For many people, community is where they can run to for help when they need it or, more importantly, it’s the people who know what someone needs even when no words are spoken.
Community often means extending a hand and saying “I understand,” “I see you” or “Let me help you.”
Across Connecticut, there are communities held together by individuals who have gone out of their way to lend a helping hand, often without any organization or backing force to lead their initiatives. Instead, these people use their backgrounds and compassion to invest resources — that they themselves may have needed at some point in their lives — in others who may be going through a similar experience.
The Connecticut Mirror recently connected with several people who have developed reputations in their towns or regions for providing a sense of community, which is often acknowledged by others with statements like: “I don’t know how they do it, but I’m glad they do.”
Here are some of their stories.
Ray Townes, Middletown
When most people see a traffic light, they don’t think twice about its origin.
For Ray Townes, a traffic light has real meaning — one of forgotten history, Black excellence and what’s now become a lifetime of learning and teaching.
The three-step traffic signal was invented by Garrett Morgan, a Black man, which is a fact Townes learned when he was visiting the Boston Children’s Museum with his son decades ago.
Townes, who is originally from New Jersey, recalled his last two years of high school when he went to a boarding school. It was the first time he saw Black people in positions of leadership, like a principal or a teacher. But at the time, as a teenager, representation and the importance of learning Black history in depth didn’t stand out to him.
That was until nearly a decade later, when the exhibit “sparked something inside” of him, Townes said.
“It brought something out of me that was already there,” Townes said. “Those things, now since I learned them, made me want to dig more.”
And it made him want to share that knowledge.
For well over 30 years now, Townes has accumulated a collection of Black history with everything from Ebony magazines to artifacts and posters. The collection is large enough to fill a whole school, which is what he did.
Every year in Middletown Public Schools, Townes sets up a Black History Month exhibit. It first began in the cafeteria of Lawrence Elementary School but later moved to Keigwin Annex — a school exclusively for sixth graders — where the principal at the time gave Townes the green light to showcase the collection throughout the whole school.
At Keigwin’s entrance, posters that read “Welcome to Black History Month” would dangle from the ceilings. Some showcases included African instruments or sports memorabilia. By the water fountains, there were explanations about segregation. In the hallways, large posters highlighted Black people’s achievements, including displays about the first Black female cowboys and ice skaters.
The highlight of the whole exhibit was a traffic light — which students would stop at when red, even if it meant being late to class, both former principal John Ryan and Townes said.
“Later I realized the way I picked up [on the history] was through two years at my high school, and these kids get only a month talking about African American history. I averaged it out to about 250 kids a year … so if I take my 30 years, it comes out to 7,000 or some odd kids that passed through there. If I [initiated a spark] in just one kid every year, I felt pretty good,” Townes said.
The exhibit quickly became instrumental in not only educating students and staff but the greater Middletown community.
“We were able to open the school for several nights, which allowed the community to actively get a different impression of what was really true and what was not really published. … People would go home and say, ‘Hey, did you know this?’ And they would spread the word,” Ryan said. “I think this opened the kids’ eyes. I know it did to staff. … The community became a little more aware also. A lot of history was not exposed to most people, and this was a basic ‘aha’ revolution moment, and I think it served the community well.”
If there’s one thing that’s come out of the annual exhibit, it’s that sharing backgrounds, experiences and history can teach compassion, Townes said. He hopes one day he can find a permanent home for the exhibit so it can be seen all year.
“If everybody had the same opportunity [to tell and share their stories] and the same education, [it would change the world],” Townes said. “You would see everybody. Not just me. Not just you. Not just females, not just males. [It would] show everybody and that everybody had something to contribute.”
The display is now housed at Beman Middle School.
Jewu Richardson, New Haven
Jewu Richardson spends a good deal of his time aiding people involved in the criminal justice system and helping youth avoid going down that road.
Growing up, Richardson thought a life in the criminal justice system was normal for people like him. It was all he had seen growing up in the Hill neighborhood of New Haven. They often started young, and it became an expectation in the community that has seen it cycled through generations.
In the second grade, Richardson said he got in trouble for the first time and was locked in a room in the school by himself. When he was 13, he was in juvenile detention when two “huge” staff members came into the room and restrained him, he said, describing the experience as being choked with “wrestling moves” to get him to submit and behave. He called it a regular occurrence in the ’80s for talking back or rubbing staff members the wrong way.
“When you get introduced to the system … you accept [abuse] as part of the norm. … It takes away from your character, and what you really believe about the world,” said Richardson, who has been convicted for reckless endangerment and some motor vehicle charges, among others. “It brings you down to a level where ‘I can’t accomplish certain things,’ or ‘I’m only limited to this certain box.’”
While in and out of the prison system, Richardson felt trapped, like he had a target on his back and didn’t have the resources to get away.
“Once I got involved with the criminal justice system at a young age, it just influenced my mentality on how people from the community are treated. A lot of times, how we’re involved in the system, it’s not something we’re fixing for ourselves — it’s something that’s orchestrated to happen that way,” Richardson said. “It’s the disparities or things that we didn’t have in our communities that led us to being involved in the system.”
