Sister Sabine from the Jehvajs Witness Church said the PuertoRican Humboldt Park girls would cut up our faces when we move there from our Swedish neighborhood named Andersonville on the North Side of Chicago. The Year was 1992 and oh did the News habeva alot to say about Humboldt park. Our family of eight was moving into our Grandmother’s brick three flat that she owned in Humboldt Park after our duplex landlord number two decided to seel the building and off we go looking for a Chicago style apppartmnt big enough for our family of eight.

Her first building I remember from before I started kindergarden was on Potmac and Pulaski and I used to ride my bike in the year 1980 all the way from Lincoln Sqaure being bribed wirh Tasty Freeze on Armitage and Kedzie along the way. Some days Mama and I would ride the Kimball bus to say hi .

Humboldt Park was the same place our parents met as teens inside the three mile park with lagoons for fishing and boat houses and a Greek style colosseum surrounded with a magical garden making you forget you are in Chicago perhaps somewhere overseas and sometime long ago. 

Our Grandmother bought a beautiful red brick three flat right with high ceilings and fire places and a sky light on the third floor accenting a winding stair case leading up to a bright red wall to greet you with passion and gold mirrors to welcome you hello and please inspect your appearance before entering and don’t forget your lipstick if you are a mujer and tuck in your shirt pants if you are un hombre. The boulevard brick three flat felt like a palace with statues and six foot tall paintings and fine china displayed in cabinets and we couldn’t wait to move in and accept our place as Puerto Rican royalty princesas muñecas bonitas bellas where we knew our Abuela would cook for us and design us clothing made for fashion runways and teach us her beauty secrets with hair rollers and tinctures to prevent wrinkles and witch hazel to ward off acne. 

Sister Sabine warned of Humboldt Park as the Dooms day expert. The demons are following you expert.

great war of Armageddon expert which which would be coming any day now any day. Her inside informant allowed her to boat: They will know you are not 100% Puerto Rican by your colored eyes and the gang members will not like that and they will jump you and beat you up and there are even girl gang members and you need to be very very careful. I wish we had room where you could live with us Sister Sabine shook her head. 

Sister Sabine ranted and counseled and declared this and that and shook her head and closed her eyes and Humboldt Park this and Humboldt Park that and shame on your parents so scary so sad and the more she talked her voice faded into the background drowned out by the power and history and nature and beauty of what Humboldt Park spoke to us. 

If Humboldt Park could talk it would tell many many stories very different than the ones you hear about in the news. 

It would tell of the grand boat house with men and boys fishing in the lagoon weeping willow trees streams bridges that take you back in time to the 1800’s with horses and carriages and parties and hills and children playing on slides and in the grass and yelling and laughing and dreaming. Come take a tour Humboldt Park would say. 

From Kedzie Avenue to California from North Ave to Division Street come see the beautiful brick mansions and grey stones. 

It would tell of the ten foot tall statue of Alexander von Humboldt the scientist and explorer of romance and philosophy who resurrected the word cosmos from the ancient Greek encouraging science and culture standing proudly near the boathouse with plants at his feet and a twig in his right hand. 

It would tell of the bison statue in the formal garden designed by Edward Kemeys who also created the Lion statue at the Art Institute. 

It would tell of husbands working hard laborious days carrying coolers full of food on the way out the door leaving besos on the foreheads of sleeping children and tight hugs from wives and playful butt taps with mischievous smiles. 

If Humboldt Park could talk it would tell a few tattle tales of the same husbands walking through the park to sneak a treat from the food truck on the way home even though there wives say don’t eat before dinner. The smell of fried potatoes filled with shredded pork seasoned with garlic lingering through the air dancing with red beans simmering in cilantro and onion just a bite the rice would taunt. It would tell of wives wondering why their husbands are getting little pot bellies when they aren’t cooking any more than usual. It would tell of a young man and woman sneaking behind the trees to carve in a rock Cal and Cissy true love f o r e v e r. 

It would tell of Benny the old man selling frozen ice cream treats from the parcha passion fruit and singing parcha-parcha-keeps-you-young-forever except on the summer days when the temperatures reached above ninety and his wife insisted he stay home God forbid he catch heat stroke and die. Then what would she do? 

It would tell of gang territory and code of ethics being no shooting in the park and call the recreation leaders and let them know to bring kids in on days of gang fights. It would tell of family picnics barbecuing for birthdays and the 4th of July and anniversaries. It would tell of secret rendezvous from lovers and not so secret displays of affection on park benches and picnic blankets and parked cars. 

It would tell of winter snows and blue skies and a little man made beach and old ladies flirting and dancing and sporting umbrellas in the summer time to keep their skin wrinkle free and young boys playing baseball and bragging about runs and hits and a famous baseball player donating a million dollars to build a replica official stadium for the little leaguers with faux grass and a light up score board. 

Yes it would tell of murders and bodies thrown in the lagoon and drug deals and also of butterflies and geese and weddings by the Greek style cement pillars with assorted flowers blooming. It would tell of Puerto Rican week and the month of June and dancing in the park concerts. Summertime car shows with low riders and 60’s cars parading around the park boasting of rims and flashy paint jobs. 

It would tell of two metal larger than life flags three stories high one placed at Western Ave the other at California costing half a million dollars each and the width reaching from one side of the street to next. It would tell of gentrification and the new dwellers moving in and not liking the flags and the old school crowd laughing with pride too bad too bad. It would tell of many families and many generations scrimping and saving living on rice and beans for years just to come up with the down payment on a building. 

It would tell of roasted pigs and backyard barbecues and Botanicas with statues of saints and sprays and incense and African gods. 

It would tell of beautiful rose bushes and Puerto Rican flags hanging from every window and little flags hanging from every car mirror and every key- chain and Puerto Rican bandanas and socks and bikinis and beach towels and water bottles and sweatsuit outfits and baseballs. 

It would tell of a seventy year old man crying because he couldn’t pay his new property taxes and petitions of keep gentrification out of Humboldt Park and Aldermen and bribes and threats and parades and an old man moving back to Puerto Rico and refusing to sell his home to non Puerto Ricans. 

It would tell of the house on Augusta painted pink and red with white metal lawn chair furniture inside and out. The crowning of Chicago’s very own Prince and Princesa Puerto Rico pageant Queen and King and the cover of the local newspaper boasting big smiles and big hair for las nenas and slicked hair for the boys and lovely sashes and happy hand waves. 

If Humboldt Park could talk it would tell of bombazo gatherings with intoxicating drums and musicians wearing all white with children dancing and women wearing long flowing skirts holding the bottom edge of the skirt to play out emotions of strength and power and peace and love and perseverance and healing and the drummers matching the beats of the skirt dance with the palm of the hand the vibration from the earth moving up through everyones bodies releasing pain and fear and worries meeting in a secret world of the millisecond moment of gap between thoughts where everyone feels like one. 

As Humboldt Park spoke to our family of eight it said welcome. This is your home your roots your heritage your birthright. Welcome home.