Help save history in your community by recording the stories of long-time residents, collecting and preserving historic photographs, and sketching and writing about significant local landmarks.

Table of Contents

 Luke's Poem

People are like the blood that run through my veins.
Jesus, my builder, laid my every brick.
The priest is like my heart, pointing my blood in the right direction.
I was only 23 when I was enlarged to fit all my visitors.
Every morning my bell rings and also at the time for mass.
Without the people, my blood; Jesus, my builder; and the priest, my heart,
I could not survive.

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 Nikki's Poem

Welcome

My 100 year-old-body
Divided with wooden tracery
Welcomes all my people
To my house of God.

I feel as if I am a wheel
Watching everyone pass on by me.
“Welcome,” all my people
To my house of God.

My home is Arlington Avenue
Where people usually walk past
And pay no attention to me.
“Welcome,” all my people
To my house of God.

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 Stephanie's Poem

My name is Schleicher Hardware.
I am a peach-colored carrarra-glass store
that was built in the 1930s.
In past years people have walked in and out of my door
to see my merchandise.
I feel good when people buy my merchandise;
It makes me feel like I have helped them somehow.

People say I am as peach-colored as a sunset
and as old as sand because to them
I have been around a long time.
During the day I watch people pass by and cars rush.
At night I sleep as I listen to the noise of people and cars.
In the morning I wake up on Arlington Avenue
where I have always been.

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 Drew's Poem

Hi. I'm that Big Clock
you race past everyday.
Yes, the one that was broken.
Yes, I'm the one with the
wrong Roman numeral number four.
No, I'm not the one on T.V. that
when I strike seven you cheer.
So, when you run a race,
please, could you smile at my face?

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 Sean's Poem

I came to this world to spread the good news,
To spread joy and get visited every Sunday.
But as the years passed, I faded away.
And now, instead of ringing bells,
I will play music for all who come inside.
Instead of fathers and priests, DJs will be inside.
Instead of church music, rock and hip hop will fill the air.

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 Danielle's Poem

My middle dome is like a new student coming to school,
not fitting in quite yet because it is ring-shine golden
and the others are midnight black.

I am a church that is black and gold.
Ukrainian people I do hold.

Within my walls I hold mass.
As people leave, I watch them pass.

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 Albert's Poem

My name is St. John the Baptist Church.
I'm the tallest and oldest Catholic Church that I know of.
In being so tall I can see the school football field near by.
I have many eyes that watch cars ride by.
No one has given me much credit.
I'm going to hold on and I'm not going to fall,
Even if there is dynamite all around me.

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 Maegan's Poem

I am more than 100 years old and I still stand.
I used to be a school but I'm not any more.
I used to have kids run in and out of me,
But not any more as you can see.
For now I am an apartment building.
I'm pretty happy with my sandstone lintels.
I have been watching over these streets for 104 years,
Watching people laughing, running, and some even in tears.
I hope I am here for awhile to stay
Although everyday I'm getting older and gray.

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