Being a real estate professional has introduced me to every corner of the city. From the hills of Helotes to the energetic, artsy vibe of resurgent Dignowity Hill. However, I have always been a creature of the northwest of San Antonio. My northwest journey took me from Babcock North to Westfield, from Rivermist all the way to Leon Springs. It wasn’t until my final move to Laurel Hills that I learned the art of the neighborhood.
I’ve been fortunate enough to travel all around the world, including visits to Spain, Morocco, Uzbekistan, Egypt, Pakistan, Turkey and Mexico. During my travels, I learned to appreciate every aspect of a place and its people, but one thing that stuck out to me more was the practice of being neighborly. It’s not lost in much of the world, but it is something I feel I grew up without.
A neighborhood isn’t limited to your place of residence. A neighborhood is the most direct form of community that a person can experience. The art and practice of a neighborhood begins when you take the first step of the day on your floor, it continues during the first “hello” you give to your neighbor and during your daily commute, when you see your neighborhood restaurants, cafes and businesses.
When it came to deciding on our forever home, my wife and I had a few must-haves. A few visits to Mexico, the ancestral home of San Antonio, helped us focus on where the starting point was for a home: the floor.
We wanted each step we took to remind us of San Antonio’s heritage and because the journey begins with a footstep, we wanted those steps to always be on saltillo tiles. Genuine saltillo tiles are made with Mexican clay which has been made by the Tlaxcaltecas Artisans in Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico since around 1580. The clay in these tiles exists only in Saltillo and is not found anywhere else in the world.
Because San Antonio has a larger connected heritage to Mexico, what is part of Mexico’s heritage feels like it would be part of San Antonio’s heritage too. Saltillo tiles aren’t typically included in modern constructed homes, so when I see Saltillo tiles they emit a pre-modern vibe one would most closely associate with traditional homes in Mexico.
The next requirement was diversity. My wife and I not only wanted diversity in the neighborhood, but also diversity in the area. We could not have asked for a better location than the area from I-10 and Wurzbach to the Medical Center, where you get Ethiopian, Lebanese, Thai, Indian, Moroccan, French, and Mexican food on one street — and where my afternoon run begins with the aroma of seared meat from Pasha, greetings and smiles from the newly arrived refugee community that socializes around the Center for Refugee Services and ends with a tour of the community garden at St. Francis Episcopal.
The last but most important requirement is the neighbors themselves. A short drive through the neighborhood revealed to me a noticeable age gap between the average resident and myself. However, that age gap is what excited me because being neighborly is a traditional art that is most preserved by prior generations.
When I saw my neighbors I knew they were people I wanted to live around. Neighbors are influential people. They influence you and those you live with. They can enrich your life or be a nuisance. I was blessed with the former.
Immediately upon moving a group of neighbors walked over and introduced themselves, and we immediately hit it off and a friendship grew from there. The third and most important piece of the puzzle connected immediately. I knew I could rely on these neighbors to be like family, the way it should be done.
My neighbor Henry, an electrician, has already helped me numerous times with issues in my house. Carol, a retired school teacher, helped the entire neighborhood by adopting a stray dog when a pack of stray dogs was causing a nuisance around my house in particular. Jay, a retired pastor, always spends time socializing with us in my backyard and his wife, Ann, a retired science teacher, gave my kids a beautiful lesson during the solar eclipse.
In an age where community is often an afterthought, I’m glad to say that at Laurel Hills, our way is the old way. Indeed the art of the neighborhood and the practice of being neighborly is not lost on all. It’s alive and thriving in Laurel Hills.
