F is For...Frankie

Whenever people ask me what my most memorable interview to date has been, I always bring up Frankie.

I was eight months into my project of interviewing strangers in NYC, and with a modest online following, still unsure of what I was doing.

That day, after facing about twenty rejections—a high count even by usual standards—I was on the verge of packing up when suddenly I heard a voice quip, “Nope, that doesn’t look like a place to smoke my joint.” (referring to a Buddhist center next door)

I turned and saw a middle-aged black woman with bright green hair, black puffy jacket, headphones around her neck, holding a joint, looking for a place to sit.

I smiled and said, “You can sit on my stoop if you’d like, but you’ll have to do an interview with me.”

She looked at my stoop and said, “Sure. But just so you know I’ve got a lot of pain in my heart.”

It didn’t take long for Frankie’s story to pour out.

Her father was a Vietnam vet who suffered health complications from exposure to Agent Orange. Her mother died by suicide when she was a teenager.

A single mother, Frankie lived in Queens where she raised her four children, until her oldest son, Jahnir, was killed two years ago.

“He was shot. July 2020. I don’t even know who killed him and I still don’t have any answers.”

Jahnir was fatally shot in a senseless act in Brooklyn during the tense days of July 2020 as the whole city was on lockdown. The killer was never found.

“I get on the subway and start thinking how it could be this guy or it could be that guy.”

She recounted how she first learned of her son’s death through a Facebook post—stumbling upon a tribute that read “SIP RIP” alongside his photo. Once she realized what had happened, she rushed outside into the streets, sobbing wildly as her neighbors tried to offer comfort.

It felt like Frankie had never been able to share her story to that depth. It was an emotional release—a mother's grief laid bare for the first time.

“There’s no word for a parent who has lost her child, not one in the English language.” She told me. (In Sanskrit, the term is “Vilomah”, or, against the natural order)

We talked for 2.5 hours that day, of which you can see the cut-down interview here:

After posting videos of our conversation online, Frankie received an outpouring of love and support from strangers worldwide. She no longer had to be alone with her pain and grief and could finally be seen for what she had to endure. It was healing for her.

A year later, we met up again on my stoop for a catch-up interview.

This time, she came prepared, her appearance fresh with makeup, a chic outfit, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

Although still deeply affected by her loss, she was more composed and full of life —a testament to the healing power of a listening ear and supportive community.

“I now haven’t had a thought that I want to die. Since last year?

I want to live. Live, live, live, live, live.”

My chance encounter with Frankie changed the course of my content. Coming face to face with the pain and brokenness of the world, I realized that my mission was greater than just subscribers and likes, I realized that people’s hearts were at stake.

If you’ve been following along with my articles, I thank you. I hope each one helps you connect a little more with others, especially strangers. Tips and tricks aside, however, here’s a little secret:

Your greatest strength is your light. The fact that you're reading this article tells me that you have light. There is a broken world out there and people need your light, your listening ear and open heart. You don’t need to be super articulate or socially savvy, you need only be willing.

Holding space for others and hearing their stories has enlarged my heart and made me come alive in a way I’ve never felt before. I would love for you to get a taste of this.

Will you invite someone to sit on your stoop?

With curiosity,

Eric

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