Resurrection

No, this blog hasn't been hijacked by a non-Hebrew (and on Passover, no less!). But munching my matzoh on this Easter Sunday, thoughts of re-birth strongly resonate as I remember it's also the 42nd anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King, which in turn sparked the rioting that ruined so much of my beloved city. This plague quickly exacerbated the then decade-old exodus of people and jobs, evidenced still by row upon rotting row with which I was all-too familiar at Baltimore Housing while attempting to manage more than 10,000 vacant structures. But considering five decades of downsizing from a million to 640,000 residents, our bolt out of the abyss is a bit wondrous.

As I combed the city for a creamery location, I suppose it was my service at East Baltimore Development Inc., along with my Highlandtown maternal ancestral roots and the surprisingly strong Jewish communal remnants catercorner to Corned Beef Row that jammed the compass needle east, leading me to a potential location that more than meets the marks I set - vacant, historic, sized for now and also later. But best of all, this building housed a creamery. Talk about your re-birth.

My cheese mentor came to Baltimore yesterday and pronounced it, and my vision for the space, perfect. But an inner-city creamery is still an audacious idea. Once again, breathe deep - faith is the oxygen of dreams. Today, on Passover/Easter/yahrzeit for Dr. King and swaths of Baltimore and other great American cities, the When You Believe lyrics from The Prince of Egypt are comfortingly one size fits all:

There can be miracles
When you believe