Three years ago, if you were traveling from downtown Houston to the Great Southwest along Highway 59 anytime between 4 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. on a weekday, you'd hit the wall around Bissonnet. The wall of traffic, that is. For the next eight miles, all the way to State Highway 6, you'd sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic -- changing lanes, exiting and re-entering the freeway in a useless attempt to shave seconds off your commute. It wasn't uncommon for it to take an hour to drive this tedious stretch. Then, overnight (well, almost) on Memorial Day weekend, the wall was removed. Now, the traffic doesn't begin to back up until Highway 6, where the road narrows to two lanes again. The only downside to all this is that gratefully speeding drivers might not notice the attempt to improve the aesthetics of this section of U.S. 59 with the addition of painted columns imprinted with the Lone Star as well as a crown, the symbol for Imperial Sugar Corporation, which is based in Sugar Land.

When the good old days turned bad, American Red Cross volunteers were familiar sights at the scenes of tragedies -- the tornadoes or hurricanes or floods that rocked the Bayou City. Now add to that the new global era, when disasters are both natural and man-made. The Red Cross is still on call. When families here have emergencies and need to communicate with their U.S. soldier relatives in Iraq or Korea or Africa, the Red Cross can help. And the impressive list goes on: Travelers Aid, service projects for youngsters, care for VA patients, even tracking missing relatives and aiding refugees. Whether the misfortunes are local or global, give this agency credit for being there and ready to help in an instant.

The legend is so old that some of the current students don't even know the sordid past of their school's basketball court. But we do. The High School for Performing and Visual Arts is located in the older section of the Montrose that used to be all houses. Legend has it that a couple lived there with their young daughter. When her short life ended, her parents sorrowfully buried her in the backyard. Years passed, the area was developed, and the school was built were the house once stood. The gravestone was removed in the '80s. In the early '90s, when students were still aware of the haunted court, they would sit around the arch and contemplate the fate of the little girl and her grave and try to find some evidence that it was haunted: quiet cries, levitating basketballs, anything spooky. But apparently she is at peace, for nothing out of the ordinary has ever been recorded. It's still there, though, this secret grave of the mysterious girl, so if you're ever playing basketball on that court and the ball is ripped from your hands, it is most likely her. There is also said to be the ghost of a rabbi in the school's Denney Theatre, but that's a different story altogether.

Buffalo Bayou, the stream that spawned Houston in 1836, is well on its way back from city cesspool to civic asset thanks to a combined public-private $25 million effort. Landscaped hike-and-bike trails now run on both the north and south banks of the bayou from Shepherd on the west under the I-45 freeway interchange to the Wortham Theater Center and the soon-to-be-demolished Fire Station No. 1. The city's federally mandated upgrade in wastewater treatment has not yet brought the bayou up to swimming standards, but catfish and perch routinely are caught (if not eaten) by enterprising urban fisherman. A project is under way to renovate Allen's Landing, the spot at the confluence of Buffalo and White Oak bayous where the first of a storied line of fast-talking land developers set foot on our fair soil. Next in line is a $1 million master plan for the bayou funded by the city, the county and the Buffalo Bayou Partnership to lay the groundwork extending the improvements to the Ship Channel turning basin. In a city renowned for demolishing its heritage, the comeback of the bayou hopefully heralds a new civic mind-set.

You can tell a lot about Houston, past and present, by driving along the in-transition thoroughfare. As in many parts of the city, new upscale condos and town homes are springing forth, even across the street from historic Glenwood Cemetery, where Howard Hughes Jr. and several Texas governors are taking their eternal rest. Several of our favorite eateries also are located amid the used car lots: Good chicken-fried steak can be had at Pig Stand No. 7 -- the last of its breed. Some of the best coffee and tortilla soup can be had up the street at El Rey. George's Diner provides old-fashioned steam-table excellence. You can also hear live music at the Fabulous Satellite Lounge, Mary Jane's or the Rhythm Room. Wet your whistle at any of the numerous watering holes up and down the street.

While driving through the maddening traffic of West Gray from Waugh to Montrose, take a turn down Van Buren. What you will find is an enchanting little neighborhood, filled with duplexes, fourplexes, gingerbread houses and pink stucco homes that would fit in well in Bermuda. The residents are mostly young working people on their way up and eccentric folk who make their abodes look magical. One creative resident built a house out of cinder blocks and glass, with a profusion of bonsai trees. Other houses feature Buddhas and tiny ponds in their front yards. Whether you're looking for a place to live or just an interesting locale to meander through one Sunday, take a turn down one of the side streets and enjoy the good vibes.

A Ferris wheel, a train ride, a carousel, dancing fountains and tanks loaded with hundreds of fish -- what more could a kid ask for? This virtual theme park in the Theater District offers a whole afternoon of child-friendly thrills. Think of it as a good, centrally located alternative to Six Flags. The sound and smell effects inside the Aquarium's Amazon River and Mayan Temple attractions intrigue kids in a Disneyesque manner. And little ones can dine at boatlike tables and watch continuous movie clips in the informal downstairs restaurant. Thanks to the Landry's ownership, the food's not bad either.

The main attraction at the Boston Market on West Gray is the dancers practicing at the Houston Ballet Academy across the street. Order your chicken lunch and sit down to look through the large window at the performers leaping and limbering up in their rehearsal leotards. But watch out: There are some Boston Market regulars who already know this trick, and they'll give you dirty looks if you take the table with the best view.

It was a place for sipping fruity cocktails from the thatched-roof bar by the pool, partying with the band after a great downtown gig, spotting Bill Murray during the filming of Rushmore, watching the fireworks over the bayou on the Fourth of July, getting away from the usual Montrose haunts for a quiet drink on the lush patio and scarfing down the best over-easy eggs in town. But it was not a place, apparently, for making money. Vacancy rates were high, and when Tropical Storm Allison flooded the inn, its owners decided they'd be better off selling the land underneath the 40-year-old landmark. Now, the Allen Park Inn will have to live on in our memories.

What exactly is meant by "No hostages beyond this point" is hard to discern. That message, posted on the inside of several doors in such fine establishments as Keagans State Jail in downtown Houston, greets anyone about to exit the jail and enter the lobby where visitors must turn in their IDs and be dressed in proper attire to walk through the doors. In fact, the words grace two doors, one right after another, so which point exactly, are the signs referring to? Perhaps the second sign is there in case you missed the first one. But who could miss such a warning, which implies that "Negotiating beyond this point will not work -- everyone will be shot."