DOT: Dalliance on Transcendence

I could write a book about Dot Ave and do you know what I would call it?  Dot Ave.  I know, it's not very original, but 'Dot Ave' is the title bestowed on Dorchester's spine.  It's an evocative name.  Nobody says Dorchester Avenue unless they are a GPS voice.  Even strangers reflexively refer to Dot Ave after the first time they hear the shorthand moniker.

Dot = Dorchester.  Nothing could be plainer.  Even with long r's why does this compression of syllables make so much sense?  I'll tell you.  Though Dorchester is a big place with a longish name, it can be distilled into one commonly appreciated, multi-layered concept described by three letters.  D-O-T doesn't just stand for Department of Transportation.  DOT is also an acronym for Dalliance on Transcendence.

The middle of a bull's eye, the gold spot on a daisy, the halo over the stem of a lower case letter 'i'.  You can whittle away your whiles in Dorchester and be none the worse for wear.  It's a big sprawling Dot with as many smug secrets as the twin pupils in mysterious Mona Lisa's eyes.  Whatever it's not, Dorchester is Dot

Seaweed peddlar

I was practicing my dart game and enjoying a pint of lager at JJ's Irish Pub and Grille when I should have been working at my day job.  It was a little after noon, so I knew I still had time to get my desk before my boss would show up.  Tossing darts at a target is an important skill for a gentleman to have, so even if I was a few hours late I knew my supervisor wouldn't begrudge me a little time spent practicing in front of the bull's eye rather than the computer screen.  He was probably doing the same thing in a Somerville barroom if he wasn't clicking heels with his mistress.

A man came in with a trash bag of seaweed.  Now this is December and a foot of snow had fallen the day before.  Who collects seaweed in this weather?  The wind at the beach must have frozen his fingers.  To put wind-whipped hands into piles of wet weed took a ligamentary fortitude I can't imagine.  The trash bag stunk like low tide.

The bartender, a lady in her late 40s called out, "What's that rot you've brought in here?  Don't you know people are eating and drinking?  You're going to put them off their plates and cups!  I'm trying to run a sanitary establishment here, not a dumping ground."

The man tipped his hat and placed his belongings in a corner.  "Beg pardon," he said, "I just want to get warm before I take my haul home to Pearl Street.  The wind is biting cold on my poor limbs."

"Biting cold, I bet," Chauncy snarled at the man.  Chauncy and I had been shooting darts and, while he had been amicable enough while we were competing, his face took on an unpleasant look.  Chauncy looked at the seaweed peddlar and said, "I'll bite ya, I will.  I'll bite ya with my wee dart.  Look out!"  and he motioned as if he were going to toss a missile right at the man's backside.

Things didn't get uglier than that.  The seaweed peddlar beat a hasty retreat, maybe headed to the Burger King down Dot Ave where the entrance requirements aren't so strict and the staff and clientele aren't so judgmental.  The man opened the door and hauled his trash bag through it.  The wind blew at the same instant and the bar room stunk like rotten fish and unpleasant things for a long time afterward.

Dot wellness

Dorchester, Boston's biggest neighborhood, is composed of a melange of many, many smaller neighborhoods and sub-jurisdictions. All of them contain their delights and all serve their purpose. Some are self-contained, miniature metropoli where few visit and few leave. Others are a nexus for the wider city of which they are a part. Fields Corner, served as it is by the Red Line, is one of those places in Dorchester that are cosmopolitan.

Cultures don't clash in Fields Corner, they mingle, shake hands, say, "How do you do?" and support each other. The Dorchester House Multi Service Center located at 1353 Dot Ave serves a wide-ranging constituency with medical and social needs. This modern, up-to-date building is clean and efficient. It is home to community rooms, exam rooms, an in-house blood laboratory, physical therapists, mental health counsellors, a semi-public swimming pool, an optical shop, and a striking, glazed ceramic tile mural depicting this part of the Dot from a bird's eye vantage.

