The Homewood Chronicles, Part I − 22 August, 2004
I (a white girl) had read many books by African-American authors, and any time a ghetto was the setting, the ghetto in question was located either in New York city or in the Deep South.
For several months, I had been reading the books of John Edgar Wideman. Many of his books revolve in some form or another around Homewood, the neighborhood where he was raised. To finally read about a place located not only in the city where I was raised, but also in a neighborhood not very far from where I grew up was extremely gratifying. This was a place I might actually one day visit. A trip to Homewood would not only add meaning to the books I had been reading, but would also broaden my relationship with a city I loved.
Introduction to Homewood Chronicles
I had been planning all along to go to Homewood alone (during my visit home), on whichever day everyone was at work. Originally, this would have been Friday (see the "Introduction"). When the trip got moved back, this day turned out to be Monday. Homewood started out just being the thing I was going to do because I'd be there during one day when no one was around. Dad must have thought that this was something we would do together. He even brought it up as something we might do today. I was not even close to being ready to go to Homewood. I had not looked at a map, and had wanted to do it with an entire day ahead of me because I had no idea how long it would take or what might come up.
Also, it was a personal quest for me, so I had not shared much of my thinking with anyone. In general, despite having just spent perhaps six months reading little aside from African-American literature, I'd not discussed my thinking with anyone, except perhaps my husband. Once again, it was a deeply personal quest, and I didn't know anyone else who studied the subject, so I did not make it a point to share this interest. That's an introvert for you. I don't share my thinking about most of my personal endeavors with others. I have brought up some of my more eccentric pursuits with a friend only to have a conversation turn into dead silence.
My plan for Homewood was pretty low-key: take a very lovable dog for building a bridge between myself and Homewood's residents; take a look at the streets about which John Edgar Wideman wrote; try to locate the row houses where he and his siblings had grown up; and get out. I knew I wouldn't fit in, and that people would wonder what the heck I was doing there. I wanted to be personable, but low-key, and did not want to wear out my welcome.
Dad presented a very different, more formal and educational approach, which took me by surprise because I had not even considered that he might be interested in going. I did not even know he had thought about it. Mom had told me on the phone that he would not want to go, and I had given the matter no further thought. This made for some awkward moments, and I felt badly. Dad and I had on many occasions visited neighborhoods which were unfamiliar, or familiar to him, but from the distant past. It made sense that he might want to go along, but it had just never occurred to me to think of that in the case of this trip, perhaps because we had not gone on this type of adventure for such a long time.
I didn't know how to explain to Dad why I had not thought of him when I planned the trip. The reasons were complex, and I didn't think that I could adequately explain them in a conversation at this time. We did not discuss it any further. Fortunately, the awkward moments seemed to pass, and we had a nice hike, accompanied by stimulating conversation.
Two Homewoods
Some people believe that there are no accidents. I don't know. But when I fetched the Sunday paper, the front wrapper section was about Homewood. What are the chances that a randomly selected weekend for a visit would just happen to coincide with a front-page spread on the very neighborhood that is a major component of the visit?
And how much more of a coincidence is this because of the many factors conspiring to make this visit happen on some other weekend?
The spread was all about the more privileged residents of Homewood being upset that the only press Homewood seems to get is bad press. People only hear about shootings or about any of the other things that one associates with bad neighborhoods. In these residents' Homewood, a lot of good things are happening. There are nice houses, good families, and plenty of programs and resources in service of the community at large.
The photos showed pleasant homes, a nuclear family, kids playing football, and all those things that every good neighborhood has.
That Homewood is not the Homewood about which John Edgar Wideman writes. Wideman's Homewood certainly does not lack a sense of family or community. But it most certainly lacks the resources and opportunities of the Homewood described in the newspaper spread. Wideman's Homewood offers its young men several possible futures - prison, violent death, or at best, a life of struggling to get nowhere and build nothing.
Before I had seen the positive write-up in the newspaper, I had realized that I should not visit Homewood with an assumption that Wideman is any kind of local hero. After all, he's the guy that made it, got away, and stayed away. His books might be intimately involved with the history of Homewood and the lives of its inhabitants. But he did not raise his family in Homewood. He lives in Massachusetts.
In his book "Hiding Place", one of his scenes paints a picture of how he himself might look through the eyes of a simple-minded boy observing a scene between Wideman and an uncle who has always lived in Homewood. This insightful writing makes it clear that despite Wideman's history in and connection to Homewood, someone who did not already know him would think him to be an outsider.
I am sure that Wideman is a local hero to some in Homewood. But the newspaper spread suggested to me an additional reason why he might not be a hero to others. Would the people in this article be pleased about a small library of novels portraying the underbelly of Homewood?
Not all of Wideman's writing concerns the more painful aspects of Homewood's history. Much of it bursts with pride in the stories that belong uniquely to Homewood. Many of his stories seem to belong to his own family's long proud history in Homewood.
However, there is little doubt that the environment that Wideman portrays makes it difficult, if not impossible, for men and women to reach anything close to their full potential. The community provides a sort of buffer between individuals and a society largely designed by a race of people with very little love for the Black man. However, families struggle to remain whole. Women lose sons and husbands, children lose their fathers, and men lose their lives, their freedom, and their souls.
For several months, I had been reading the books of John Edgar Wideman. Many of his books revolve in some form or another around Homewood, the neighborhood where he was raised. To finally read about a place located not only in the city where I was raised, but also in a neighborhood not very far from where I grew up was extremely gratifying. This was a place I might actually one day visit. A trip to Homewood would not only add meaning to the books I had been reading, but would also broaden my relationship with a city I loved.
