weeks eleven + twelve: it all winds down.

May 8

“Wait are you an early bird at all? Because I wanna try Lafayette Bakery's viral croissant so bad.” My friend Ali, who had graduated from UNC recently, was now working for Food + Wine in New York City. I just couldn’t miss a chance to see her while I was there. “Sure! I’m down!” I replied. Apparently, this croissant was a big deal, and I wasn’t one to take things lightly. I was climbing up the steps of the subway station at Flushing Avenue in Brooklyn at 7:45 am, determined to meet Ali in line on time. Surely enough, we all made it to NoHo, and I got to meet Ali’s sister, Chessie, in the winding line outside Lafayette. Almost an hour after I had left Trey and Jack’s apartment that morning, Ali, Chessie, and I were seated and comfortable at Washington Square Park, ready to feast on some marvelous breakfast treats dipped in chocolate and strawberry goodness. Washington Square Park was a hub where people could simply mind their business. That included anything from taking a bath in the fountain to marriage proposals to eating breakfast on a bench. The three of us nibbled away, savoring each bite until the pigeons started gathering and Ali couldn’t help but offer them a disturbing amount of croissants to feast on.

After I left the sisters, I wandered to The Strand on 12th and Broadway and remembered how Joanne from Faulkner House Books in New Orleans had mentioned that she found its size a bit overwhelming. Apparently, The Strand was fully intent on leaning into the grandness of their size; I noticed a large yellow banner strung up on the side of the store as I walked in, reading “Come in and Get #LostInTheStacks.” They weren’t kidding. There were huge sections for every genre, marked with well-designed graphics in iconic red and white colors that gave the store a sense of continuity. Sorry, I know I sometimes unexpectedly start talking about design—it’s just the kind of stuff I tend to notice and appreciate first. I took my time walking through Fiction, Rare Art, History, and Comics before noticing a photography section and feeling the urge to grab some books so I could invest in learning more about film photography. I decided against it, having spent too much on books these past several weeks. I did leave there with a small red tote bag, perhaps as a reminder to come back one day, properly explore the space, and fill it with books.

That afternoon, I hopped on a train that pulled out of Moynihan Train Hall and arrived in Stamford within an hour. Meghan was there to pick me up, and we went home to enjoy dinner with her family and watch some trashy reality TV like we loved to and had done many times before. Her mother had made a delicious, vegetarian shepherd’s pie that I couldn’t resist and we just passed some stories around the dinner table in that kitchen I mentioned really liking. I realized I hadn’t been around parents in a really long time—I hadn’t spent too much time with my uncle and aunt in New Jersey—and it felt nice to be in that kind of environment again because I missed home.

The next day was one filled with errands; I had to pick up my uncle, who just happened to fly into Newark for work very early in the morning. I took him to Cracker Barrel and then dropped him off at his Airbnb in Hartford before driving back to Stamford to just rest for the day. Again, I was noticing a severe drop in my energy, but maybe that just came from the two days I had spent in the city. The next day was Tuesday, and it was time for an interview. After having gone over a week without an interview, I was excited to be visiting a new store and getting to chat with someone. What I wasn’t excited about was lugging my tennis bag of tripods, backpack with stand lights, and my camera bag around on trains and subways. I sent some emails and did some admin work while waiting at Stamford Station. The train took me to Moynihan Train Hall again, and I took the familiar hallways up to the outside world. I stopped in the Garment District for a quick coffee, relishing the ability to sit down, already tired of carrying my equipment. I had some time before the interview, so I decided to fit in a quick trip to one of my favorite places in the city: The New York Public Library. Folks were sitting on the steps outside of the building with massive columns and arches and iconic stone lions. A line had formed at the entrance made up of tourists with full itineraries hoping to get an early start to their day. Once the library opened, I confidently walked up the staircase on the right side, towards the reading room where they let students and researchers work. What I loved about the NYPL was that it almost felt like an ancient temple with its Greek architecture and museum-like grandeur. I felt sheltered from the noise of the outside world when I was among the brass lamps and oak tables of the Rose Main Reading Room. I didn’t stick around for too long, looking up to the flowery molding lining the cloudy sky painted on the ceiling on my way out, wondering when I would be back there.

