Annette John-Hall: Mega-block party seeks to engage

They say Philly is a city of neighborhoods. But in the summertime, it's a city of block parties.

This weekend especially, you can count on plenty of cordoned-off streets.

And that's a good thing.

Block parties are so quintessential Philly - and so very needed. For any community, block parties are a tie that binds people.

A day when neighbors sit together instead of passing by one another. A chance to connect or get to know one another better, music blasting all day with nobody complaining. Tables full of food that neighbors share. Loads of laughter and joy as posses of line dancers do their thing.

Like most Philadelphians, memories of summer block parties stayed with State Sen. Anthony Hardy Williams (D., Phila.). And they're what inspired him to create his own mega-block party, the Neighborhood to Neighborhood Street Festival, which he's hosted for the last 21 years.

This year's daylong affair, which kicks off Saturday at Cedar Park in West Philly, includes free food, vendors, and rides and games for the kids, along with a tribute to combat and community heroes.

Williams usually comes up with the best in entertainment and this year is no exception: Grammy Award winner Macy Gray, neo-soul sweetheart Chrisette Michele, and local gospel power Tamika Patton are all scheduled to perform throughout the day.

Sure, says Williams, the festival's purpose is to bring together all of the disparate parts of his Eighth Senatorial District, which stretches from University City to Ridley Park.

But the idea originally stemmed from something much smaller: The block parties he used to enjoy when he lived at 6230 Osage Ave. as a young state representative in the 1990s.

Yes, that Osage Avenue, the part of the street on the edge of Cobbs Creek Park that lives in infamy - and limbo - 25 years after the MOVE inferno killed 11 people, destroyed 53 houses, damaged eight others, and left 250 people homeless.

And also broke up a once-close knit neighborhood that was trying to resurrect itself after the fire.

"I've seen a lot of block parties, but nobody ever had block parties like the ones [on Osage Avenue]," Williams says. "The block parties on the street were a dance floor. The whole block would be dancing at the same time."

Recently, I asked Williams, 53, to take a walk with me down Osage Avenue so he could share his memories. He finally agreed, but it took some persuading.

Williams grimly surveyed the block, a hodgepodge of occupied and boarded-up rowhouses - mostly the latter

"I haven't been down here since I moved in 2000," he said.

Why not?

"Because it's hard," he replied, looking at a once-vibrant block that looks almost like a ghost town today.

Williams, his wife, Shari, and their two young daughters were among the second wave of families to move to the block in 1994, after the houses had been rebuilt.

Before and after the fire, all of the homes were occupied.

"If you were looking for a throwback block, this was it," Williams said, as he rattled off the names of his former neighbors. "I remember people protecting my children when I wasn't around. That was sacred to me."

But sadly, he and his family, as well as other neighbors, reluctantly left after their rebuilt homes were deemed structurally unsound.

But the buyout from the city could never replace the togetherness they enjoyed - and treasured - as neighbors.

It's a spirit he tries to recreate with his festival every year.

"I would hope people will come to a place of peace," he says.

Something tells me he'd love to see some of those familiar faces from the old block party.

If the way folks greeted him on his return to Osage Avenue was any indication, he will.