The other night, after spending an rare hour at the gym followed by another hour at the supermarket, I was standing in my kitchen putting away the last of the groceries when I heard a quiet “woof” at my feet. I looked down and there were two enormous brown eyes staring up at me longingly saying “Daddy, please take me out!” It was Britches, our 6 year old, black and silver poodle, who we adopted into our family a year or so ago. I looked up at the clock and realized that it was 10 p.m. I’ve learned that whenever Britches finds me and asks to go out, he really needs to go, so I got the leash, snapped it on him, and headed out the front door.
It’s always interesting walking at night, for a quiet comes over our street and it’s a good time for reflection. I looked at the houses around ours, the sounds of the latest TV hits drifting from the windows, and began to think about how amazing our neighborhood is. The houses are typical of the contemporary version American dream, two story brick homes with open floor plans and twenty percent more floor space than our parents grew up with. Our street like so many in Nashville ends in a cul-de-sac, and the property behind most of the homes hasn’t been developed yet, so there is a certain rural feeling even though we certainly are in the middle of suburbia.
However, none of that is particularly unique. What is more unique are the persons who live in these houses, for here, living in these $200,000 homes in South Nashville, are African-Americans, Asians, and even a few families of European descent. Our street represents a mix of colors, nationalities, and backgrounds, a mix that was impossible just a few years ago.
That closely watched ruling, which made it easier for inmates to get new hearings on DNA evidence that emerges after their trials, and the fallout from it have left House in limbo while a prosecutor methodically battles every effort from the courts to have him retried.