I went down to the nearest subway platform, tapping my phone against the pad on the turnstile. It amazed me that at some point between then and the last time I had been in New York, the stations began accepting Apple Pay in lieu of the yellow MetroCard I always saved and kept in my wallet. It made the payment process extremely simple and clear (cough cough San Francisco cough cough). The NYPL Stephen Schwarzman Building was in Midtown, Manhattan. From there, I journeyed to Prospect Lefferts Gardens, Brooklyn, to meet with Greenlight Bookstores at their Flatbush location.

Greenlight Bookstore

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

In the heart of Brooklyn, within arm’s reach of many in the community, you’ll find Greenlight Bookstore. Here, I had the chance to speak with Morgan Haywood-Joy, the manager of their location on Flatbush Ave. Whereas Greenlight’s Fulton location gets more tourists, Flatbush tends to see more local regulars. The store offers a curation of new books, but what sets them apart is their dedication to creating spaces in the store that highlight voices that are representative of the community around them.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“Interesting. My main goal was to make sure that the space represented the folks who live here. We created a black voices table, which is around 365 days, all year round, to show that black people exist outside of the month of February.”

“I grew up on the other side of Brooklyn,” Morgan said, “and there were no bookstores. We had libraries, obviously. But I never thought a bookstore was… a place for me. It didn't feel like it was representative of me. And it's something about coming into a store, you see someone who looks like you, and you find a certain affinity.” Morgan recalled how at Greenlight, they’ve done sidewalk sales and how merely her presence seemingly attracted folks to see what was going on. “The amount of people who come up to me being like, ‘oh, I saw this Black woman sitting across the street… let me walk over,’” and that itself, in that conversation, just shows how important it is to see yourself.” Similarly, Morgan finds it important to have a diverse selection of books at the store—starting with kids’ books. Greenlight wants community members to see their Black voices, AAPI, Latinx, and LGBTQ tables year-round so they feel they’re in an inclusive, safe space. I was wondering how the pandemic influenced the community to act.

“I guess the big thing about being in New York is there’s a lot of social activism happening,” Morgan explained, “where people, with all the protests—especially with the Black Lives Matter protests—really wanted to get back to the grassroots of things. People want to feel like they're part of something, right? So, the idea of being able to ‘put my money where my mouth is’ really came through strong.”

With the arrival of the pandemic, Greenlight had to trade out in-person community outreach with virtual options, but started again with a “Where’s Waldo Find” toward the end of the summer, encouraging children to visit several stores in the community to find Waldo and increasing store traffic for many businesses at the same time.

Morgan recommended…

Something that stuck with me was how Morgan described retail during the pandemic as a “giant social experiment.” She saw people coming into the store looking for escape and viewed each interaction with a customer as an opportunity to help them find that escape. “‘Everybody's going through a lot. This is what you want to read? Let's get it for you.” Like, nothing, nothing is that deep. It’s just, like, ‘there's so much stuff happening in life. Let me be that escape for you right now.’”

Before I left Morgan, she left me with a parting message for folks who would be watching my documentary, in regard to buying from independent businesses. “Do the work,” Morgan said. “If you want your local bookstores to thrive… we also need your help. And if it's not you, if that's not your ministry, then tell your friends. Post it on Facebook. Share it. There's something for everybody. And then, if you don't see something in your local bookstore, talk to people about it. Being a manager here, the best thing I have is the input from the community. I'm here to serve you. So, whatever I can do in that moment, let's have a conversation.”

