I moved from Detroit to a neighborhood called Roxborough in Philadelphia when I was ten. This was a very hard-nosed, working class area where fist-fights were a way of life and loyalty was paramount. My neighborhood in Detroit was in much worse condition than the new neighborhood in Philly but there was not this over-arching element of angry, violent behavior. The people I got beat up by most? My friends. Craziness. The flip of this was that your friends, as inter-violent as they were, had your back through anything. They would lay down for you. To this day I still think I could call them up and they would be there if I needed them.

It was a place of extremes and the terrain mirrored this. Row houses would be awkwardly stacked and tilted upon one another. Power lines would criss-cross and tangle into knots. Streets would suddenly dead-end at a cliff. Stone retaining walls would provide the foundation for a long line of unyielding row houses. Greenery grows and runs as wild as the kids do in that neighborhood. Irregardless of the changes that this neighborhood has in store, Roxborough will always be a working class bees nest that passes the hard-nosed, loyalty driven, fisticuffs love from one generation to the next. Always forging through the unrelenting ups and downs.

The streets can be so treacherously steep that most trucks are prohibited. As kids we used to hang out on this street during snowstorms and wait for cars to spin out. We would then help push them back on track….. for a fee.

This is a good example of a street suddenly dropping into a very steep decline. Water-slide style.

This is the house that I moved into and where I was introduced to Philadelphia. A shoebox on its side, really.

This is a good example of a street ending directly into a cliff. You would think that people would get drunk and drive off the edge given the rowdy people. the hills and the lack of protective fencing….. but it never happened. As a kid I was clearly not able to appreciate the view. It was striking this time around.

There are cement and iron staircases that allow you to access the street level all over the neighborhood. Rough and rugged style.

I am big on juxtaposing things. The lush greenery that was grew with reckless abandon was often times comfortably at ease with the iron and city stone that was ubiquitous in Roxborough.

Panoramic of the old stomping ground. Click image to enlarge. What up brother Dev!

Since the houses are smushed together, there are small access alley-tunnels that burrow through to allow entry to the backyard. It is also a great place to duck into when running for your life. I have experienced both uses thoroughly.

Watch your step homie.

Streets and bridges zig-zag at varying levels.

Many streets still have original brick roads complete with a vibrating spin-cycle riding experience and white-knuckled potholes.

Due to the steep drops, heavy duty retaining walls that support very tall structures are very common.

Part castle.

Due to the constant changes in terrain it is common for things to be leaning heavily. Houses, telephone poles, trees, people, attitudes…

You can’t fight it.

A basketball court missing the milkcrate.

Power and phone lines tangled and taper down poles and buildings all across the neighborhood.

Stacked.

The Kendrick Recreation Center. Otherwise known as the “W(rec)k”. Many a’ ass-beating occured here. Both figuratively on the court and literally….. on the court. RIP-Jon P’s front tooth.

Click image to enlarge.

Wear and tear.

Philly taught me how to toughen up and attack when necessary (and sometimes when it isn’t that necessary). For that, I am thankful. For the nightmares and anxiety disorder….. not so much.

Stay up Roxborough, and down.