PORTFOLIO FOUR:
PROSPECT HEIGHTS
It's probably the supermarket.
Met Food supermarket, 632 Vanderbilt Avenue
Talk about capturing the sense of the neighborhood, Met Food. “You're homebound, don't worry. Call us and tell us what you need and we'll get it to you.” I haven't heard of that kind of service in New York since I first came to visit my aunt who was an always unemployed actress, living where Lincoln Center is now. I just wish my aunt could be here to enjoy it. She died with a Bloody Mary in her hand. It was her Sunday morning ritual. She mixed it, sat down, boom.
If there were one thing that talks more about this community than anything else, it's probably the supermarket. Because of the people that are there and what they try to do. They do it to make money, granted, but they seem happy to be here in this neighborhood, concerned about people, concerned about delivering service to the whole neighborhood. It's not that they came in and decided, “Oh, we're getting rid of the Goya stuff here, you know? We're going upscale.” No. Still got ham hocks there. Still got pig's ears.
It's what made this neighborhood for us. I mean, we got very lucky on the house—but it's the fact that it's a comfortably mixed neighborhood. Now, I can't pull down my veil of ignorance, I'm part of the dominant society, but it just feels to me like a comfortably mixed neighborhood.
All kinds of people used to be over there.
Saint Marks Avenue and Vanderbilt Avenue
These two guys lived here. We used to have wild parties there. The first year I was here, we'd go to their house and, you know, girls and guys, all kinds of people used to be over there, and I'd get sloshed. When I used to come back, I used to be so alone.
When you're drunk the day before, I don't know how drunk you've gotten, but you don't feel like doing nothing the next day. And me, I get mad at the world. Her fault. That bitch made me do it—she gave me that first drink. Or, that son of a bitch, if it wasn't for him coming by with two bottles I would've never drank.
Then, at the end of the day, I look in the mirror and say, nobody's fault but mine. I could have said no. Finally, I said, my god, enough is enough, now I'm gonna see, because everyone tells me that these people from AA can help me. Let me see what these people can do for me. I'll give it a shot, for heaven's sakes. Then, when these people used to come by, I'd tell them, “Not today.” Maybe tomorrow, but today, I can't.