Saturday, May 14, 2016

Amazing Grace



I step into the Amazing Grace African Market where Uche(oo-chey) is bagging up plantains, four for $2. Uche is about my height, 5’ 9”, with a welcoming face and a round belly. He laughs easily and is quick to greet me. I tell Uche what I’m doing with my blog, that I want to get to get to know the people and places of Poughkeepsie and put the whole thing down on paper and share it with people. He smiles and says “one second”. Then he starts speaking in a language I’ve never heard before with a few English phrases like “talk to you later” mixed in. He reaches over and hangs up the cell-phone that I hadn’t noticed.
 
“I’m sorry man, I didn’t realize you were on a call.”


“No problem. I call him back. So what would you like to know?”


“Let’s start with what’s on the shelves,” I say. “Can you show me around?” It’s a small corner store, but there’s a lot to see.


“Sure, come on.” Uche starts with the palm cream “to make cream soup” he says, then the cassava leaf (which is something like spinach). Then there’s the palm oil for frying, powdered coco yam, powdered green plantain, cassava flour, and countless other ingredients I’ve never seen. In the freezer are whole red snapper and a big box unambiguously labeled “Cow Foot!”

There are imported African beauty products and Nigerian movies as well. He gives me a DVD labelled “Kidnap”, an action drama based on a true story. Uche tells me that new movies come out almost every week.


I’ve never seen another store like this and here it is in my own town on the corner of Clinton and Main. “People come from all over,” Uche tells me. “ I have people come from Newburgh, Middletown, Westchester county, Danbury, everywhere. I have people come from Canada. This is the BEST place.”


“You don’t have any problems here? No crime?”


“Well…” he says looking across the street, “They sell beer and loose cigarettes over there. People stand out there all day. It invites bad things.” I look up and notice the big screen TV hung above the plantains. It’s showing live video streams from all over the inside and outside of the store. “But those guys don’t bother me here. I don’t sell nothing they want. No beer, no liquor, no cigarette and I don’t let people stand around outside. But these people standing across the street, they need something to do. They let them out of prison and don’t give them no plan. Nothing to do, so they stand around outside the stores and they invite trouble in. They should give these people a broom. Tell them, this spot from Clinton to Cherry, that is your area. You keep it clean. No garbage. No spot of litter.”


Uche and I talk like this for almost an hour about everything from welfare to immigration to the best way to prepare fufu. He is proud of his place in the community, but nothing has come easy. Beneath that easy going smile there is a struggle; the fight to get to America, the hard nights driving taxis in NYC until he had enough to open his own store, the constant battle to keep it going, the crime he suspects just across the street, this strange country, his long road to citizenship and his struggle to have his mother join him here. And despite all this he tells me that America is great. “This is the BEST place,” he tells me.


He knows full well that there is crime, but that doesn’t distract him from a more important fact, “this is the HEART of Poughkeepsie” he tells me. His store used to be down near the corner of Main and Hamilton, but the rent was too high and he wasn’t finding the customers that wanted his products. “Location, location, location” he says, “There is a bus-stop one block up and all the people live here.”


Whatever problems there might be in his new neighborhood there are a lot of good people living there, people who enjoy a good meal and want the taste of home. Some fufu and snapper maybe, maybe some chicken peanut stew.


As we talk an older Jamaican woman comes in. She picks through the plantains for the best ones and she and Uche banter about how she should take one of the bags he already made up like everyone else. She keeps picking through the box. I can tell by the way Uche grins that this isn’t the first time he’s had this talk with her. Tonight, she tells us, will be her first night working after almost two years of job searching. Luckily her landlord’s been kind and let her stay even when she couldn’t pay. I wonder if Uche might have given her those plantains for free when she was out of work. It takes people helping each other sometimes just to get by. But she doesn’t expect charity. She wants to pay her landlord every cent that she owes and she’s happy for the work. At the end of five minutes I know more about this woman’s life than some friends I’ve had for years. Uche rings her out and goes back to bagging the plantains.