Introduction to Homewood Chronicles
I had been planning all along to go to Homewood alone (during my visit home), on whichever day everyone was at work. Originally, this would have been Friday (see the "Introduction"). When the trip got moved back, this day turned out to be Monday. Homewood started out just being the thing I was going to do because I'd be there during one day when no one was around. Dad must have thought that this was something we would do together. He even brought it up as something we might do today. I was not even close to being ready to go to Homewood. I had not looked at a map, and had wanted to do it with an entire day ahead of me because I had no idea how long it would take or what might come up.
Also, it was a personal quest for me, so I had not shared much of my thinking with anyone. In general, despite having just spent perhaps six months reading little aside from African-American literature, I'd not discussed my thinking with anyone, except perhaps my husband. Once again, it was a deeply personal quest, and I didn't know anyone else who studied the subject, so I did not make it a point to share this interest. That's an introvert for you. I don't share my thinking about most of my personal endeavors with others. I have brought up some of my more eccentric pursuits with a friend only to have a conversation turn into dead silence.
My plan for Homewood was pretty low-key: take a very lovable dog for building a bridge between myself and Homewood's residents; take a look at the streets about which John Edgar Wideman wrote; try to locate the row houses where he and his siblings had grown up; and get out. I knew I wouldn't fit in, and that people would wonder what the heck I was doing there. I wanted to be personable, but low-key, and did not want to wear out my welcome.
Dad presented a very different, more formal and educational approach, which took me by surprise because I had not even considered that he might be interested in going. I did not even know he had thought about it. Mom had told me on the phone that he would not want to go, and I had given the matter no further thought. This made for some awkward moments, and I felt badly. Dad and I had on many occasions visited neighborhoods which were unfamiliar, or familiar to him, but from the distant past. It made sense that he might want to go along, but it had just never occurred to me to think of that in the case of this trip, perhaps because we had not gone on this type of adventure for such a long time.
I didn't know how to explain to Dad why I had not thought of him when I planned the trip. The reasons were complex, and I didn't think that I could adequately explain them in a conversation at this time. We did not discuss it any further. Fortunately, the awkward moments seemed to pass, and we had a nice hike, accompanied by stimulating conversation.
Two Homewoods
Some people believe that there are no accidents. I don't know. But when I fetched the Sunday paper, the front wrapper section was about Homewood. What are the chances that a randomly selected weekend for a visit would just happen to coincide with a front-page spread on the very neighborhood that is a major component of the visit?
And how much more of a coincidence is this because of the many factors conspiring to make this visit happen on some other weekend?
The spread was all about the more privileged residents of Homewood being upset that the only press Homewood seems to get is bad press. People only hear about shootings or about any of the other things that one associates with bad neighborhoods. In these residents' Homewood, a lot of good things are happening. There are nice houses, good families, and plenty of programs and resources in service of the community at large.
The photos showed pleasant homes, a nuclear family, kids playing football, and all those things that every good neighborhood has.
That Homewood is not the Homewood about which John Edgar Wideman writes. Wideman's Homewood certainly does not lack a sense of family or community. But it most certainly lacks the resources and opportunities of the Homewood described in the newspaper spread. Wideman's Homewood offers its young men several possible futures - prison, violent death, or at best, a life of struggling to get nowhere and build nothing.
Before I had seen the positive write-up in the newspaper, I had realized that I should not visit Homewood with an assumption that Wideman is any kind of local hero. After all, he's the guy that made it, got away, and stayed away. His books might be intimately involved with the history of Homewood and the lives of its inhabitants. But he did not raise his family in Homewood. He lives in Massachusetts.
In his book "Hiding Place", one of his scenes paints a picture of how he himself might look through the eyes of a simple-minded boy observing a scene between Wideman and an uncle who has always lived in Homewood. This insightful writing makes it clear that despite Wideman's history in and connection to Homewood, someone who did not already know him would think him to be an outsider.
I am sure that Wideman is a local hero to some in Homewood. But the newspaper spread suggested to me an additional reason why he might not be a hero to others. Would the people in this article be pleased about a small library of novels portraying the underbelly of Homewood?
Not all of Wideman's writing concerns the more painful aspects of Homewood's history. Much of it bursts with pride in the stories that belong uniquely to Homewood. Many of his stories seem to belong to his own family's long proud history in Homewood.
However, there is little doubt that the environment that Wideman portrays makes it difficult, if not impossible, for men and women to reach anything close to their full potential. The community provides a sort of buffer between individuals and a society largely designed by a race of people with very little love for the Black man. However, families struggle to remain whole. Women lose sons and husbands, children lose their fathers, and men lose their lives, their freedom, and their souls.
Comments:
peahayes (February 16, 2008. 07:56pm)
Thank you. This is one of my favorite pieces and it means a lot to me.
straticos (March 12, 2008. 06:34am)
So what was it like? I mean you probably know that I know at least a little about Homewood having grown up in Pittsburgh, but I have to say that, well It's not that bad. yea, it's bad, and it's way out there in terms of opportunity just like you thought, but... There's humanity there, and fear is definately shared for what I've seen. Try being white, and bringing a kid home from Juvie hall. That's a real take. I'd love to talk with you about this one!!! D
peahayes (March 15, 2008. 04:53am)
"The Homewood Chronicles, Part II" explains what it was like. Reading your comment, I realize that much could have changed between now and the timeframes about which Wideman wrote. Compared to inner city ghettos in the larger cities, Homewood would probably be considered quite tame. Nevertheless, it didn't seem like a pleasant place. The day on which I visited was hot as Hades, and there were no trees to provide shade. There were some burned out boarded up row houses that I personally would find disheartening if I lived there. But as Part II says, I never felt unsafe. I would not have tried to walk through the Hill District, though. Let me know in private if you want to talk more!