Judging by how it was the middle of the day, and I had ample time left before I took my last train ride out of the city, I decided to take a walk around Prospect Park for a bit. Anabelle and Rainey were wrapping up a spa appointment and would meet up with me before I departed. I found a bar called The Charleston just down the road from where they were in Williamsburg, assuming it would be pretty much empty at 4:30 in the afternoon. I was right. I hunkered down at the bar counter and had a refreshing cider as I continued reading 1984. Yeah, I’m that guy who you’ll find reading at a bar. I don’t do it often, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. They often have a pleasant atmosphere before the madness of the evening rush. Feel free to read however you want and wherever you want, folks.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” someone asked the bartender, a bit desperately. I had noticed him going back and forth with her for a bit, trying to charge his dead phone, but his charger seemed to be a bit worn, the “chargey” bit hanging from the cord by a few strands of thin, metal wire.

“If that’s giving you trouble, you can borrow mine.” I handed him a cord from my bag. We both exchanged smiles and nods and I continued reading until Anabelle popped in with Rainey arriving shortly after. We ate some of the dollar-per-slice pizza the bar had available at the window before grabbing some tea and pastries at Qahwah House, dreaming about the future as the three of us so regularly did. The sun and skies blessed us with a warm orange glow that evening as the Amtrak took me back to Connecticut, and I thought of how the two of them really brought the trip full circle for me. I couldn’t believe it had been 2.5 months since I had seen them in Boone at the beginning of the trip.

*In a metro station, in Washington, D.C.*

The next day I took it easy at Meghan’s place, watching TV and reading, making sure I was set for the last few days with my accommodations and appointments in WASHINGTON, D.C., and RICHMOND, VIRGINIA. Thursday morning, I had a bittersweet parting from Meghan and her family—I could feel in my soul I was getting closer and closer to home, but I also didn’t want my time with a friend I don’t see nearly often enough to conclude. Alas, all good things must come to an end. I drove all morning until I parked in the pleasant and picturesque Federal Hill area outside of downtown Baltimore. Not only did I grab a quick lunch at a Mexican restaurant in the Cross Street Market—remember, Mexican food is my comfort food—but I stopped at a bookstore that I had heard about: The Book Escape. The store had a colorful wooden bench outside near the entrance, along with small cubbies with free books. They had a selection of new books, but I was sure I could also find a used copy among the thousands of books tucked somewhere in the small maze. Much like many stores, I had stepped into during this trip, this one struck me as a perfect example of a neighborhood store with an affordable, yet vast selection. The ideal place for “gem hunting.”

I wasn’t far from D.C. at this point. I was driving to my friend Praveena and her roommate Brandon’s place in ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA. Praveena was one of those friends I had made during my freshman year through class, but then we only became closer and closer, until she became my go-to on all matters, whether life or academic. She was one of my closest, most thoughtful, hardest-working friends. I had met Brandon maybe once before, but both he and Praveena were working for The Washington Post at the time, and were generously offering me a large couch to sleep on for a few nights. That evening, they explained the metro system in D.C.—another example of a splendidly simple method for public transportation (cough cough San Francisco cough cough). We caught up over some delicious pizza at RedRocks Neapolitan Bistro in Old Town and they got to show me around a bit before we called it a night.

The next morning, I found myself on an escalator, popping up from the metro into a huge underground station with a magnificent, yet simple, stone, waffled ceiling, right around the National Archives Museum. I connected onto a different line and walked a short distance with all of my equipment in tow. An iced caramel latte and a small chocolate Bundt cake kept me company in the downstairs cafe of Politics and Prose Bookstore’s Connecticut Ave. location, before my interview with Bradley Graham.

Politics and Prose Bookstore

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

Brad Graham, co-owner of Politics & Prose Bookstore in Washington, D.C, sat down to speak with me as one of my final interviewees before reaching home. I couldn’t help but think that the name of the bookstore was quite perfect for being located in our nation’s capital. Established by two women in 1984, Politics and Prose entered the indie bookstore scene during a time when such stores were more popular and thrived, at least before the technological developments and economic hardships of the 90s and 2000s.

