Walking on Eggshells

Oh, where is the butter and egg man when you need him?

It's like mischief night every night around Ridge Avenue. Various blocks have broken eggshells and distraught yolks pasted to the concrete. While we scanned the sidewalk for signs, evidence of drug paraphernalia, or anything that would beg for documentation, we saw...eggs. The question: Who dropped them?

A former butter and egg company on Page Street was silent. It had a tiled step that read Germantown Butter & Egg Co. Streetwalkers ambled by with empty hands. Outside of a bodega on Ridge Avenue plastered with "Wanted" signs, a group of young men had assembled. When we asked them about crime in the area, they didn't have too much to say. Maybe we should have asked them about the humble egg. What if they knew of a street gang called the Dirty Dozen?

As we walked around the neighborhood, it seemed sunnier, safer. Everyone that passed us said hi or gave us a nod. We were finding eggshells, flyers for upcoming barbecues, and smiles. No bullets or needles. This wasn't the Ridge Avenue we had started with. This was the community you could feel okay about borrowing an egg or two from.

By Dennis Bovell and Kelly White