Ascent Aspirations Magazine

Reviews

"To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen" by Richard Tylman

It's been years since I have dined
at the Carnegie, first, quite amazed with
what I have been offered for as little
money as I might have had. Still,
it's a place that remains
the best kept secret of our
inner city squalor as if nothing
has changed for the worse
while everything must
according to the
Western economic model. And,
as the faceless bureaucrats from afar
(like horse thieves of
the wild American West) go on
robbing the most vulnerable
of their own countrymen
using self-serving bills, enforcement,
and repetitious cutbacks
to all social programs
beginning with welfare,
it is only thanks to the gentle
women and men who volunteer
their own invaluable time
that compassion remains the exclusive
property of people, or else
one would have never come across
the people of the Carnegie kitchen.

Let me ask you a question,
dear citizen of the Western world.
In the face of the new,
systemic hatred resulting
in wide spread homelessness and
desperation of so many, how many
of you on the way to dinner would
have the will to
rub shoulders with the motley
crew of prisoners of cocaine,
deprived of hope, and
their prison guarding pushers
bearing the mark of death upon
their darkened faces?
They are the ones
keeping guard to the
entrance for as long as
I can remember.
They've been doing it better than
the Carnegie's own walkie-talking
and rather frightened security.

One ought to have a good reason to
want to pass through the gates
of hell just like Dante did.
The reason being the search for proof
that humanness remains
the sole property of people;
and so, the people
of the Carnegie kitchen
are there mixing such proof
into the proverbial pudding.
That is why they deserve
the best of God's blessing.

It would not be much of a mystery,
I guess, seen from a standpoint of
a staff member, why the Carnegie
kitchen stands out as the only relief
service in this city with
a new-age attitude towards
the feeding of its patrons, and as such,
serving protein food
for the animal lovers known
for not wanting to eat those
whom they consider to be friends.
Garden platters are offered
to our self-proclaimed herbivores
who wouldn't be caught dead
wearing funny looking headgear.
Carnegie's menu offers choice for those
deprived of choice in many other
aspects of their urban lives and
gives back purchasing power
to those who are bright though
otherwise powerless.

Like democracy, which is food
for thought, and like political
freedoms, being the sustenance
for more than the political fringe,
the Carnegie kitchen
provides more than the taste
of normalcy in an
abnormal climate of public
restraint for the governments' gain.
They claim, we are free to believe
in anything we choose but
the legislature.

The ringing sound of porcelain
travels across the floors
of the Carnegie Centre,
making me think of the old trams of
Krakow and their passengers, as colourful
as the regulars of the Carnegie kitchen.
The only difference being
the background sound of my native
tongue, soft and shimmering
as it used to be.
The sounds of the Carnegie kitchen
bring back the memory of home
no longer far away
from wherever it used to be.

The people of the Carnegie kitchen
are the ones aiming
for the status of miracle workers
in these hardening times. They come and
then move on to face the challenges of
their personal lives
thus giving space for the others
to gain similar experience
once in a lifetime.
I dream how much saner
our New World would have been
if stern civil servants, while
still in the making,
could spend a day
behind the counter of
the Carnegie kitchen
where characters are shaped
as gently as the spinach wraps.
And yet I know that it will
never happen since
the timeless defence of
what makes humanity special
depends on those who offer to give
of their own free will.
Such are the people of the Carnegie kitchen,
volunteering invaluable time,
time and again, serving
an exquisite proof
that humanness remains
the sole property of people.

Richard Tylman

Richard Tylman's Home Page

Contact Richard Tylman

A poetry review by David Fraser

In "To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen" Richard Tylman writes about places of the heart, of spirit, compassion and empathy. The Carnegie Building on the East Side of Vancouver houses its kitchen, the only relief service in the city of its kind, a refuge from a world harsher and less benevolent than most Canadians have ever experienced. Once a library built on Andrew Carnegie's donation, then a museum, the Carnegie kitchen is now a place of and for the people.

It is the people who amaze the poet, not the edifice or its history. It is their gentle nature, their compassion that "remains the exclusive property of people". His use of "property" not as a possession is juxtaposed to the sense of property that so drives the engines of progress in the Western world, a model condemned by Richard Tylman, and rightly so, for being run by bureaucrats who lawfully take away from the vulnerable through legislative measures.

The poem begins with "It's been years since I have dined/at the Carnegie…" Dined, not merely "eaten" as if the Carnegie is one of those restaurants that traditionally get reviewed with all the stars. He goes on to use the word "offered" and not "given or served." "Offered" has a religious ring to it, something given freely like an act of kindness. This kindness (although not his word) is what is at the heart of Carnegie Kitchen in its people who give their "invaluable time" day after day.

The poem is part tribute to these volunteers called "miracle workers" and part rant against the systemic forces that appear to wage an uncaring neo-conservative war against the impoverished and the homeless. Richard Tylman asks the reader if he or she would "rub shoulders with the motley crew of prisoners of cocaine" on the way in and knows the answer why so few would find a reason to meet these gentle servers of an evening meal. We see this every day; the more fortunate turning a blind eye, avoiding all the unpleasant images of humanity until "the darkened faces" of the needy become invisible. He invites us in, and tells us why we should pay attention. "The reason being the search for proof/that humanness remains the sole property of the people". He goes on to note that here in the kitchen for an affordable price, patrons have choices; vegetarians, vegans have "garden platters"; they have choice, and they have purchasing power that strips away their powerlessness. The patrons get "more than a taste of normalcy in an/abnormal climate" of government cut-backs.

The Carnegie Centre with the sound of porcelain brings on memories of Krakow, old trams, colourful passengers, and needy individuals from another era of poverty, oppression and injustice. The reference to Poland and the poet's roots is genuine, but it also brings to the fore the "hardening times" of New World politics and harkens back to a much darker era to which we must never ever return.

In the final stanza the poet comes back to the people who have their own personal challenges and focuses on how the experience of helping others - as they too pass through this place - has shaped their characters. He says in the memorable line that their "characters are shaped/as gently as the spinach wraps." He wishes that civil servants and, for that matter, all of the citizens of the Western world who are not so needy could serve behind the counter for a day. But he knows that you can't legislate people to do this, and knows it wouldn't work. He states what we all should realize that "what makes humanity special/depends on those who offer to give/of their own free will."

"To the People of the Carnegie Kitchen" is a wonderfully poignant tribute to these gentle servers of humankind who "deserve the best of God's blessing," and also a subtle call to action for many of us to resist the trend toward a new right-wing "systemic hatred" from those with power.

David Fraser lives in Nanoose Bay, on Vancouver Island. He is the founder and editor of Ascent Aspirations Magazine, www.ascentaspirations.ca, since 1997. His poetry and short fiction have appeared in 40 journals including Three Candles, Regina Weese, Ardent, and Ygdrasil. He has published a collection of his poetry, Going to the Well (2004), a collection of short fiction, The Dark Side of the Billboard (2006)and edited and published Ascent Aspirations Magazine Anthology One(Dec. 2005) and Anthology Two Windfire (Summer 2006).

A A Publishing

David Fraser has a BA in English from University of Toronto, and an MEd in adult education from OISE. In Ontario he taught English, Creative Writing Writer's Craft among other subjects at the secondary school level for 30 years. He was the ski school director for High Park Snow School for 8 years. Currently he is a full time writer who also teaches skiing at Mt Washington in the winter.

Email: name

Return to Table of Contents