Poughkeepsie is a strange town. It’s a tough town. But it’s also a town where people are leaning on one another every day. Sometimes that means letting someone stay even when they can’t pay the rent. Sometimes that means believing in a place and its people despite the evidence and sometimes it means knowing the heart of a place when you see it.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Eye Witness

3/22/16
I’ve got off work this week, so I decide I should take the ol’ doggie on an extended walk. We trot down from Innis all the way to Market and grab a coffee and corn muffin at Alex’s restaurant. It’s a little brisk out but not uncomfortable. I take a bite of my muffin and stick the rest in my pocket and get the leash and coffee situated before we carry on walking.


We take Main St. back. I see a few people hanging out in front of that new deli next to the Heritage Center. Then I hear the yelling. My eyes dart to the left to see a man and a woman across the street. The sight stops me in my tracks. He’s pointing his finger, six feet of rage towering over this five foot woman wrapped in a puff coat. She’s crying, “Get away from me” “Nah, you don’t pull that shit bitch!” I can’t make out much, but it’s something about owing money. “Please, someone get him AWAY from me!” She yells. The men outside the deli aren’t more than ten feet away, but they don’t move. I can hardly blame them. I haven’t moved either. My mind is racing. “You wanna call the cops bitch” he yells, “go ahead and fuckin’ call ‘em!”


Yea, call the cops, I’ve got my hand on my cell phone but what are they gonna do? He hasn’t laid a finger on her yet and who knows what she owes him money for. Would she be in just as much trouble as him? Is that why he knows she won’t call? Is he pimping her out? Jesus Christ, it’s not even 9am, what the hell is going on? Besides, who knows how long it’s going to take for them to get here. I should probably do something. But the dog, what if this asshole starts kicking my dog. Then I’d have to kill him and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Who are you kidding Dan? He’d kick your ass. I bet this hot coffee would look good splashed across his face. Yea that’s great. Then he can beat the shit out of me and just get to her later. Why am I still standing here? Just a be a witness Dan, that’s something. Stop being a voyeur. Move on. Just..


And as my mind ineffectually races, a thin man in a hoodie, not much taller than the woman, starts crossing the street toward them, not running, but with purpose. He gets between them, even puts his hand on the tall man’s arm. I don’t know what he’s saying, but he’s got the man’s attention. But the woman doesn’t run. She doesn’t even move away. Maybe she expects this skinny stranger in a hoodie to fight for her? Maybe she thinks it’s hopeless? Maybe she’s frozen with a million thoughts just like me.


Then the tall man and the short woman walk away side by side. Not twenty feet down the road the tall man is screaming in this woman's face again. The skinny man is left standing there alone. He throws up his arms, defeated. He puts on his headphones and crosses back to my side of the street. I try to tell him that he’s a good man for at least trying to do something, but he doesn’t hear me over his music or he doesn’t acknowledge me anyway. He walks on. Head down. Disgusted with the real Poughkeepsie.


Leave a comment below. What should I have done? What could be done? Sad as it is, I doubt this is the last time I’ll witness something like this. It isn’t the first. And every time I’m left wondering if I could have or should have done something or anything at all. Have you been witness to this kind of madness? What did you do? Did it help?

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Poughkeepsie... Let's Dance!

And we start with a rock-step, step, step and rock-step. Got it? Good. Remember your frame. And rock-step. That's it. Now you're getting it. And rock-step.


I haven’t been doing this long, but my partner’s brand-new so I repeat what I’ve heard in my lessons. And rock step. She’s a bit shorter than me, but comes up to my height in her heels. She’s wearing a black dress and has black hair to match. I send her out and she follows like she’s been doing this for years. I keep it simple though, nothing like the couples around us bopping to the music, spinning, dipping, doing things I’ve never seen before while the live band is roaring. As we spin I catch a glimpse of my wife, Rosie, sitting in the blue plastic chairs smiling. She's got the next dance for sure.