Coming into ownership of the store in 2011, Brad and his wife, Lissa Muscatine, entered a bit of an unfamiliar world. They were new to the independent books business, having spent years as journalists. I’d say they’ve done more than alright in the past decade. The past few years have seen two new locations of the store open—The Wharf in southwest D.C., and Union Market in northeast D.C.

“The Wharf is frequented by a lot of tourists,” Brad explained, “and Union Market tends to have a somewhat younger customer base, but the branches—like the main store—all try we have a wide range of offerings.” All locations are general-interest stores and reach many people today with their selection of new books, event programming, classes, trips, and activities for people of all ages.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“There are certain common denominators that we all share. Books, certainly, but we’re all about more than books. We’re also very much about community. We offer classes. We have our self-publishing service. There's a coffee house in our flagship store. We provide a lot of things and exist for… bringing people and authors together for promoting not just reading, but the discussion of ideas and literature..”

Washington, D.C., happens to be a dynamic city where changes and important decisions occur constantly. The store, of course, reflect’s the city’s personality.

“Having been a journalist for thirty years,” Brad explained, “I thought of my time then as [a] form of public service. I think we're very fortunate to have a customer base that's very interested in reading, but also up on many issues of the day.” Brad believes that the store might carry more nonfiction than your average bookstore because of the kinds of events they popularly offer in a city like D.C. “Some of our other programming, too—in our classes and even in some of the panel discussions—that we occasionally hold, that are not linked to a specific book release, are a reflection of the interest in the current events that reflects where we are.”

From mid-March to July 2020, Politics and Prose closed their doors to in-person foot traffic. Like many stores, they turned to online sales and curbside pick-up, finding much success with those alternative avenues of business. In fact, a steady stream of online sales continued even after their doors opened. A strange occurrence when it would be cheaper to order online from Amazon right? According to Brad, people soon enough realized what was at stake for small businesses.

“I heard from people that they purposefully did this because they see us as a vital gathering spot in their communities—a place where they can come and enjoy the browsing experience, which is a very different kind of shopping experience than the online one,” Brad said.

Brad recommended…

*Thank You for Your Servitude: Donald Trump’s Washington and the Price of Submission,* by Mark Leibovich

“Where they can come and hear authors, you know, which they can't do, to the same extent, online. Where they can get personalized attention from an actual, physical bookseller. You know, so, all those advantages they appreciated and, and were behind their continued support during the pandemic.”"

After concluding my interview with Brad, I retraced my steps to get back to Praveena’s for a second to drop off my equipment before I sprinted out the door again to head back into D.C. My friend Clark, whose brother Jennings and I had stayed with in Oxford, had recently moved to the city. I grabbed a coffee with him, and he showed me around his new place, but we’d be meeting up again the next day for dinner and evening plans. Saturday rolled around, and I had a bit of a celebratory day marking the end of the long journey. I started the day off with brunch at Ambar with Brandon, Praveena, and her friend, Micayla. After that, I met up with my friend Trevor, who I had met in college and who had moved up to D.C. for work after graduation. We just laid on the lawn at Logan Circle very comfortably on that warm day, just catching up over lost time. That had been a bit of a theme in these past two weeks. I couldn’t help but run into people I hadn’t seen in forever. The rest of the evening, I was back with Clark, and he showed me around the area and we chatted about work and just life. There was much to talk about in that regard for us whenever we met up, and I always left Clark having had a great time, feeling better about anything that was bothering me. At this point, I was excited to be home again very soon, but a bit overwhelmed with the task that lay ahead of me—actually putting together an entire documentary and so many other little bits and pieces that I wanted to accompany it. I’ll leave those thoughts for when I’m actually home.

