Back then, four corner stores for every six blocks on my Northside;
Back then, business was mom and pop, a generations’ pride;
Gas stations, dry cleaners, bakeries, hardware, drugstore soda pop;
Liquor stores beside the churches, and my dad’s old barber shop.
Back then, we stayed off bus routes that went through projects near downtown;
Back then, suburbs were white, the city black, yellow, red, and brown;
Yet our teenage disobedience in 1968
Swapped second-hand trinkets and kisses with those we could not hate.
Back then, Catholics wedding Lutherans was shocking diversity;
Back then, just one Jewish kid on the playground, playing there with me;
One Chinese take-out place in town and everyone knew Chung Moy;
And everyone knew the janitor’s name, but still they called him “boy.”
Back then, our eyes were opened to hate and war and poverty;
Back then, we had faith in government and prayed for Kennedy.
Who sold us down the river, and co-opted our local boards?
Closed our factories and gave our homes to out-of-state-landlords?
Back then, we pushed against your bigotry — did we not Northside?
Didn’t we go on strike for labor rights and in our liberal stride,
Take on unpopular causes — lose our friends for civil rights?
Do we not still lift a torch for peace and shine like Northern lights?
