I did not get to the reopening of Center Stage, but I did get to the opening of a giant hole in the ground behind the old McDonald’s building on the southeast corner of Baltimore and Light streets in the once and future Baltimore.

There will be a 28-story apartment and office building there some day soon.

I mean no disrespect to Center Stage — I am sure the $28 million renovation made a good place great, and I heard Friday night’s party was fabulous and made Baltimore look like it actually has glitterati — but I was thrilled to watch the backhoe operators at Baltimore and Light. It was the best show in town for a few days.

I came upon the construction site for One Light Street during a morning rush-hour walk from Federal Hill to downtown. The walk started at Joe Hooe’s tire shop on South Hanover Street. Along the way, I felt like I was in a city resurgent, one of the busiest, most-bustling places in North America.

All the construction work — cranes high overhead, backhoes several stories below street level, lots of guys in hard hats — completely took my mind off homicides, cops accused of being crooks and a school system the governor of Maryland, in a Trump-like moment of hyperbole, called “an absolute disaster.”

That’s all the bad stuff that beats a Baltimorean down. The walk from Federal Hill took my mind off it.

I arrived at the construction site of a $100 million apartment building in the 600 block of South Charles Street, wondering how they managed to erect the place in what seems like three weeks. Then I took a short detour and stepped onto Light Street, where the McCormick Spice Co. used to be, and where there will soon be a $144 million, 44-story apartment building with amazing views. I mean, you ought to be able to watch Naval Academy football games from the penthouse.

As someone who watched the old McCormick building come down in 1989, and who wondered when — if ever — there would be something on that site besides a perfectly paved parking lot, I admit to feeling excited about having to walk under a covered sidewalk to get by 414 Light. It’s about time something happened there besides the annual resealing of the blacktop.

The parking lot was great for visitors. It will be replaced by a skyscraper for residents. So there’s your big symbolism about the once and future city: The expectation that more people, including those who can afford deluxe apartments in the sky, will want to live in Baltimore.

That’s a 500-foot expression of hope in a place that sometimes seems hopeless.

I walked a few more blocks, and the old Tonka Toy neurons starting firing. Behind the corner building where the McDonald’s used to be, there was a huge hole, maybe three stories deep. In the middle of it, on a large berm of dirt, was a backhoe with an artist at the controls.

In addition to scooping out boulders, the hoe operator discovered a black steel tank with heavy rivets. The thing looked almost medieval, perhaps part of a junked boiler from bygone Baltimore. The backhoe operator pulled the tank out of the ground and, using his controls, pounded it and squashed it flat. It was a pleasure to watch.

I could go on about new construction and renovation around the city. I bring it up again today because I’m struck by how this building, bustling Baltimore contrasts with a 10-car pileup of lousy news: federal racketeering charges against the seven city cops who made up the Police Department’s elite gun unit; 54 homicides in the first 10 weeks of the year; an estimated 19,000 drug addicts and a rising number of overdose deaths. Add to that the $130 million funding gap for the city schools and threatened layoffs of teachers, and the governor’s harsh and unhelpful comments.

Gilbert Sandler, the Baltimore storyteller, speaks about these contrasts all the time. Like a lot of city owls, he goes from being awed by things new and amazing to being completely dejected about the persistent problems. A lifelong Baltimorean, Sandler turned 94 last month. A friend took him for a tour of his old neighborhood, in lower Park Heights. It was a depressing ride.

“Houses are falling down, there is no life in the streets, my old house is boarded up,” Sandler says. “But, to my surprise, I came away from it all with a belief that we will somehow make these neighborhoods whole again. I thought, all of this building, all of this new construction all over town, all of the programs designed to address the problems, all of the people moving into downtown. There’s a lot of energy. I believe in the mystique of this city, in its power to heal itself. I still don’t think that’s so wild a dream.”