The Dorchester House is a five minute stroll from the Fields Corner T station, heading north up Dot Ave. Take the Charles Street exit out of the station to shave half a minute off your walk. En route, you will pass many small shops bustling with small business that cater to every need.

Anyone looking for firewood is directed to the triangular park where Adams Street intersects with Dot Ave. We noticed today that there are several lengths of 2x4 sawed to stove length scattered in front of the stone that commemorates Boston veterans. They may be left over from the X-mas tree that stood vigil on this spot during the holidays. By our estimation there are three days worth of kindling available if one burns them in a fireplace, maybe five days worth with an efficient wood burning stove.

Population destiny

Dorchester is Boston's largest municipal subdivision, logging in just shy of six square miles. The population in 2001 was 92,115 people in a larger city made up of almost 600,000 at the time. If you do the math this come out to about 15,000 people in each square, Dorchester mile. That's more crowded than a Red Line train during rush hour. There may some friction and frayed nerves at times, but, like harried commuters, the people of Dorchester get along as they head to their specific destinations.

Interestingly enough, Dorchester is Boston's second-most densely settled neighborhood after the equally maligned Roxbury. People think downtown is dense but that is mostly an impression of architecture and tourist traffic. Neither Roxbury nor Dorchester is home to high rise office towers or vast civic plazas, or anything modern, really. They exist by rules and plans laid out at least a century ago and oftentimes older. The infrastructure works and supports a multitude. It is time-tested and doesn't go in for fads.

Dorchester is one three-decker building after another after another along every street in every direction, each story packed with families and each family packed with stories. The sidewalks don't lie. There are always people out and about on some fool errand or another. You don't find many people in the Financial District after working hours or on Sundays.

So many people jostling and talking to each other results in a cross-pollination of ideas and ambitions. Great schemes are incubated in Dorchester (and Roxbury) and great men and women get their start here. People from outside the Dot say it is too crowded, too run down, there's too much crime, the beautiful people don't live there. The beautiful people may move away after a time, but they are born here and more are born after them. Its per capita concentrations of souls is one of Dorchester's assets. Good and evil, rich and poor, industrious and lazy, abide side by side in close proximity. It is a stimulating place in which to live, a place that breeds understanding and universal viewpoints, compassion and competition, philosophy and piety, and a willingness to allow everyone to work together.

You don't want bankers and construction contractors running your city. A living city needs a neighborhood like Dorchester (and Roxbury) to keep its focus honest and close to the bone of humanity.

Free stuff in Dorchester

There are usually free things for the taking along Dorchester's streets, especially on trash days. Many people in this ecologically conscious and penny-pinching part of Boston cannot bear to let good things go to waste. Boston's municipal dump was once located here and though part of it has become Pope John Paul II Park along the banks of the Neponset River, Dorchesterites realize that good results don't always come from discarding things that have outlived thier usefulness.

The following advertisement appeared on Craig's List this afternoon: "I have a free washing machine(whirlpool) and dryer(kenmore) in my basement. I have no idea if it works or not...but I just want it out. Call 617-719-8420 if interested. You must bring help to move it. (Location Dorchester)"

This is a neighborly offer in every way. It points out the manufacturers of said appliances in case anyone is observing any boycotts of which the author is unaware. It admits up front that caveat emptor (or, in this case, receptor) is the order of this exchange. It also plainly points out that on-site, manpower is unavailable. Party A has something and Party B is welcome to take it without interference. A+B should equal C: Party B is in possesion of a washer-dryer set of questionable utility. It could be a labor saving jackpot or it could be a waste of time for everyone but Party A.

Many people in Boston's more fashionable neighborhoods question the utility of having Dorchester as part of the larger, civic body. It is a blind spot on their part. Dorchester may be full of cast-offs, but most of what is neglected can be put to good use. Everything discarded can be recycled, and there is also a rich vein of talent and undiscovered elements in the Dot that hasn't come close to being tapped. No one looks. Good students don't advertise on Craig's List while lawbreakers are broadcasted every day in the popular news.