Two Dorchesters

I've been thinking about a statistic I read in the Globe recently.  I'm not going to look it up or link to it because it's a stat that's already been stuck in my mind.  How accurate it may be, I haven't researched, but some variation is part of common, ingrained perception and, quite likely, part of common reality in this part of Boston.

The average household income in Dorchester is $28,000 a year.

Whether that sounds like a lot or a little depends on where you begin to measure.  For our regular readers who live in Hinton, West Virginia, it's a little for the Boston area.  Very little.

Living where I do, by the JFK/UMASS MBTA station (that's the subway to you Hintonites), I don't see any abject poverty.  Believe me: $28,000 will not support a nuclear family in Boston.  The rent on a two bedroom apartment will consume half that and more, not including utilities.  This may explain the lack of nuclear families in Dorchester, but again...I don't see a lot of single parent households where I live, not that I'm taking a detailed census or spying on my neighbors.

Some parts of Dorchester are like the part I live in.  Adams Village, Neponset, Pope's Hill, Ashmont Hill, Jones Hills, Mount Bowdoin, the Polish Triangle, Point Norfolk, Lower Mills; they are all fairly stable, middle class, whatever middle class means.  Let's say the people I pass on the street don't seem to be going without.  They are also primarily located near train stations and they are also predominantly white.

I do not like to dwell on racial differences on the Matrix.  I usually make it a point to avoid discussing them, but they exist.  Different parts of Dorchester have different ethnicities, to be sure,  The same differences in skin color and income that demark other places also occur in the Dot.  It isn't pretty, but it is true.  Sometimes it's good, sometimes not.  Again, it depends on where you start to measure.

If I looked at the tax records for my neighborhood, I suspect the average income isn't dragging the neighborhood average downwards.  This part of Dot is full of college students working part time jobs, but they are paying market rate rents and living, as some scholars do, at the local bars soaking up cheap food and suds.  Just eyeballing the lay of the land, I suspect what lowers Dorchester's median income figures are the neighborhoods roughly west or northeasterly of Washington Street: Four Corners, Codman Square, Talbot Avenue, Norfolk Avenue, Columbia Road, Blue Hill Avenue, East Cottage Street, Bowdoin/Geneva, and other terrain that doesn't have names for its neighborhoods, just a collection of pins on a police station map.

There are two Dorchesters.  Both of them are equally welcoming and equally convivial. I've never witnessed a crime being committed in Dorchester and I have been down most streets and I am out most hours of the day and night.  I have never been uncomfortable.

There is a different culture to the west than there is to the east of Dot Ave, which is an approximate, handy boundary line.  The east is whiter and more asian (whether Vietnamese or Chinese it's hard to say).  The west is darker and more hispanic (or Haitian or Cape Verdean).  You can't really say one side is old Dot stock and the other side is new.  African Americans have been a majority in some parts of Dorchester for more than half a century.  They aren't immigrants.  They are Dorchesterites.

East plus West equals the middle ground, which is somewhere near Field's Corner.

I've been thinking about this over the past few months and, unlike my usual folderol, I thought I would work through more serious musings in public.  I'm trying to develop a Dot-view that is more panoramic than the one I have now.  As I say, I have been almost everywhere, but as a transplant, I have been almost everywhere as someone passing through, or as someone from Savin Hill,  rather than as a native.  A fellow citizen, perhaps.  Some people live in a Dot microcosm.  I am  one of them.  I want to take in more of the macro view.

I don't usually solicit comments but I invite you to add your observations and thoughts.  Let's discuss.

Mad Dogs and New Londoners

There is no pug more threatening than the ugly mug of a hungry New Londoner. When New Londoners travel to the suburbs, when they eat at the Olive Garden or Appleby’s they don’t like the food. They usually push away the half-finished plates of pabulum. Besides McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s and numerous Subway chains, New London is full of entrepreneurs handy with a spatula and a spice rack, No food out of a microwave will ever satsufy as much as fresh ingredients bought that morning and cooked under the broiler with devotion to craft.

New Londoners do things their own way, in ways they polished over the centuries since the city’s founding in 1646, You can tweak perfection, but you cannot really improved on it. New things are new, bur they are not better. If a New Londoner lacks patience, it is because he or she had perpspectve. If a New Londoner slavers, it is because he or she is rabidly hungry for something authentic and not out of a can. Give this beast steak, not dried nuggets out of a bag that make their own gravy when water is added.

