Snow Shoveling Rules Not Followed on City Properties

2611-15 Penn Ave N

2631 Penn Ave N

 Post and photos by the Hawthorne Hawkman.

So we got a bit of a snowstorm the other day.  I spent about six of the twenty-four hours between Sunday and Monday mornings out shoveling.  The last time I lived in a house on a corner lot, it was in college with ten other housemates.  Looking back on it, I can definitely say that the "eleven 21-year-olds" shoveling model is far superior than the solo approach I had to employ.  But quite a few of my neighbors on my block haven't even done that much.  One neighbor in particular is a rather egregious offender:  The City of Minneapolis.

I usually take my dog up two blocks and back down again for our ambulations.  Tonight, instead of the usual route around Queen, we stayed along Penn to see what lots were unplowed (the dog's interest in the topic is confined to the joy of running through chest-deep snow).  Almost all of those such parcels belong to CPED, the Community Planning and Economic Development arm of Minneapolis government.  And all of those lots are vacant with no structure on them.

 The first two vacant lots to the north of me are owned by both CPED and GMHC, but they were both plowed by my neighbor.  Including those, the breakdown of vacant parcels is this:

Buying the Penn House

Post by the Hawthorne Hawkman, photo from Mama Askofu.

On Friday June 29th, I became the newest north Minneapolis homeowner when I closed on my house at 26th and Penn.  For a long time, I'd been eying up this house, much like a shy kid in the corner of a high school gym, mustering up the courage to ask someone to dance.  But I was rebuilding my credit and there were many such homes I longed after and couldn't buy.  Almost two years ago, however, the comment thread of a blog post at The Irving Inquisition vaulted 2601 Penn to the top of my list of homes I fantasized about owning.

Part of the desire to have this specific house probably comes from my Quixotic nature.  I'm most intrigued about opportunities especially after someone tells me they are impossible.  Two years ago, saving this house from demolition certainly seemed so.  Because of my preservationist bend, I also wanted to find a house that, were it not for my acquisition, would have likely ended up in a landfill.  Anybody can go out, look at a perfectly refurbished home (or one that never needed refurbishment in the first place), fall in love with it, and buy it.  Not everyone can look at a dilapidated structure in a state of disrepair, envision what it would look like if restored, and take the steps needed to bring the house back to a livable condition.

Since I can see what house would look like when restored, I felt something approaching an obligation to pick out just such a structure when finding my own home.  With the work I've been a part of in turning around crime in the EcoVillage, I also felt less intimidated than others might be about living in an area that still needs crime reduction work to happen.  Furthermore, I thought if I could help turn around a house that many thought was past the point of no return, and that was in an area beset by other problems, then I could show others that it's possible and even desirable to take on such challenges in our community.

I met with a GMHC representative and my Realtor, Constance Nompelis, to look at this house back in the fall of 2011.  The house was boarded, vacant, dusty, cold, in need of significant work, and smelled like several animals had crawled in here to die (which was unfortunately the case).  I walked in, looked at the south-facing picture window, imagined how the sunlight would stream into the home and fall upon the built-in woodwork, and essentially said, "This is PERFECT.  I'll take it.  Don't even replace the windows."

The rehab and closing process took over six months to complete, and brings with it a series of blog-worthy stories I have been unable to publish until now.  Those will come over the next few days and weeks, as well as new home ownership adventures that are sure to present themselves.  My first day in my new home was marked with a small and heartwarming surprise party put on by friends and neighbors.  Others were stopping at the intersection, waving, and shouting their congratulations.  Strangers at the bus stop kept telling me how they've been watching the rehab work with great anticipation, and how they love what's been done.  Even my mother happened to be passing through town and had the chance to welcome me into my new home.  The day couldn't have been better.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this dream happen.