To Be a New Yorker (Day 5)

"In chess, you have to sacrifice and plan three or four different ways to go about it," says Tahadi, as he moves his pawn across the chessboard. He looks artistically at the board, making sure he's taking the proper steps to defeat his opponent. What Tahadi may or may not realize is that his quote about the game can be used to describe how one overcomes his or her obstacles in life, and how one must stay alert in case he or she is thrown a curveball. What this service trip has taught me is that poverty isn't a checkmate; it's missed move here, an unexpected opponent move there. These moves eventually pile up upon each other, leaving one's chance at victory at odds. 

We started our day making the scenic subway ride to Brooklyn, home of a plethora of culture that I had only experienced through oral tradition until this moment. Brooklyn has always had a sense of pride, having the only professional sporting teams that claim true to a single county and an abundance of rappers flaunting braggadocio by claiming "Brooklyn is the borough." While Manhattan is concerned with the hustle and bustle of businesses both large and small, Brooklyn (known to some as "The Planet") was definitively created as a residential hub. I was ready to see a different side of the city, and could not be stopped from looking out the subway window after crossing the East River. The atmosphere of living in unity as a neighborhood struck me upon entering the borough, and from that point I knew that this service experience would differ from the one of the day before.

We exited the subway in the southern part of the borough, and to our surprise, the exit was above ground. The destination was right below the tracks and we got a glimpse of the organization we were dealing with. Ted, the leader, told us about his humble background and how his service was a direct result of wanting to help ease the problem that was so blatant in his neighborhood. The interesting thing about the organization was that Ted had no business background and did not understand how to effectively operate the organization until well after opening its doors. To put it frankly, Ted stopped in his tracks to help the less fortunate, a task that you and I would have great trouble doing if asked. His compassion for the impoverished was blatant, and being able to help his fellow Brooklynites was all he needed to achieve actualization. His organization's process seemed simple: an eligible individual would order a grocery list, an employee would put together their order, and an individual or family could take home their food. Although people would occasionally come into the building without proper documentation of needing assistance, the process was ran smoothly, with those asking for food receiving it in a timely manner. Ted's love for the less fortunate has been making an impact in his neighborhood by reducing hunger; however, the entirety of his operations are not as flawless as the collecting of groceries. 

Another theme of this trip that came to fruition at this location was looks cannot determine a situation. Although the grocery area was very organized, the basement was nothing short of disaster. Food and other seemingly random items were scattered about, leaving very little room to move about. I mainly helped with the organization process, which consisted of me moving boxes of food around so a shelf, which would prevent fines to the organization, could be installed. I wondered how this much food got here in the first place, and as a result, pondered what they did with the extra food that they could not hand out. We soon realized as a group that feeding the hungry was not necessarily an issue of supply, but rather distribution. If this pantry had a network of other pantries in the area to distribute unneeded food products, their basement would not have been as much of a mess. More importantly, people who need to be fed could do so in a more efficient manner. At the end of the day, my work seemed to only be a small piece of an everlasting puzzle. I learned that non-profit organizations are not ran without flaws, and discovered that a pantry could actually have too much food. Finally, I began to understand that volunteering does not always have to be glamorous, and could at least leave knowing we made an impact. 

My favorite part of the trip came that night, when we had a dinner party with a variety of guests that were struggling to find permanent housing. Cooking the dinner was our responsibility, but as I was assigned to cook the garlic bread, I had ample time to converse with the guests. It occurred early to me that paying attention to them was non-negotiable, as their wisdom and life lessons cannot be reciprocated by those in my immediate circle. I talked with a man named Sam, born and raised in the Lower East Side, who loved boasting about the ins and outs of the city. He could talk all day about the local delis, his favorite ball players, and how Steinbrenner sucked the soul out of the team from the Bronx. He could also pick apart our class from locals with ease, with me being the exception. He was shocked to hear of my Irish ancestry, but nevertheless admitted I had the looks of a New Yorker. From him, I learned that being a New Yorker was not something that one could simply look the part for. He or she being given the title must act like a member of the city, cherishing their attitude, demeanor, and cleverness. Although I have lived in the Midwest for the entirety of my life, I must admit that my personality did not deviate from those who resided in the city we visited.

