gossip and problems and kids. We don't often go into each other's house. No coffee, or tea, or stopping in. Just these weekly chats. It keeps the neighborhood going. A neighborhood I like.
I intend on living here until I die. If you're looking for a new place to live, come and visit, but don't try to buy a house on Anspaugh. I like it like it is.
Stay You.
Back to Main Page
I feel at home and comfortable in Bellevue. More so than anywhere else I've lived and more so than the neighborhood I grew up in. Odd? But I like it and it fits The Divine Mrs. M and me. It's an urban neighborhood classified by the U.S. Census as "inner city", but there's none of the problems associated with that word. Historically it has been German Catholic with a sprinkling of Irish Catholic. Until last year the Germans and Irish had seperate parishs and churchs - on the same block. I feel in love with it because my house sits almost at the top of a hill overlooking the rest of Bellevue. I can tell the time by the church tower of Divine Mercy, the bells tell me the changing hour. When older, my kids can walk to school. I can look across the Ohio River to see Mount Adams, the upper portion of the Cincinnat Art Museum and a sliver of the eastern edge of downtown. No. 1 Daughter thinks the Proctor and Gamble World Headquarters are pyramids. That's nice. These pics tell it all for me.
But no matter how much I like it, Garbage Eve comes every Thursday and I truck out to the curb the wretched refuse of our past weeks living. Sometimes I'm embarrased by how much we don't recycle, but most times I don't care. I gotta live.
For whatever reason, when one of the neighbors starts taking out their garbage, it triggers the rest to get up off the couch and do the same. We then talk with each other. Septeginarian Mrs. R to the right of us usually takes out hers and heads back in right away, but if she's in the mood and it's not too hot, she'll stop you to talk. If that's the case, relax because you're going to be there a while. She likes to talk. She's a pleasant older lady who I see head off to Mass every Sunday. She bought her house in '46 brand new. She's divorce and raised 8 kids in a two bedroom house. She's had problems I wouldn't want to deal with. Usually when she talks she wants to know what's going on with the neighbors and she'll provide you a history of who's who. I like her and hope she'll be living next to use for years.
On the other side, Mrs. M and J. usually speak briefly and we exchange what on the block needs to be rectified. Someone is parking in the wrong direction, or not putting lids on their cans, or not mowing their grass. They know I'm somewhat of a jerk and will call the city to be the issue fixed. So over the waste of a week we catch up on gossip and problems and kids. We don't often go into each other's house. No coffee, or tea, or stopping in. Just these weekly chats. It keeps the neighborhood going. A neighborhood I like.
I intend on living here until I die. If you're looking for a new place to live, come and visit, but don't try to buy a house on Anspaugh. I like it like it is.
Stay You.
Back to Main Page
posted by Howard McEwen, CFA at Friday, September 10, 2004
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