The next one is slower and I pull Rosie in close. This one calls for a triple step and we move through the steps slow and smooth as syrup. Without the frenetic pace, I have a chance to take in the room here at the Poughkeepsie Tennis Club. The wide wood floors, the elegant stairs leading up to the lobby, the high ceilings, the beautiful chandeliers. It transports you to another era, a time even before the swing age of the twenties, thirties and forties, all the way to the late 19th century when this place was built. A time before cell-phones, TV, movies, or even radio. A time when community dances would have been one of the main entertainments to be had. A time when live music was the only music.


The music kicks me back to the present as the next number revs it up into high gear. By the end of the song we’re both ready to take a break and grab some water. I see a lot of other people have the same idea and I figure it’s probably a good time to interview a few people for the blog.


My one and only rule for my interviews is that the person I’m interviewing has to live in the city of Poughkeepsie. So I turn around and ask the person nearest to me “excuse me, do you live in Poughkeesie” “oh no, I’m here from Brooklyn actually.” She tells me that she’s here visiting her daughter and they came out together to the dance. Her daughter’s not from Poughkeepsie either. Neither is the next person I talk to or the one after that. I figure it’s a fluke, so I keep asking. But everyone I talk to is from somewhere else. And if you remember, this is a crowded dance. I start to suspect that Rosie and I might be the only ones at this dance that live in Poughkeepsie, but I’m determined. I go around systematically asking everyone who’s sitting out the dance. I ask over two dozen people. Aside from Brooklyn we’ve got New Paltz, Highland, Hyde Park, Pawling, Patterson, Fishkill, and just about everywhere else in a three county range except for Poughkeepsie.

You could be forgiven for thinking that in the modern age there were no community dances at all, that this event I’m describing is some kind of a one off fluke. Maybe that’s why people are coming from all over for this once in a lifetime event. Maybe you're afraid, dear citizens of Poughkeepsie, that you missed your one chance to swing dance. But you’d be wrong. If you live in Poughkeepsie you could go to a swing-dance at least once if not twice a week and never leave your hometown. 

There’s Po-Town Swing every Wednesday at Vassar College in Ely Hall and it’s not just for the students. People from 18 to 80 and everywhere in between come out for the lesson from 7:30 to 8:00 and the dance from 8:00 to 10:00. It’s another beautiful space and completely free to the public. Then there’s the fourth Friday dance at the Poughkeepsie Tennis Club which I describe above and another excellent dance on the third Sunday at the Arlington Reformed Church. There’s one tonight in fact, so if you’re feeling adventurous, polish those dancing shoes and get down there.

So I’m asking you Poughkeepsie, I’ve got my hand out with a smile on my face. I’m pretty new to this myself, but... would you like to dance?

Check out http://www.hudsonvalleydance.org/ for a calendar of all upcoming events. If you want some lessons before you take the plunge Chester and Linda from Got2Lindy are great.

Leave a comment if you've danced in Poughkeepsie. Where do you or did you go? What did you think of it?

Monday, January 4, 2016

Adaptation

A dead pig hangs in a Poughkeepsie storefront. Inside, a young woman by the name of Carlotta whistles as she takes apart a hind quarter, preparing various cuts for the customers. Sawdust covers the floor to catch the blood. Out front stands William Henry Davies, a recent Welch immigrant and owner of this shop. That’s his daughter cutting the meat inside. He watches as the sheep arrive after their march up Main St. from the train. They’re headed for the slaughter house around back which Davies also owns. He’s also got a livery stable back there and a general store not far off. If there’s something that people need, Davies will sell it, and that’s why business is good. The year is 1888 and Davies is living the American dream. It will be almost a hundred years before his great grandson, Matthew Davies, will take over in the late 1970’s and by then the store will have changed completely.


Could William possibly imagine how his store would change? Could he possibly guess or even hope that it would still be in his family in the year 2016? Can you, my reader, guess whether it will still be there in the year 2144? That’s the same amount of time in the future as the founding of the store is in the past. Both seem impossibly far away. I wouldn’t hazzard to guess anything about the year 2144 and 1888 seems equally a world apart. Yet the Davies family offers a line of continuity between that Poughkeepsie of the distant past and our present day and their story may offer an insight into how their store and Poughkeepsie generally can imagine its future.


