“Lesser Crimes”

Callaloo, 39, no. 1, Winter 2016

The chainsaw ripped through gauzy sleep. 7:03, and I couldn’t recall anyone murdering the Saturday morning peace this early or this loudly.

Weekdays were often ravaged by the sounds of tearing down and building up and out, by sanders and nail guns, saws and drills. Aluminum ladders expanding and contracting. Grumbling motors and idling trucks. The incessant noise often made the newspaper column I worked on in my makeshift home office a mere aspiration. Home improvement in mid-Cambridge never stopped for long. There was always another kitchen upgrade to granite and stainless steel taking place, another open-plan family room addition coming into being, a top-of-the-line Toto toilet going in. There seemed to be endless ways and endless means to reclaim and improve the turn of the century frame houses and multi-family dwellings on our block, but rehabilitation usually paused on weekend mornings.

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