November Project by Brogan Graham

Author:Brogan Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Potter/Ten Speed/Harmony/Rodale
Published: 2016-05-14T04:00:00+00:00

Doing My Time

Some of my jobs took me to the basketball courts at City on a Hill Charter Public School, which at the time was located inside the Huntington Avenue YMCA. Proud, loud, and super-funny high-school-age black girls playing ball and talking trash. It was a scene I knew well. The 100 hours flew by, and I became connected to the team and the culture and the athletes. The YMCA is also one of those iconic places in the Back Bay that you may never actually go into. I was all over that building. Hosting events, shoveling the sidewalks, teaching swim lessons in a 100-year-old pool that required everyone, I mean every ONE of us, to wear swim caps because the drainage system was beyond repair.

Now I want you to understand something. This time was hard and long for me, and it didn’t seem to have an end. My future at NU was uncertain, but for the time being the university required me to stay connected to the community through service. The b-ball and swimming were great, but most of my time was spent next to the jail by Interstate 93, where I sorted cans at a Boston Food Pantry. Remember the last time that you cleaned out your shelves for a canned food drive? You gave creamed corn and a bunch of other shit you wouldn’t ever eat. From that drop box/bin to the mouths of the people who need it in Boston is where volunteers come in to sort, package, load, and unload the right combination of good, bad, and expired food.

That was one of two spots where I volunteered in the Roxbury/South End/Southie neighborhood. The other, the well-established Pine Street Inn, was a place where I had the privilege to walk with those who needed a hand, those who were a little off their track, and those who’d lost faith in the collective “we.” The Pine Street Inn is a homeless shelter on the line between the South End and South Boston. (This might sound like the same thing to those not from the area, but it’s comedy to those who know the two places because of how different they are.) This shelter has been aiding the homeless community since 1969 and is a grounded, historic, and proud institution.

But with my hours logged, my new destinations and routes through the city mapped, and my connections made, I was able to fight for my scholarship and my clean record. I never missed a day in court, a call with Mr. Marty Kane, or a session in the pool, in the gym, on the trucks, or at the Inn. My life had become rich as I matured through the ordeal. I let go of any anger and any disconnection to family that had resulted from my parents’ divorce. I never lost the feeling of debt I owed to Malcolm or his teammates, even though I’d tried a few times (against my attorney’s wishes) to reach out. I’d become able to see the full city.

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