The Where I Live series aims to showcase our diverse city and region by spotlighting its many vibrant neighborhoods. Each week a local resident invites us over and lets us in on what makes their neighborhood special. Have we been to your neighborhood yet? Get in touch to share your story. If your story is selected and published, you will receive a $250 stipend.
My family — myself, my wife Laura, my daughters Basil and Ingrid, and my son Archer — spent many years in Oakland, CA, our lives unfurling in that magical California blur of dappled sunshine, coastal bliss and, uh, $18 sandwiches.
But then came the wildfires and the pandemic. After our fourth summer evacuation due to fires and smoke, the California dream had curdled a bit. It felt strange wearing a ventilator to buy groceries. And those $18 sandwiches somehow kept getting pricer. After the pandemic hit, we wanted to be close to family, so we moved to San Antonio and landed in the Monticello Park historical district.
I’d never visited Monticello Park, but I immediately fell in love. Our home and the homes in this historic district embody so much of what I love about old San Antonio — each house unique and hand-made, the neighbors warm and friendly, and incredible stonework all around. Everyone is chill. Lots of families. The neighborhood oozes personality; definitely not a cookie-cutter suburb. No two houses are the same. You feel woven into San Antonio’s dense, dazzling fabric; nearby Woodlawn Lake hums like the hidden heart of the city.
Our house sits on almost a half-acre and, after nearly a decade in a downtown Oakland apartment, my brain was exploding with gardening inspiration. Our lot had sat dormant for years and the ground was hard-packed clay, so I broke it up, brought in many cubic yards of compost, and amended the soil. Using SAWS rebates, we transformed the nearly half-acre lot into a rewilded native Texas landscape, filled to the brim with native plants. I am a huge plant nerd (and certified Texas master naturalist) and my wife is a big birder (also a plant nerd). Our yard feels like a mini nature preserve in the city: buzzing, humming, green shoots spilling over every edge and sidewalk, a beautiful, tangled, joyous, native-seeded mess. If our yard was a face, then it’d have a big bushy beard and a ten-mile smile. And I am its barber.
Our neighbors seemed confused at first when we removed all the grass and reseeded it with native Texas meadow, but once they saw the vibrant explosion of flowers and butterflies, they understood.
Birds love the yard. My wife has now seen the elusive Painted Bunting in our yard a few times, and our Purple Martin house has been a rousing success. The yard is an explosion of color and abundant life. We share some of our young prickly pear cactus with our neighbors whose abuelas use it to make nopales, and now they’re giving it a go and harvesting their own.
Walking or jogging from our house down to Woodlawn Lake is a daily must. So many cool, friendly people and wonderful homes I see on every journey. My wife attends workout classes at the community center. My daughter currently attends Young Women’s Leadership Academy, formerly called Horace Mann.
My kids and I started a clean up group called Friends of Woodlawn Lake, or F.O.W.L., named after all the birds at the lake. We’ve undertaken many clean ups there, oh boy. We cruise out on canoes, nets and grabbers at the ready, fishing out some crazy stuff. One time we found a discarded trash can, which felt appropriate. Our F.O.W.L. group also received a grant from the Bexar County Audubon Society. We used the grant to start a native plant area at my daughter’s school.
Woodlawn Lake’s beauty is marred by the deluge of trash. With upcoming upgrades and investments, plus expanding awareness of this shared treasure, I’m optimistic. My kids have played on the playground, we’ve witnessed many Fourth of July fireworks celebrations and Dia de Los Muertos celebrations. We are there pretty much every day.
As a family, we ride our bikes all the way down the Alazan Creek Greenway to Confluence Park, sometimes to Ruby City. The city’s new bike trails are so so wonderful. Just wish they’d figure out a way to help all the homeless folks sleeping under the bridges.
In our Monticello neighborhood, some of our favorite spots: La Milpa, home of the best tortillas in town; El Paraiso, best paletas anywhere; The Lighthouse, a perfect dive bar; The Original Donut Shop, for the best bean and cheeses; and Black Potion Game Room, which is a much welcome “third place” where we can all hang out and play games together. Some great sketch comedy there too. We also love Brainwave Records! Cool Crest Golf. It feels like there’s a lot of good people here trying to make things happen and make things work. I hope more good folks keep starting businesses.
Our house is over a hundred years old with incredible rock archways, hand-laid stones, and mosaic tiles; truly a hand-built gem – every bit assembled by skilled artisan hands. We call it the “House of Rock,” because, well, I love to rock (I’m a musician).
An architectural historian came to our house and said it originally had “etched beams,” an elaborately painted ceiling, similar to the top floor of the Majestic Theater. The stained glass by our front door is the same as Tempel Beth-El; I was told this neighborhood was historically one of the few places Jewish folks could buy. Jefferson High School is a couple blocks away and feels iconic and timeless.
The drought has wreaked havoc on the house foundation — I was told the ground is “Oklahoma clay.” Apparently that is a normal thing. But we love our crooked house.
There is so much to love about Monticello Park. Too much to even list here. Where I live has been a wondrous scene where I’ve watched my children grow slowly more amused / annoyed by their quixotic dad and his many projects. We have created a wonderful life here and are so thankful to be welcome by the city and our neighbors.