Chop, Chop Chop It Up

There are as many poets in New London as there are people. In a Whitmanesque sense, we are all poets. We all create art, just by going about our business and we create beauty just by being ourselves. It is easy to be beautiful in New London, Conn.

There are about twelve serious poets in New London who consider themselves a school. They share New London in common and that makes them of like mind and intent. They are in love with the sounds of their own voices, as any real poet should be. Whalehead King, though he strikes many a off-key note, is a perfect example. This most prosaic of writers is lumped in with the caste of poets, though he would never call himself one. He is hard to pidgeon hole and the pidgeon is the mascot of The New London School of Poets new journal. It is called Chopper and the poets chose that title for a reason. They parse words and ideas with a certain dogged sensibility that only New London could nurture. Dogs scare and chase pidgeons off New London's sidewalks every chance they get.

You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a New London artiste, be it a poet, actor, playwrite or painter. This is a city that encourages creativity. If you cannot entertain yourself, you won't find much to do in New London. It is a city of exhibistionist mastubators. This is not an observation of those who write poetry in a New London state of mind. It is an observation of creators who put their product in front of a public that doesn't care.

This is an essay that goes nowhere, it circles its tail the way New London poetry falls into ellipses.... Sometimes you don't know when the writer/reader is done until the awkward pause when nothing is going on so people start to clap. At least on a page, you will be able to tell when a poem has finished. The page ends and another title appears opposite.

That is literature.

Kollision Results!

Well, it wasn't boring. Everything unfolded New London Perfect! The Berlin Pilgrim v. Whalehead King in a sparring match of poesy. Excitement was at a fever pitch. No one could wait for a warm-up act. The first line on the bill was reserved for these two gladiators of the spoken word. The combatants opened Open Mike Night with a bang.

On a stage improvised to look like a druid altar complete with evergreen and holly, Mr. King introduced the challenge. A murmur of anticipation swept through the crowd like the courtroom at a murder trial. A video camera was set up to record this moment for posterity. The Berlin Pilgrim took the floor while Mr. King sat back at a respectful distance. The verbal fireworks began.

To listen to the crowd gathered to watch this contest, you would have thought it was the Fourth of July if you didn't knnow it was January 17th. The cries of "ooooooo!" and "aaaaaaah!" sometimes drowned out the combatants as they read their work aloud. By the end of the tournament, both Spinelli and King were hoarse trying to be heard over the applause and the boos.

So who won? There is no definitive answer. The jury is out. We could watch the video and replay the highlights to make a decision, but remember: the night was New London Perfect. Someone left the lenscap on the camera. Some claim The Berlin Pilgrim upset Whalehead King during Round 2 and our hero never recovered. Others claim The Pilgrim never stood a chance and even if he made Whalehead King stumble, good ol' Whalehead remains the people's choice.

Niether competitor is happy with the outcome. Both have already agreed to a rematch in a month. Rest assured, during the next Kream Kollision someone is going to get a Komeuppance!!!

Something Spinellish Is Around.

When you walk past a gaggle of pre-teens waiting for the school bus and they call you spinellish, you can't be sure it's a compliment. Adolescents hate the idea of standing out in a crowd. Conformity to a clique is the rule. When you are spinellish, you aren't the nail that gets hammered down. You are the nail that makes the carpenter bang his thumb.

Sometimes the breeze off Long Island sound smells spinellish. It smells faintly like green tea and honey mixed with aspic and soy milk. It isn't cinnamon or clove or lemon zest. If it resembles any spice, it is closest to a hint of nutmeg.

A butterfly is spinellish while a seagull is not. A moth and a pigeon are spinellish, but not a mosquito or swan. New London, Conn has become a little spinellish in the last year. There is something spinellish in the air, something spinellish on the streets. People have begun to take on spinellish habits and to talk in spinellish ways.

A spinellish storm is brewing today. The clouds are expected to open at 8:00 PM tonight at Kream Coffeehouse, 318 State Street, New London, of course. An umbrella won't protect you.

