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Reframing Hamilton By Jeanette Eby
Wandering and Belonging Together “No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see possibilities—always see them, for they are always there.” — Norman Vincent Peale
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n a cold, windy Friday evening in January, I was fortunate enough to go on a storytelling journey through the alleyways of North End Hamilton with my good friend Charlie. Charlie is one of the wisest, most caring people I know. He sees value in the simplest of things: he introduced me to some of the best pizza in the city, and he is a street hockey champion. We are both members of Beasley Neighbours for Neighbours. It is the neighbourhood association at the heart of the city, as Beasley is the neighbourhood bordered by Main, James, Barton and Wellington Streets. The association is made up of passionate community members who are committed to making Beasley the best it can be. We do not define ourselves by our struggles; rather, we build on what we have. Charlie’s passion for the neighbourhood is contagious. It continually fosters our sense of purpose, and no matter how crazy it may seem, we continue to move, having faith that Beasley is a beautiful neighbourhood, full of hope and strength, where everyone has something to contribute. Have you ever explored the alleyways of downtown Hamilton? I encourage you to venture through a few this winter. Walk slowly. Look up and around you. Observe the rooftops, the graffiti-covered garages, the backyard fences, and the apparent emptiness. You may be unmoved, and you may feel lonely. On the other hand, you may experience wonder and curiosity. You may feel a sense of peace. Imagine what might have been there 30, 40, even 50 years ago. Look at the alley with new eyes—imagine what it could be. Charlie’s childhood map of Hamilton was traced in alleyways: places of adventure, of refuge, shortcuts, places of community and friendship. Just like all people and places, every alleyway has a story. We began our evening by visiting a seemingly insignificant patch of land north of the downtown core, a small passageway that is barely an alley, located in Charlie’s old neighbourhood at John and Simcoe streets. It takes up the space of maybe four drive-
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ways, boxed in by old fences and the brick walls of neighbouring houses. Charlie told me to look at this alley in a new way and to imagine it as it was years ago. When Charlie was a kid, “The Alley” (as he affectionately refers to it) was actually a social hub for the Italian community. Kids ran around, women chatted and played cards, and men played bocce. People ate, drank, and spent time with each other day and night. It was the place to be—always alive, a place of family, friendship and belonging. As he told stories, Charlie spoke of the “unwritten codes” that he and his friends lived by growing up in the North End of Hamilton. The boys literally hung out in packs of 40 or 50; they needed to, to protect each other from bullies and other dangers. There were plenty of fights, but amidst the violence and mischief, there was an unwritten code of honour. Sometimes, you would have to take a beating, without fighting back, to preserve the honour of you and your friends. This is the notion of sacrifice: enduring hardship for the sake of something greater than yourself. If a boy fought back, he would perpetuate the violence and put his friends in greater danger; instead, he should make that courageous step and act for the whole. These were individual acts of sacrifice, but there were also the acts that depended on a cohesive community ethic: a collective understanding and value base, moving everyone to act cooperatively around a certain issue. There was a man in Charlie’s neighbourhood named Ronny who was known to be a little bit crazy. He wandered the streets, doing his thing, and he was welcome. No one gave him a hard time, they let him be, and they looked out for him— kids and adults alike. Residents did not need to rely on the police, because they were watching out for each other. Neighbours took collective ownership of these situations, not because it was asked of them but because it was their way of belonging to a community when they simply could not rely only on themselves. What are the “unwritten codes” that we live by today? Do we have a common understanding of how we live out our values in our neighbourhoods? Often, organizations and neighbourhoods get so bombarded
by management, evaluations, and external expectations that we forget the beauty of organic processes. These are the processes that emerge when we take a crazy step and invite someone in, allowing them to be themselves. One of the unwritten codes of Beasley Neighbours for Neighbours is our firm belief that everyone has something to contribute. We include everyone, regardless of their background or status. Whether you move from shelter to shelter, whether you are an aspiring artist or a business person—or a combination of the two—you have a place. Everyone can be a part of Beasley with their own gifts to bring to the table. Including everyone makes the process a bit messier, a bit more unpredictable, but it also makes the engagement process more authentic and inspiring. It frees a community from mechanical formulas of governance, and allows its members the freedom to be creative and responsible for themselves. Notions of sacrifice and cooperation, which Charlie mentioned as part of the unwritten codes, are always present when it comes to building relationships and community. We have to believe in something that is beyond the effort of any one person, something that weaves together the complexity of our human selves and creates something beautiful. We all need each other. We cannot escape this network of mutuality that keeps us coming back to one another, looking out for each other—in essence, recognizing our longing for community. When Italians immigrated to Hamilton, they made a new life together, relied on each other, and held on to their heritage while also contributing to the culture of Hamilton. Alleyways can be sites of urban decay, crime, and loneliness. But our belief in their potential cannot be thwarted by this notion alone. Alleyways can also be colourful and intriguing; they give us access to the hidden treasures and mysteries of a place, to the stories of the past, to the imagination that sees beyond the surface. Alleyways are places where people like Ronny can wander and belong on their own terms, without being judged by the world outside. It is often in the dark places that we seek out the light in each other.