Sister Sabine from the Jehovah’s Witness Church said the PuertoRican Humboldt Park girls would cut up our faces when we moved there from our Swedish neighborhood named Andersonville on the North Side of Chicago. The Year was 1992 and oh did the Sister Sabine have alot to say about Humboldt Park from the news and a bible student soon to be baptized ex- gang banger. 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 sell the building and off we go looking for a Chicago style apartment big enough for our family of eight.

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. 

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 dance parties for no reason…family picnics barbecuing for birthdays. 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. IIt 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 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 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.