Children would get in trouble — imitating their friends, siblings or other adults they saw. Teenagers and young adults would get into illegal activity like drug dealing because they saw others still struggling to make ends meet through traditional work. Most people weren’t taught how to invest or where to put their money, so it often went to bonds or things that would bring “immediate gratification,” Richardson said.
The problem ultimately was accessibility: to reliable services, mentorship and knowledge. It’s a problem Richardson is now trying to solve.
“I’m talking to geniuses all the time — the things they’re telling me, the ideas they have, I know the only thing that’s missing from what they’re saying or what they’re doing is resources,” Richardson said, adding he was always impressed by the thoughts, solutions and ideas that many people who were incarcerated had and spoke about. “I know if resources exist in a community, more people have a shot of achieving a lot of stuff.”
At one point during his incarceration, Richardson began taking college classes, which gave him better insight on how he could serve his community. When he struggled to find work after his release, he began volunteering. He eventually began work with a group called Frontline Soldiers to host a basketball tournament every Saturday where children could not only play but be fed.
Richardson connected with a man named Yancey “Brother Born” Horton, who would feed community members a warm breakfast every Saturday, and that became inspiration for the work he wanted to do.
In 2016, Richardson created an organization called “Building it Together,” which not only hosts its own weekly breakfasts but also provides resources to navigate the criminal justice system, including a “Resilience Fund” to help people pay for lawyers.
Darryl Allen, a New Haven resident, has attended the breakfasts “for years,” he said.
“Jewu is doing good for the community,” Allen said, adding that a recent work accident led to the amputation of all of his toes on one foot. As he waits for his strength to come back, he hopes to take after Richardson’s lead and give back to the local community in the future.
Other initiatives organized by Richardson, all of which are free, include: a yearly basketball tournament which pays homage to any lives lost; book and backpack drives for students; learning sessions on credit, equity and other financial education; youth mentorship; and even activities like body massages to develop better mental and physical health.
Richardson’s hope is that he can raise funds to establish a permanent home for these services.
“I did a lot of negative stuff in this community, so to be able to balance the scale and give back is an honor. I really cherish being able to do that. I feel like I have a debt to the community that I’ll never be able to repay, so I feel honored to be able to do stuff like this,” Richardson said. “I don’t take it lightly to be able to put these types of things together. A lot of people want to be in positions to do things like this, but may not know how to. … [So,] we really want to build a resource within the community.”
Chris and Michelle Vielleux, Newington
Chris Vielleux was in and out of what he called “dead-end” jobs for about 20 years after he left the Army. He struggled with his self-esteem and always felt like he screwed things up when new opportunities looked promising, he said.
He struggled with healing childhood trauma and later had to overcome substance abuse and wavering mental health. Developing his spirituality was the first step, but now he finally feels like he found his purpose.
In 2019, Vielleux started the Newington Vet Coffeehouse, where dozens of veterans and their family members can gather at American Legion Post 117 in Newington for a fresh cup of coffee, a warm meal and to socialize for a few hours every Wednesday.
His wife, Michelle, is his right hand who helps with set-up and warm goodies. She also offers tight hugs to anyone who needs it.
“Always, always, a warm welcome and a bunch of jokes. … Michelle and Chris have always just been so welcoming, so kind and they’ll bend over backwards for anybody. They’re there even when the coffeehouse isn’t,” said Gladys Silva-Perales, a U.S. Army veteran who’s been visiting the coffeehouse for about two years.
The coffeehouse has served around 200 veterans, and weekly they see about 20 to 30 veterans, sometimes with their families, in attendance, Vielleux said.
It’s a safe space to be around a group of people who understand things like war, post-traumatic stress disorder and Vietnam. They also share memories like when the South End of Hartford used to have the best Italian food and offer suggestions for things like the best book recommendations.
“Once the jokes start flying around, and you see the people who typically don’t react, or don’t get involved, but now they are … it’s a really good feeling,” Vielleux said. “It’s for veterans, but also their families. If you come here, and you’re a family member, your veteran might not talk to you about what’s going on and why they do this or why they do that — but there’s other veterans here who will tell you exactly what’s going on so you can find more information. There’s a lady in our community who was dropping off donations, and her dad had just passed away, and he had never talked about anything. In 45 minutes, she knew more about her dad, talking to [the veterans here], than in 30 years. They even tracked down his post in the Navy.”
Vielleux first began the coffeehouse through his church, but COVID-19 and quarantine shut down the whole operation. Around August 2020, he was having conversations with his community about the need for in-person gatherings again, especially as veteran suicide rates were increasing around the country.
The bimonthly coffeehouse soon opened every week, with extended hours from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.
“There’s veterans out there that needed this just as much as I did. In most cases, they don’t have a support system,” Vielleux said. “It’s about giving back to people in need. I needed these services at one point in time. I understand the situations.”