What was passed on in the Davies family was not so much a particular business, but a parcel of land and a spirit of entrepreneurship. That spirit has guided the business to change with changing times. First it was a butcher shop, general store and livery stables, then the butcher shop and stables were replaced with a business distributing feed to livestock at local farms and finally it became the hardware store we know today with the surrounding property rented out. In each case the changes were a response to a changing Poughkeepsie.




When I go in to Davies Hardware for the first time I know none of its history. To me, it’s just the local hardware store and I need some sandpaper for my new electric sander. It’s really nice that I can walk there from my house and even nicer that they let me bring the dog inside. That means I can combine chores. The place is jam packed with everything you could need around the house from paint to brackets and screws and a million other things all in a space of one aisle of Home Depot. Despite being packed, everything is neat and organized.


Matt is the cashier at the checkout. He’s a tall man with short blond hair and a blue sweatshirt. He’s got a gentle smile and easy way about him. He offers a biscuit for my dog Chico. “Thanks,” I say, “I really like this place. Have you worked here long?” “About 40 years” he says. “That’s a long time. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” I explain to him about the blog and how I’m trying to learn more about Poughkeepsie and tell its story. He agrees and as we get talking I realize that he’s the owner.


He says “you can see where the old store was if you look at the floor. Over there where there’s wood floors, that’s the original store. The rest of it is additions” He tells me about his great grandfather starting with his butcher shop and how the store has changed.


It’s changed a lot even in his own lifetime. He tells me, “It isn’t always easy running a store. There was competition when Home Depot came in of course, but that wasn’t so bad. We’ve got loyal customers and service that Home Depot can’t touch. The real competition now is the internet. My daughter is helping to make sure people can see us online. She’s doing the Facebook page and is going to start posting on Craigslist.”


“Is she going to take over when you’re ready to retire?”


He holds up two crossed fingers and smiles. “I hope so… if that’s what she wants.”


“And what about you? Was it hard deciding to take over the business instead of doing something else.”


“No, not really. I have two older brothers. They both wanted to do something else, but for me, I always knew that I wanted to do this. I mean, it isn’t easy running a business. Things were really tough for a few years there during the recession. There were times when we were barely holding on” he holds up his fingers like a mountain climber to demonstrate the point, “I thought we might have to close the doors for good, but we made it through.”


“It seems pretty busy now.”


“Yea, well things are getting better. People are building again and doing repairs to their homes, so things are alright. One thing we’re working on now is hiring a bilingual person. It seems like a lot of people born here in the US don’t want the blue collar jobs, so we’ve got a lot of Spanish speaking clients. If we’re gonna help them we need to speak the language. You’ve just gotta keep adapting.”


That’s right, I think, you’ve got to keep adapting. In 1888 Matt’s great grandfather was an immigrant too. He saw a need in Poughkeepsie and he built a business by meeting it. Now a new wave of immigrants is moving in filling a new need. Davies is not sitting around lamenting how times have changed; they’re changing with the times.


The past lives on at Davies Hardware, but not as a museum piece. It is living because it’s changing. The old wood floor is surrounded by the cement additions. The brick and mortar is supported with social media. Even the language of business is adapting. The only way to survive, it seems, is to change.


“Hey listen, it’s been nice talking to you,” he tells me, “but I need to get back to work.” Why don’t you take this article. It’ll give you some more details about the history of the store.” He hands me a Poughkeepsie Journal article from March. I thank him and we say our goodbyes.  

I look around at the city surrounding Davies Hardware. Across the street is a Mexican restaurant and outside a man is talking on his cell phone. Down the road a bit someone is vaping an e-cigarette. Cars zip by in every direction. 128 years ago, when W.H. Davies started his business, this world in front of my eyes would have seemed completely alien. So much has changed. And just as William could not have imagined this city, it is impossible to imagine what the city might be like 128 years in our own future or how alien that world might look to us. What we can do is look around at this amazing present where we find ourselves, at the people and businesses who are making it work. We live in incredible times right here and now. The world is changing more quickly than ever before and that means opportunities are everywhere. If only we can see them. If only we can adapt.