Although I have lived in Florida since 2005, my first home was Harlem.
Specifically, 139th between Broadway and Riverside. My apartment looked out over the Hudson River and I got to watch the sky turn hot pink/orange/red over New Jersey’s horizon in the evening.
Growing up in a 24-story building made me an apartment dweller probably for life. I still live in an apartment, even now, in Florida. Got me used to rubbing elbows on elevators, smelling who knows what wafting down hallways or through the radiator…
Apartment living gave me a sense of community and village that has never left me.
I think that “communal” upbringing ultimately accentuated my general nosey (some might call it curious) personality. It caused me to be acutely aware of those around me, and probably, by extension, to wonder about what’s going on in our world in
Growing up in New York when it was still the greatest city on Earth — there was so so so much beauty. There was theater, and art, and dance, and museums, and lots and lots and lots of music (my dad was a
Especially in Harlem.
Harlem was sticky summer smells, salsa till dawn, concrete, rivers,
Harlem was late nights at La Famille on 125, Jazzmobile at Grant’s Tomb, and Perk’s on 122nd & Manhattan Ave, where I met my kids’ dad.
Harlem was my family. And it was home.
I think it was Michelle Wallace who said something about the Harlem of the mind… To me, basically I understood it as, you can take the girl out of Harlem, but you can’t take the Harlem out of the girl.
I think that probably explains a lot about the way I vibe, write, listen, mother, play, commune, share, create, and work. I think I still have a Harlem State of Mind. But that’s ok with me. ‘Cause, once upon a time, Harlem was cool, baby.