The coffeehouse also offers opportunities to help each other. Sometimes one of the veterans can offer carpentry work, or others can help single-parent households with watching children — little efforts that show no one is alone.
Silva-Perales recalled how the Vielleuxes helped watch her children when she needed a hand or how the couple helped another veteran family while they were in the hospital.
“The [veteran] ended up passing while his wife was in rehab, so Chris and Michelle, would go to their house and take care of their yard, clean out their fridge because they hadn’t been there in a while, and food was going bad,” Silva-Perales said. “Every little thing goes above and beyond just running the coffeehouse.”
There’s usually certain stigmas around veteran services, especially at local VAs, so the couple tries to offer a resource that’s more relaxed and without any judgment.
“Each person is different. Each person has their own issues, so we’re just going to be here to support each other,” Michelle Vielleux said. “There’s a gentleman who comes from a little distance away [Southbury], but he comes to get this interaction. It’s just something positive.”
In the future, Chris Vielleux hopes he’ll be able to create a Veteran’s Community Center, where beyond developing relationships and providing meals, veterans will also have access to better medical help and other day-to-day resources.
Joanna Iovino, Hartford
For years, residents of the Northeast neighborhood in Hartford have pleaded to public officials for a supermarket, given that the area is considered a food desert by the USDA, and the closest supermarket is at least a half mile away.
As the battle goes on, community members have had to find their own solutions through mutual aid, including efforts by neighbors who are able to go to food pantries and deliver food to nearby residents or others who offer carpooling for those who don’t have vehicles to make a stop at a grocery store.
When Joanna Iovino moved to the North End in 2012, she would often walk to a mobile food pantry and grab food for herself, and with any leftovers, she made care packages for all of her neighbors of fresh fruit and vegetables. But in 2021, Iovino felt these initiatives had to become more structured, especially as food insecurity peaked through the COVID-19 pandemic. Then she saw a handful of little bird-house-like pantries in the West End of Hartford, she said.
This was the start of Iovino’s initiative called North End Little Pantries.
“There’s all these negative impressions of the North End about it being violent, about it being dangerous, this and that, and I found from year-to-year and I have found since the day I moved to the north — a community of people who are helping each other, looking out for each other, and this was long before the pantries ever came about,” Iovino said. “If I needed some vegetables and didn’t have something for the day, people would come and drop stuff off, or I would go and drop stuff off for them. There was never a lack of people doing this mutual aid work. It just wasn’t seen. It wasn’t noticed.”
The first little food pantry was established on Garden Street, followed by others at Unity Plaza on Barbour Street, near the downtown skatepark, the North End Senior Center and on Sterling Street near Kamora’s Cultural Corner. After vandalization to the skatepark and senior center pantries, only the one near the senior center is being rebuilt.
But the demand remains as heavy as ever, both for those who need food assistance and for those who want to help.
“The pantries have really been phenomenal to the Hartford area. … These pantries have people coming from different sections of Connecticut just to volunteer their time and cooking all types of homemade meals. It’s really, really, really a phenomenal thing,” said Arlette Dunston, a longtime friend of Iovino and volunteer. “I think by people seeing that they’re not the only one that falls in need, it takes off a stigma. … If you need it, you need it. It doesn’t mean you’re in a bad situation, but we all fall short sometimes.”
NELP is unique to other pantries because they don’t only ask for non-perishable items. In the North End, fresh foods are donated often and are grabbed quickly.
“It’s amazing, because literally when I put stuff in the pantry, people come right away and have gravitated to it immediately,” Iovino said. “Usually within about five or 10 minutes of putting stuff in there, there’s four or five people lined up to get the fruits and vegetables especially. That’s something that everybody really wants. … . It’s really become, from me stocking the pantry every day, to now we see a lot of people in the community coming and dropping food off at the pantry. And a lot of people in the community coming and getting food from the pantries.”
Iovino’s work, with the help of several volunteers, has launched other mutual aid initiatives, including formula swaps and giveaways during a national shortage, community feeds and clothing drives. Soon to come is a hydroponic garden, expected to be ready to go next year, and a free farmers market where residents will receive a free produce voucher and get to interact with farmers of color to learn about farming in urban areas.
“To me the impact, when I meet people who do what they do from love, and not for brownie points or not for someone to say ‘Oh, you’re doing a wonderful job,’ … it just makes my heart smile,” Dunston said. “Just [Joanna’s] love and the true caring that she carries for people and their needs. She’s a phenomenal person.”
However, Iovino doesn’t consider herself a neighborhood superhero, even though she is considered one by another community member.
She says her work isn’t done alone.
“People who are doing the real work are the people who have been in Hartford for their whole lives, the people who are mentoring people like me,” Iovino said, highlighting Janice Flemming, Evelyn Richardson and Kamora Le’Ella Herrington. “There’s a lot of people who are doing the work and have been doing the work for decades that go unmentioned. And I think that’s an important thing to always keep in mind, that there are people who have been doing this for ages and getting no recognition for it.”