Sunday rolled around again, and I knew in a few hours, I’d be done with the trip, and back in RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA. The time for my final interview of the trip had been pushed up a little, so I cooked up an idea to get home early to surprise my mumma, whom I hadn’t seen in way too long. My parents had asked me to share my location with them for the duration of the trip, and I had done so to offer them some piece of mind. I couldn’t imagine the stress on their part, seeing me drive such great a distance after only having had my license for a year. My mom was extremely intuitive, always seeming to know when I was up to something—but I was my mother’s son. I called her that morning, telling her I would be arriving home in the late evening, while the family was away at my cousin’s graduation party, and that I would be very tired. In fact, I’d be arriving several hours early, at the graduation party, and my mumma would likely not be checking my location until later in the day. Just to be safe, I subtly stopped sharing my location with my parents that morning, and I would try to convincingly chalk it up to a technological error if the need arose.

*Outside Fountain Bookstore, in Richmond, Virginia*

The drive to Richmond would be a short one, and the one after that short as well. After driving so much this summer, the drive between D.C. and Raleigh didn’t appear that long anymore. I told Praveena that I’d be back again soon when I hugged her goodbye, thanking her for the wonderful time there, and wishing her the best with all of the incredible work she’d be doing.

I arrived in Richmond around noon. All highways seemingly pass through Richmond when you’re traveling between the north and south. My family would drive through Richmond every time we’d be on our way to see my aunt and uncle in New Jersey, but I had never stopped to see what the city had to offer. I parked Lola on the side of a cobblestone street. The cloudy sky released a few drops at a time, warning me to hurry up and get inside Fountain Bookstore before it started to come down.

Fountain Bookstore

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

On the cobblestone streets of historic Richmond, you’ll find the charming Fountain Bookstore, where I had the unique pleasure of chatting with the hilarious owner Kelly Justice for my final interview for the project. An event-centric bookstore, Fountain does everything from book clubs to dinners to author signings on top of selling primarily new titles in their carefully-curated general-interest store, in a community that’s seen much change.

“And it's still changing,” Kelly said. “It's changed a lot since the pandemic. What we carry has changed and the neighborhood's changed. Who’s here has changed—all these office buildings are still empty, you know? Everyone's still working from home, but the residential rate is really much higher and it’s a much younger population. It's an interesting time.”

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“Silly. I hope we provide a light, a joy, a little oasis in peoples’ days. And so, we're not super angsty. There's plenty of angsty, angry bookstores out there if that's your jam. We tried that on and it didn't fit and we're just better with… we’re the goofballs.”

According to Kelly, Fountain Bookstore trains its staff to serve as ambassadors of the city of Richmond, as the store manages to see quite a lot of tourists and they are smack in the center of it all.

“Richmond is a very young town,” Kelly explained. “And it's a southern town, and I like to think that the best of the South is when there's room for everybody to be themselves. That's what being a good, Southern town means to me. What I love about Richmond is it's very relaxed… but it also has a tremendous energy because of all the universities located here and all the movement, in and out, of a younger population. And I really love that about it, that it's constantly changing and evolves to, to meet the new people that come here. And a lot of them say there's this sort of slingshot thing that Richmond has for people. I came here ‘temporarily’ in 1993, so…” As you can imagine, Richmond plays host to a very intersectional, diverse community, and its Fountain’s mission is to be there for everyone, regardless of their background, interests, and comfort with reading.

“That's more important to me, I think than anything else… that people feel like this is a comfortable, happy space and a safe place where they can express themselves. It’s not my deal, it’s our deal. I feel really uncomfortable with the whole term of ‘ownership’ when it comes to a bookstore like Fountain that’s been around for so long. This is a legacy store, at this point, so my role is custodial, purely.”

