Norman Cain

INTRODUCTION

Writers Room members have always been diligent in our quest to attain excellence in our endeavors; therefore, the COVID-19 Pandemic did not deter us from continuing our vibrant sevenyear program.

During an early Saturday summer evening, I spoke with Victoria Peurifoy via phone about a recent TRIPOD meeting. Later that evening she was rushed to the hospital. She had contracted COVID and, as a result, was hospitalized for a month. Two weeks of her confinement were spent on a ventilator. Her will to beat the odds helped her to recover and, shortly after, she phoned me and we continued our TRIPOD discussion.

Because of the pandemic, the senior class members of the Paul Robeson High School were not only deprived of a class trip and prom, but were faced with the possibility of not having senior portraits as well. Thanks to the efforts of Devin Welsh, ArtistYear AmeriCorps Fellow at Robeson, and his students and TRIPOD members, Amina Mosley, Tariq Rhodes, Ciani Richardson, and Lyric Wise, photographs of the senior class were taken and featured in the series “But We Keep Going: Robeson ’21 Voices and Portraits.” The portraits and the accompanying writing vividly and heartfully chronicle who helped the seniors get through this year and the hopes they have for the future.

In spite of everything, Victoria overcame COVID and went on with her life. Devin, buoyed by support, helped the seniors create everlasting memories, and the membership of Writers Room can honestly say: We kept going. We kept going because we were endowed with the spirit of perseverance and the marvels of Zoom which allowed us to continue walking across the pathway of excellence.

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That walk didn’t take us, as in previous years, throughout Philadelphia with notebooks and Canon cameras in hand to the annual TRIPOD photography exhibition at the Free Library, YouthBuild’s worksites, the Lindy House at the Dornsife Center for our monthly workshops and annual Anthology reading, or to our home, Writers Room’s studio in MacAlister Hall at 33rd and Chestnut Streets.

However, the Writers Rooms family metaphorically walked, via Zoom and within our spirits, to the various programs that were offered. On June 6, 2020 we successfully held our sixth annual Anthology reading, with hundreds of people attending the virtual event. We kept busy over the summer with weekly writing prompts and Friday hangouts where we wrote and talked together for hours.

Throughout the year, we participated in courses with Valerie Fox, Husnaa Hashim, and Kelly McQuain and in open editorial meetings with Painted Bride Quarterly. There were First Tuesday sessions that enabled us to become involved in vibrant programs and monthly open mic sessions where we shared our work— stories, poems, and songs. Each Friday we assembled in front of our computers for TRIPOD sessions that dealt with housing, community, and gentrification. Those enlightening sessions presented by Writers Room Fellows were highlighted by graphs, charts, maps, music, statistics, videos, and photographs.

During the year, I lost two relatives to COVID. It happened so suddenly. The thing was, we were unable to go to the funerals. I wrote a letter that was read at the gravesite. My cousin, Deloris Cusack Smith, was four years older than me and a mentor. Deloris taught us the ropes down south in North Carolina. She told us about what was happening in the community, about the

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segregation. She was able to read the stars as if she worked in the planetarium. She could tell you what kind of snake crossed the road just by looking in the dirt and identify unseen birds by their chirping.

My brother, Stuart Cain, was about nine years younger than me. He was a scholar athlete. Probably the smallest quarterback in the city, he was a star at Overbrook High School. He sang with the Philadelphia All Boys Choir and was a member of the Omega Psi Phi fraternity. I remember when I was pledging in ’62, there were seven guys on my line and I was the captain. When my brother pledged in ’72, there we seven guys on his line and he was the captain.

I’ll never forget my memories, but I know my brother would say, Hey, Norman. C’mon, man. Give no quarter. It’s a military term that means keep attacking the perils in front of you, no matter how hard they get. While the perils of the pandemic have, undoubtedly, left us in a state of despair, the Writers Room community has enabled its members to continue to create and to cope with the anxieties wrought by this year.

We look forward to moving into our new dwelling, Ross Commons. We patiently await the return of staff member Kirsten Kaschock, a Pew Fellowship recipient who has taken time off to work on a novel. And we joyfully present our seventh Anthology.

—Norman Cain

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FROM QUARANZINE

A NEW RITUAL