When I started looking for a home as a newlywed in 1990, my British husband was traveling for work in Europe. He said, “Dahling, just find something as close to a thatched cottage as possible.” Little did he suspect that in bright, shiny new-build Dallas, I’d do just that. I found a charming little bungalow that was just perfect for building my nest, lodging my revolving door of rescue pups, and eventually raising my son.
I also found a lot more in this eclectic East Dallas Conservation District.
I found great neighbors, and the sort of unity I’ve only experienced growing up on military bases around the world. When we lost power recently, my next-door neighbors, who are on a different grid, let us run an extension cord from their home so we could get on the internet. A few years ago, when our internet went out, my other next door neighbor gave me her password so I could continue writing.
When I moved into Hollywood Heights, one neighbor was approaching 90. She was the original homeowner of the first spec home in the neighborhood. Most of my neighbors were well past retirement age. They looked out for us young’uns, and now 29 years later, my generation is doing the same for the incoming batch of newbies.