Everyone has that unforgettable teacher, and in the case of Bruce Clark from the West of Washington neighborhood, there are quite a few ways he fills that role for so many young people around here.

Most students, current and former, can’t forget about “Mr. Clark” – as he’s known far and wide – because they still see him around the neighborhood all the time. He is that rare example of someone who grew up, taught, and continues to live in the same neighborhood his entire life.

You can’t forget someone who doesn’t go away.

He’s always on foot walking from here to there, for this or that. I became acquainted with Mr. Clark many years ago through his late father, Burrell, who walked around the neighborhood for exercise at a time when people didn’t do that here. Their family is like a time machine in west of Washington. In fact, Bruce has stories about the many large Irish families who lived here and whom he grew up around. They are long gone, a casualty of a regrettable time so many want to forget about and move beyond.

I ran into Mr. Clark the other day and he noted that he was retiring from teaching – hitting the age-65 milestone and setting down the chalk and erasers. He has taught for more than 30 years in the Boston Public Schools, mostly right here in the neighborhood at places like the Holmes School and the Lee School – some of which he attended as a boy.

As much as people like to retire from a long career, I could tell he has his reservations. Interacting and influencing young people – particularly when you live in the community with them and get to see them grow to adults – is a hard thing to relinquish. He told me about the time this year when a couple of young adults stopped him as he walked back from Fields Corner.

“Mr. Clark!” they yelled so happily, he said. Having taught so many, he didn’t recognize them as adults. In fact, they just wanted to say thank you for teaching them and continuing to be around.

“You know,” he said as he spoke to me, “even if you just have one of those, just one, then all you’ve done is worth it.” But the truth is there are probably hundreds, maybe more, who would like to tell him the same thing.

I don’t think the big shots in high places see the true value of this. As Mr. Clark retires, I don’t see a bunch more like him coming up the ladder or being recruited heavily from our area. I am sure there are fine teachers and educators in the schools where Mr. Clark taught, but a lot of them I see are very young, and they’re coming from somewhere far away.

They’re not here in the summer; they’re not here on weekends. They certainly won’t be walking up the street to greet their students 20 years from now. Simply put: If there were another crop of Mr. Clarks coming up the ladder, I doubt the schools would need so much fixing.

Getting around in lockdown
For some folks, the lockdown is over, but for those of us on the west side of Washington, the lockdown continues as we shut down our major streets at dusk (or earlier) four days a week. The plain truth is no one knows the antidote for the fringe lunatics who party all night and sleep all day in our parks and public spaces – some from here and some from out of town.

The wisdom of closures is unfortunately the only sound approach right now. Wild parties rock the block all night long, ATVs tear through any space they want to, and people freely flout authority for the pursuit of utter self-indulgence.

A close relative recently had the need for an ambulance late in the evening, but anyone headed to the Longwood neighborhood from west of Washington is sunk. The drivers can take a crazy path along Columbus Avenue, which is sometimes closed at night, or use the residential streets of Roxbury. My family member wasn’t in a dire situation, but so many cases leaving by ambulance are life and death, so every second counts. What happens when accommodating the culture of the yahoo community turns the longer route deadly?

We now have a new police commissioner coming in. One thing he said last week when his appointment was announced stood out: “We’re going to get to know the cultures of all the people we serve to make sure we never make a mistake and confuse someone’s culture from behavior that’s considered criminal in some way, shape or form.”

We’ll see what that statement means in practice.

The summer towel
Last summer I shared about the magic of sun tea. Another free summer treat I look forward to on hot days punctuated by thunderstorms and short bursts of rain is the summer-fresh towel. The recipe is simple: If I know there’s a thunderstorm or rain coming, I leave my bath towel out on the pully (that’s a clothesline for those who don’t know) and let the rain soak it. Then I let the sun bake it dry.

The result is a true “rain fresh” bath towel.

There’s a reason the detergent companies use chemical sauces to try to replicate this – because it’s good. It’s the easy kind of thing that makes summer around here worth it. After all, summer behavior in these neighborhoods west of Washington is so abysmal, you gotta’ take the base hits when they’re comin’ in fat over the plate.

Next month, we’ll share more heart from the ‘hood. Keep reading. This is the only place you’ll get the latest from the greatest, and the real talk from the sidewalk.

Don’t let anyone tell you different.