Moving to Hudson: How to Show Up with Care

What newcomers need to know about staying human in a changing city.

When Frannie was forced out of Hudson, our whole street felt it. That isn't saying much numbers-wise. I live on a quiet, dead-end road with just 18 houses. Somehow, most are still occupied by longtime Hudson folks, the people who have been here for years, raising kids, growing up here themselves, like me.

Frannie didn’t grow up in Hudson, but she poured herself into the community. She spent decades as a special education teacher – working with kids the world sometimes forgets. She had children of her own too. Kids who have since grown up and started lives of their own someplace else. She has golden retrievers that she dotes on like they're her actual children.

We met Frannie when we moved back to Hudson in 2018. I bought our house from my high school history teacher. He and his wife were leaving Hudson, and they sold it to us directly – no realtor. Frannie gave us a warm welcome, bringing over treats for our kids and for our dogs. For the next six years, we'd see her almost daily, on strolls with her dogs or doling out popsicles to our kids from our neighbor Bernie's porch. In the warm months, the two of them often would sit on the porch together, one raised in Long Island, one raised in Jamaica, gossiping and laughing for the whole neighborhood to hear.

Then, a few months ago, Frannie's landlord died unexpectedly. He had no will. The house ended up in probate, and she immediately received an eviction notice.

Frannie tried to find housing nearby, but nothing was even close to affordable for her. She had one of the good landlords who kept the rent just enough to cover the expenses of keeping the property. She realized quickly that she couldn't stay in Hudson. She found a place in Greene County and quickly left.

And so, Frannie's home went to auction. When it sold, our whole neighborhood’s suspicions were confirmed. The couple who purchased it came to their new spot three weekends in a row, never staying beyond Sunday evening. They were weekenders. This would be their second home.

I met the couple myself when I was on a walk with my kids. I heard their story. They live in Brooklyn. They had come up to Hudson for a visit, and they loved it. They'd be coming up on weekends. I tried to keep my face neutral, to not let on about the fury rising in my chest. And then they asked me a question that threw me for a loop. Can you tell us about who lived here before us? Are they okay?

And so I told them about Frannie in detail — about how she could barely restrain Princess Moonshine, her loping, overweight golden retriever, when they were on walks. About how she yelled out, there's my little Rosh Hashanah baby, as I waddled down the road, nine months pregnant with a baby due on the Jewish holiday. About how she bought all her dog treats in bulk so she could share them with our dogs Milo and Archie.

Then I told them about how she was evicted, how she couldn’t find a new place here. I was talking fast, tears in my eyes, my voice now full of the anger and sadness I was feeling. I expected my new weekend neighbors to bow out awkwardly, maybe even get defensive. But they surprised me again when they asked, What can we do about this?

I haven't stopped thinking about that question, so I thought I’d sort out some answers on a page. If you're moving to a place like Hudson, a place already bruised by displacement, where the longtime locals are fighting to still belong, here's how you can enter with accountability, humility, and care. Some of these suggestions are small, some of these suggestions are massive. I do believe all of them are impactful.

Learn the history. You can start with the Hudson Area Library’s History Room. Read about the Stockbridge-Munsee Community, Dutch settlers, whaling, Shantytown, Urban Renewal, Bliss Towers, the Hudson City School District, gentrification. Talk to your neighbors about their experiences, about who lived in your house before you and why they left. Understand the depth of resilience that shaped this place. And get to know the people who built and sustained Hudson long before it became “desirable”.

Support what’s already happening. I sometimes see new folks start something of their own right out the gate, duplicating something our community is already working on. Don’t move here and immediately start a community garden – ask how you can help the one that exists at Kite’s Nest. Volunteer. Show up without a plan to fix or change. Build relationships rooted in respect, not reinvention.

Send your kids to public school. I came through the Hudson City School District and my kids are now too. It’s not perfect – like most public schools, it faces real challenges – but it’s also one of the most diverse, community-rooted places my children could grow up in. My daughter is learning Spanish words from friends, absorbing stories about Ramadan and Diwali, and being cared for by devoted teachers who are teaching her empathy along with academics. Public school here means your kids learning alongside your neighbors’ kids – sharing snacks, songs, and sidewalk chalk – and that kind of education can’t be bought.

Buy from local vendors, especially vendors of color. Go to the farmer’s market on the weekends. But also seek out corner stores, old barbershops, small businesses. Keep wealth in the hands of long-time residents and marginalized entrepreneurs. And also preserve the economic viability of Hudson beyond just the tourist economy — tourism is important, but so are the industries that serve the people who live here all week.

