By Annie Newcomer:
Today, as I continue my North Stars Series, I am honored to share with you a talented and dear friend, Davidson Garrett, who I met in New York City two years ago.
AN: Davidson, will you share with our readers the story of how we first met?
DG: I first met Annie in 2018 at a cute little French bistro in the Carnegie Hill section of Manhattan. The Sunday brunch was arranged by the noted poet Molly Peacock because Annie was flying in for her workshop at the 92nd Street Y later that afternoon. There were two other female poets at the restaurant when Annie, beaming with joy, walked into the charming little place that looked like something in a French film. We all introduced ourselves, with Molly being the official host. When it came time for me to give my name and a little bit of bio, I think Annie might have been taken aback for a moment when I said that I was a New York City yellow taxi driver. After all, taxi drivers are not always associated with high-toned poetry at the 92nd Street Y. Rather than surprised, Annie loved that I was a cab driver and wanted to know about some of my adventures behind the wheel. It was a lovely afternoon in NYC, and we all went to the Cooper Hewitt Museum to be inspired to write Ekphrastic poetry. A New York City taxi driver and a Kansas Prairie lady in a classy French café. Only in New York.
AN: Davidson, when I returned home to Kansas City, I don’t think that I told you but I wrote about our meeting as though I was a character in Harry Potter. May I share what I wrote about meeting you and the class that day?
DG: I would love to see what you wrote.
AN: I stand before Headmistress Molly of the Order of the Peacock. She is more beautiful than sunlight. This Princess of Verse is adorned in a majestic scarf and magical glasses that allow her to see deeply into the soul. There is no fooling her. As the Selection Process begins, she must sense the longing in my heart.
“Annie Newcomer—House of the Peacock.”
Ahhhhh. I cannot hide my smiles of joy. But who will be my protectors in this daunting Kingdom called New York City? I gaze up at her again. Though silent, she hears my inner voice.
“You shall be flanked by the extraordinary Davidson, whose gifts of veracity, vivacity, enviable stage presence, and friendship know no bounds, and the gentle Victoria, the timid one but whose verse is stronger than steel.”
I look at these two remarkable Wizards and know I am, indeed, fortunate.
DG: Ah. So you see me as a magical wizard.
AN: Indeed, I do, and so grateful for our friendship. What a wonderful class we shared at NYC’s renowned 92nd Street Y, the reading place to some of the most prominent writers in the world. Even Paul McCartney of The Beetles’ fame read there when he introduced his poetry book, Blackbird.
When you write, Davidson, who do you see as your audience?
DG: I write for myself, for my own self-growth as a poet, and my poems are meant for anyone who likes to read poetry, whether they are writers themselves or just readers who love poetry.