I am one of those people who probably would still have an afro if I could. I mean that not to reflect a love of big hair so much as acknowledge that I tend to appreciate static things. Memories are born of time and place and as time passes, places are sure to change. As such, returning to those places in search of your memories can often be a fruitless and frustrating experience.
I miss Harlem. I miss the subtle danger of it; knowing that I couldn’t walk down a certain street late at night without definitely getting got. As I walked past that street yesterday I noticed the police had portable floodlights running, chasing away any menace that old spot could hold. It just isn’t my Harlem anymore. The Apollo Theater has a Banana Republic attached to it. On the surface that seems like one of those, ‘so what?’ moments, but think through it. The Apollo is perhaps the most iconic black theater in the world. It is representative of the burgeoning black culture of the Harlem Renaissance. Banana Republic is a high thread count, high-end version of the GAP. The GAP.
I cannot say that all of the renovations to Harlem are bad, but I can say that they are largely designed to chase money and as a result chase the people who built the culture there out of there. Like my Aunt who passed, after spending fifty years in the same apartment in Lenox Terrace, most of the people who built the idea of what Harlem is and left a legacy of family are left to watch all of that swept away in a cloud of expanse and money.
Some Thoughts:
- Apologies for a painfully short blog yesterday. The funeral, burial, and post-funeral gathering lasted from early morning into well into the evening. This is a day I did not have the mind to write. I was burnt from the travel, emotions, and seeing so much family after such a long time. It was a warming family experience and the tribute to the memory of my great Aunt. It was also a lot for one day.
- On another note I want to thank my family and friends for all of the love and support that poured in. It is always comforting to know that in times of need you are not alone. My mother said words to that effect after everyone was gone and we were left with the conversation of ‘what happens next?’
- I also learned that being a grown up means handling stuff. It means more than just being the guy people turn to but being prepared to be that guy—being knowledgeable and ready for any situation that presents itself, because things are going to happen unexpectedly and people are going to turn to you for guidance.
- New York gave me a cold.