Another man, who went by the name of Mike, discussed how he could play a slew of percussion instruments and thrived at live performance. With him being older, I asked him if he shared my love of jazz music. He excitedly confirmed, and talked about the wonderment of growing up during the bebop era in New York. Being a percussionist, he listed Art Blakey as his favorite, and recommended I listen to him once I had the opportunity. Although Mike was not very open to begin the conversation, he had no problem sharing information once we found a subject that suited the interests of both parties. I learned from him that there are events in all of our lives that make us excitedly reminisce on times past, regardless of one's current living situation. Tahandi, a Guyanese man from Queens, was filled with knowledge. His family and he moved to the country when he was young, and he excitedly recalled easier times in an environment that was not as hectic. He returned to the states, and while incarcerated, picked up his chess skills while watching more experienced players battle. Tahadi used the game to clear his head from the New York state of mind. From this part of the conversation, I understood that living in the city was more than just waking up every morning. One must grind out every minute of the day, leaving many wanting a calmer environment. He eventually wants to leave the city to find a more peaceful environment to settle down. Although tempting, I did not ask if he wanted to live in Des Moines in an exchange for me to move to his city. 

Lastly, I talked to a man named Cade, born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. My conversation with Cade was peculiar, as he had not opened up to any of the other students who had tried to communicate with him. In fact, the first time I tried talking to him, he was talking to his wife on FaceTime, leaving me unable to properly introduce myself. Later, I gave the conversation another attempt, and to my surprise, he had something to say in return. He stated unabridged that New York was overrated, and stayed true to his roots. Locals Stephen Curry and Cam Newton were his favorite athletes, and he was an avid fan of UNC's basketball team. As we talked more, I could see him becoming more comfortable around me, and began sharing personal details that he would not have revealed twenty minutes prior. We shared a common bond with basketball and old school R&B music, and as he continued the conversation with me, I became troubled in my own thoughts. Why would this man become comfortable talking to me? How can an introverted, small-talk avoiding, fake-smile devoid guy like myself be finding success talking to another with similar traits? At that moment, I understood why we clicked. We shared the same mentality, keeping to ourselves until we find something we are passionate about, and yearned for comfort with our surroundings. Our goals in life revolve around finding an area that we can truly call home, and both of us only want to keep conversation if it is conducive to these goals. It was through Cade that I learned more about myself; what I really was searching for in life, and how I configured my actions to aid my search. He must have sensed a common bond between us, which would explain why he finally decided to open up. After talking to him, I realized we were not much different; both of us human, introverted, and constantly searching for the external comfort that we have not sensed.

After getting home from the dinner party, I listened to one of Art Blakey's most famous songs, titled "Night in Tunisia". I had forgotten this was a Blakey piece, as I had played it in my high school jazz ensemble. For Mike's sake, I listened only to Blakey's drumming and percussion playing through the piece. His playing can be described as bold, busy, and demanding importance, a perfect representation of life in New York City and how one must act just to get by. Although it seems like a cliche, I learned that New York life is really as difficult as described. It takes a magician to simply pay rent in the city, and people have little compassion for the less fortunate because they are constantly surrounded by them. There are so many homeless and impoverished people that its residents have been sensationalized to the idea. What could I really teach someone who is homeless, other than what they have already heard? Nothing. Alternatively, I can learn just about everything I have not been taught from one who is homeless. This service trip was not about the minor impact we made on a few organizations or the less fortunate we helped for a few hours. It was about humbling ourselves and interacting with these people, whom we soon realized were very much like us.  I learned that at the end of the day, we are all scraping along to get by, whether it be in the form of studying, working, or paying the bills. As Tahadi said, we all eventually have to make sacrifices, it is just the form of the sacrifices that differentiate us. We all are trying to find peace and comfort with our surroundings, and like Cade and me, have not yet achieved this. More importantly, we are all confined under the some of the same labels after all else is considered. To Sam, labeling me a New Yorker was not out of the question, as he thought I had the look and the mentality to fill the part. I would be honored to be able to share the same title as these fellows, and perhaps one day I will.

-Written by Christian Higgins