Shortly after first visiting the Nuyorican Poets Café as a teenager in 1999, I’ll never forget the first time I saw him sitting nonchalantly in his stool at the corner of the bar. “Señor Algarín…,” I began, grasping for something significant to say—“Hey, Papi,” he responded with his big smile and familiar embrace, as though we’d known each other forever.
Years later, when I was working on an anthology with Miguel, we’d meet up every couple of weeks to talk about the project. We’d sit at his favorite neighborhood spot in the LES and he’d just tell stories for hours. We met up like that, consistently, for nearly two years. The anthology never came to be, but I’ve cherished that time I got to spend witnessing his charisma and wisdom. We’d laugh, cry, talk shit, argue, and laugh some more.
I was (and am) awed by the fullness of the life and legacy of Miguel Algarín. He built a sacred space that allowed me to not just find my voice but find my way toward the person I needed to become. That brick building, which was once his living room, has given so many of us a home for the first time. The Nuyorican will always be home. Thank you for building a home for us, Miguel. Rest, Miguel.
#RIPMiguelAlgarin
#NuyoricanLegend
