This past weekend I had the opportunity to venture to my nana’s hometown, Shenandoah, Pennsylvania. Built on the success of the coal industry and a popular place for immigrant settlement, Shenandoah has a great deal of history encased in its buildings and denizens.
My nana spent part of her childhood on Shenandoah’s 30 West Coal Street. This address bustled with a plethora of Italian sights, sounds, smells, and, of course, stubbornness. In addition to housing my nana (Maria), my great nana (Raphaela), and my great-great nana and nonno (Carmela and Gennaro), the first floor of 30 West Coal Street was the location of my great nonno’s store. It was quite the hoppin’ place if I do say so myself.
Unfortunately, 30 West Coal Street no longer maintains its prescribed luster. Bits and pieces of broken glass serve as the apartment’s welcome mat, and there is a rolled up paper tucked behind the doorframe that reads “No Trespassing.” With gaping holes and caving ceilings, the neighboring shoe store looks like it should be on the set of very depressing documentary. It pained me to see my nana stand and attempt to smile amidst the rubble and remnants of a life that once was.
The ubiquitous despair in Shenandoah really struck my family members. I couldn’t help but wonder if Shenandoah’s current state halted my family from previously visiting my nana’s hometown. For some context, 30 West Coal Street is 44 minutes from my nana’s current place of residence.
Unlike my family members, I was not very “startled” by what I saw in Shenandoah. Living in Detroit and working with people who were formerly homeless, I am exposed to drastic sights of distress on a daily basis. I see buildings and homes that look as if no one has been in them for multiple decades. I see people who have lost sight of their spark and who have to rely on a series of medication routines to help them get through their day. I hear stories of time spent in prison and Vietnam. I can feel the heartache in stories about racism’s ugly pervasive scars. One friend of mine was injured while playing his trumpet during intermediate school. In the middle of my friend’s performance, someone in the audience threw a chair at him.
My friend has experienced much pain in his life, but one would never know with his resilient and optimistic attitude. The majority of his conversations consist of exciting new things that he has learned and has yet to learn. My friend’s thirst for knowledge is absolutely remarkable. Today, he was bursting at the the seams to tell me how his first computer class went.
Included in this blog are photographs that I have taken in Detroit and Shenandoah. They are not the most pleasing to view, but they are to serve as reminders to actively seek out the hidden beauty of the surrounding world. It may be under ashen buildings or behind blank stares, but I can assure you that the beauty is there; you just have to look. Seek and you shall find the flowers that are poking through the concrete pavement.
Be patient. Be open. Be positive.
Nurture the world, and the world will nurture you.
Reblogged this on naldensmich and commented:
What an extremely well written and powerful blog post…it inspired and touched me. I’ve recently been watching a doc on Netflix which covers cities like Detroit and Shenandoah; Gary, Indiana being one of them. There is a lot of history, but hopefully also a lot to come.