Kelly recommended…

*This Is Not A Book About Benedict Cumberbatch: The Joy of Loving Something—Anything—Like Your Life Depends On It,* by Tabitha Carvan

Fountain prides itself on its tight-knit book clubs, which provide a sense of community to so many, especially because of how they were able to serve as a lifeline to folks who experienced loneliness during the pandemic through virtual meet-ups. “Some people had to move during the pandemic,” Kelly said. “Some people had kids during the pandemic, and then everything changed. So, we gave them the choice to start meeting back in person again, and they said, ‘no.’” I found this to be particularly fascinating because all I ever heard from folks my age was how they couldn’t wait to return to in-person activities again. But Fountain Bookstore was reaching people as far away as the United Kingdom and Austria, incorporating them into their family as if they were right next door.

According to Kelly, another result of the pandemic was the deprioritization of book sales for a period by Amazon. Folks who had relied on the online retailer for their books had to find other options, and so I asked Kelly what value people found in Fountain in particular. “Maybe it’s that I remembered, personally, as a human, remembered when their mom passed,” Kelly said. “And, and that's an experience, that's something that we share, that's a loss that we share… and those are times that we bonded, and therefore it becomes about a personal relationship with one other person. Sometimes they value just coming in here… and they realize that that costs something, you know. Sometimes people value one experience they had. They came to one author event; it changed their life.”

Kelly left me with a thought that I like to think embodies everything independent bookstores can be for people everywhere. “I like to think that also this bookstore can be a home for people that don't have a home bookstore in their town, you know? So, we can be that for them, online. I like to think that's something we weirdly figured out. I'm sure a lot of other bookstores did, too, but that was something that surprised me.”

I thought about how funny Kelly had been on the familiar highway leading home, grateful that my final interview had gone well. My final interview. I couldn’t really believe that it was over. What am I going to do when I get home? I had told myself that a few weeks of rest were absolutely required, and I was hoping that was all I’d need before I could dive into the post-production part of the project. Then and there, though, I was focused on getting home safely in the rain, my tummy digesting a heaping plate of Mexican food I got around the corner from Fountain Bookstore. Around 5 pm, I arrived at my cousin Tia’s graduation party in the park where I managed to find my sister by tracking her phone’s location. I surprised her, after I changed into something red in the car, to celebrate Tia’s choice to attend NC State University in the fall.

Of course, I had managed to arrive at the party before mumma had, so I was stuck in a constant cycle of lightly socializing with all of the aunties and uncles present, checking her location on my phone, and wondering if I should hide in a bush or something. When she finally arrived in the parking lot, I slowly crept up behind her and sort of ran towards her at what I’m sure was a startling speed. She sort of yelped at first, and then started wailing and laughing when she realized it was me. We hugged for a while in that parking lot.

I’m finally home. And boy, did I have a lot of stories to share.

This week’s food for thought

“I mean, like so many of us, I've seen so many small businesses—both bookstores and other types of businesses, restaurants, etc. —had to close, you know, not just during the pandemic, but over the past 10 years. Um… And often there'll be this kind of outcry, like, “oh my gosh, how could they close? That was such a fantastic place.” And it's usually from people who hadn't been there in several years or had gone there once in five years. And you know, if you… if you really treasure these places, and I think we all treasure these great community gems, like bookstores and restaurants and these local places... If you really treasure them, you have to go out and support them. You have to patronize them or else they will disappear. Like they… they don't stay around just on their, on their own, just, on their own goodwill. Goodwill is not enough to sustain them. You need to go in and, and… patronize them. And so, that goes not just for bookstores, but I think for small businesses in general. It's a really difficult time to run a small business in America right now. I think that, you know, the large, there's incredibly—companies like Amazon and Walmart—they're incredibly large companies that have vast resources. You know, billions and trillions of dollars at their disposal... You know, we only, often, we, we see the convenience. We see the low price. We don't think about the fact that those dollars are then taken away from, you know, businesses in our own community which pay taxes and pay teenagers to work there and make donations to schools and nonprofit organizations and things like that. So, support, not just your local bookstore, but all of the small businesses in your community. That will, that… above else, will do the most to help them survive.”