Vote like a neighbor. As soon as you arrive, register to vote here. Support housing justice, tenant protections, and infrastructure for everyone. Ensure that the policies our local government puts into place reflect the needs of all residents, not just those who own property here. Help resist the displacement of working-class people in Hudson.

Housing march in Hudson, 2020.

Rent below market rate. If you’re putting units on the market, rent them out below market rate. Offer your guest room, an ADU, or an in-law apartment to someone who needs housing stability. Help combat more of your neighbors being forced out. Interrupt housing scarcity with safe, dignified, affordable housing opportunities.

Become a recurring donor to local orgs. Set up a monthly donation to organizations working hard to support all pockets of the community. In doing so, you’re giving local organizers and youth programs the financial consistency necessary for them to build long-term impact. Think Columbia County Sanctuary Movement, Hudson Area Library, Friends of Hudson Youth, Kite’s Nest, Greater Hudson Promise Neighborhood, Perfect Ten, Hudson-Catskill Housing Coalition, Operation Unite, Beautiful Racket, The Family Resource Center, The Spark of Hudson, and so many more. These are the kinds of places that don’t just make Hudson livable for people – they make it worth living in.

Pay reparations. I’m still learning what this means in practice. I thought they were national or symbolic. But I’ve come to understand that they can (and should) be local and personal. If you’ve built wealth through inheritance, whiteness, or a home that gained value while others were pushed out, ask yourself how your gain may be tied to someone else’s loss. Reparations might look like donating to Black and Brown-led organizations. They might look like giving a significant sum to a long-time neighbor whose rent just doubled. They might look like pooling money with others on your block to create a fund to support renters at risk of eviction. Repair.

Sell your home below market rate to a local family when you leave. Don’t try to squeeze every last dollar out of your house. Consider skipping the bidding war and selling your home at a reduced rate – or even at cost – to someone who wants to live here full-time. A teacher at M.C. Smith. A nurse at CMH. A family on your block that’s never had the opportunity to buy. Help plant roots for someone else.

Give co-ownership or equity to your tenant. If you own a rental property, consider sharing equity with the people who live there. Tenants often pay the mortgage, maintain the space, and build community around the home. Co-ownership acknowledges that labor and presence. I’ve learned a lot about this over the last two years at The Spark of Hudson, where we’re structuring steward ownership models for residential and commercial renters. In that model, 50% of the appreciation in the property goes to the residents as a profits interest. It’s a commitment to sharing wealth with the people who make a place livable.

Buy a house and donate it to the land trust. This is a big one, I know. Land trusts keep housing permanently affordable by taking it off the speculative market. That way homes stay in the hands of people who live and work here. Trillium, a new land trust in Columbia County, is building towards that kind of future. If you have the means, donating a house or property to a land trust is one of the most lasting ways to keep housing accessible to the people who live and work here.

I know that most folks can’t do all of these, but doing any number of them can help keep people with deep roots in Hudson rooted here. It can help bring back families who were forced out. It can make the neighborhood feel like a neighborhood and not only a tourist destination.

If you need another reason: growing a stable, year-round population helps everyone. More residents on the tax roll can ease the burden on individual property owners; Hudson was almost 12,000 people at its largest, and now it’s less than half that. Local businesses – from cafes to childcare centers – thrive when there are full-time neighbors to serve (and to hire!). A community is so much more than charming storefronts and historic houses. It’s people who stay, who show up, who care for the place all week long.

So if you’re longing to feel like you belong in a place like Hudson, know that it comes not based on how long you’ve been here, but for how you show up for this community. Belonging grows through care, consistency, and the willingness to be uncomfortable sometimes. Building community is hard work, yes – but here, in this place, I’ve come to believe it’s the whole point.

Frannie doesn’t live on our street anymore. But she still visits. She drops off treats for our dogs. She catches up with Bernie on her porch. Her absence is still felt – but so is her presence, because she showed up. She invested in this place and in us. That’s what it means to belong. That’s what we can choose to build. And we can build it together.

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P.S. I’ve just turned on paid subscriptions for All My Dead and Living Things. My Uncle Pat inspired it when he left a check on my porch as an annual subscription. That gesture — along with the folks who have already pledged subscriptions — helped me realize I want to grow something here. Not just a newsletter, but a real writing life rooted in this place, with the time and community support to tell the stories that matter.

If you’d like to help me do that, you can become a paid subscriber for $5/month or $50/year. Most posts will stay free, but paid support gives me space to go deeper, write more often, and invest in this work for the long haul.

Thank you for reading along — it means so much to me!