Good Things Aplenty

What good deeds were performed in New London today? A car was parked on School Street with its lights on. Whalehead King knocked on the door of the house in front of which it was parked. The lady of the house was in the middle of mopping the kitchen and unhappy to be disturbed. She brightened up and thanked her hero profusely when she learned his mission. Case closed and another battery saved.

What good deeds will be performed tomorrow? No one can say. One thing is for sure: Whalehead King is going to match wits against the Berlin Pilgrim's at Kream Coffeehouse on State Street at 8:00 PM. A crowd of cogniscenti is expected to watch this combat of words between the home-town hero and the newcomer. Be there or be square.

So Easy A New Londoner Could Do It.

New London is a city of brooding brows and ruddy complexions. It is a city that knows little of the modern world. New Londoners live in their own Golden Age during which theirs was a city people admired. That is why poets love New London. They also live in a parallell world that is full of promise and attention.

New London is a playground for Romantics. The sublime snuggles up with the mundane. There is ample material about which to feel remorse and joy. New London is the setting for operas and epics yet to be written. Dreamers recognize this fact and flock to New London to do something worth remembering.

There are 168 municipalities in Connecticut, but there is only one New London. There are 23 New London's in other states, but there is only one New London, Conn. There is an old London and there is a New London. In a contest of two, there is a winner and an almost-winner. New London doesn't recognize comparisons. This city is a champion.

The Berlin Pilgrim v. Whalehead King. Wed, Jan 17 at Kream, 8:00PM. Both are champions. At the end of the night one will be a winner while the other will be almost. It is so easy even a caveman could do it.

Celebrity Shrug Match

Besides local politicitans, which people are well-known in New London? We are obviously using the 'well-known' definition loosely. Besides local politicians, what citizens make a difference in Connecticut's Whaling City? Obviously this is another bar set low, since many people make more of a difference in this community than those employed in its government.

After landlords, New London's predominant caste is its artists. These two set the tone and the tenor of what develops downtown especically, but also farther afield, from Hodges Square to Neptune Park. These two cast the mold of how New London is seen in the world.

New London's personalities are more important than its elected leaders. People make a city, not a charter.

David Spinelli is a pilgrim from Berlin, Conn. who has landed on New London's shore. He has lived here a little less than a year. He is a quiet man who has insinuated himself into a number of the city's subcultures. He means no ill. He is more cure than contagion. He is a modern gentleman who brings a global sensibilitiy to his immediate surroundings.

Whalehead King is a man who has flourished where he has found himself transplanted. He has folded his soul into New London's spirit. His city is his self. No one knows New London like Whalehead King, who knows New London like the back of his eyelids.

Mr. Spinelli proposed to Mr. King that the two match wits and talent in a duel of poetry. Words are New London's favorite medium whether set to music or to coffee shop bustle. Would our man-about-town accept the stranger's challenge? Yes. Mr. Spinelli chose three themes and the two agreed to write three poems, read them in public, face to face, poem for poem, head to head, may the best man win. Length is limited to a half-page per subject so as not to try the audience's patience.

Mr. Spinelli is too unknown a quantity to predict. Mr. King's work is as parochial and folksy as an aristocrat of the gutter can muster. No one knows what the results will be. Odds favor Whalehead King, but the Spinellli Factor looms to upset rational predictions. When the night is done a new head may be crowned as New London's Bard.

Kream Kollision!!!

The duel is on and a buzz is being generated. Tongues are wagging about the upcoming death match between Mr. David Spinelli, The Berlin Pilgrim and Whalehead King. Expectations are high, perhaps exceedingly so.

For the record: No blood should be shed. There will not be fisticuffs. The Pilgrim and The Ambassador are on good terms and neither wants to see the other hurt. Despite the lack of actual violence, this should be an interesting time. Expect a tsunami of metaphors and alliteration in a teacup. If the idea gets your heart pumping, you had better be at Kream Koffeehouse on Wednesday night, January 17.

Mr. Spinelli chose the topics so Whalehead King is on unfamiliar terrain. He will not be able to talk about only New London, or will he? As to what Mr. Spinelli is up to, no one knows. The topics are two serious and one trivial. We all know where Mr. King excels, but what are the challenger's strengths? We are biting our nails in anticipation.