Living in coronavirusworld 126: we count all our victories

7/30

surveying the pond

In Coronavirustime, we count all our victories.

Today I submitted for reimbursement for consulting work that will brig me some $3K  dollars in this tight time. 

I get to pick my new progressive glasses, which I haven’t had for at least 3 years.

I ordered a small airconditioner via Amazon which may actually come. ( I discovered to my disappointment that the one I ordered 5 week ago turns out to be Hong Kong based. I don’t have much hope on that except possible PayPal reimbursement.)

man down

That’s a good day. And on my way back from getting my glasses, I saw a man down on the street. A circle of people standing around.  I take a few steps then return. Has anybody called 911?   Blank stares. I call 911, want for the FDNY ambulance to  show up and lay the man in.  I'm guessing a combination of alocohol and heat.  Then I can continue my journey to the Park where the birds are out in force and then home. 

One of my West Park Open Mic friends has invited me to a Yale (virtual) Cabaret which he hosts. Turns out to be mainly a gathering of  friends from the class of ’70.  One wearing his Yale hat. As I check in, one is remembering standing behind William Sloane Coffin, Jr. in the Battel Chapel Choir. My life crossed paths with Bill Coffin’s on number of significant occasions. He even offered me a job one time.  I’ve been with him in New Haven, NewYork City, Tulsa, Pittsburgh and Managua. But those are all their  own stories. I will only here remember how he grabbed a special flight  back form Florida where he was speaking so he could join the Yale Chorus for Beethoven’s 9th at Carnegie Hall.  A circle of friends drove down together for the performance. One of  my chorus friends was truly taken aback when Bill described Beethoven’s 9th like watching  Seaver on the mound.  He was an important witness for justice and peace. And he lived large.

They were all at Yale in heady days. One remembers playing “C’mon people now, smile on your brother..” To national guardsmen patrolling New Haven. These were days of urban riots and bank robberies by the Black Liberation Army. (One trial of which I was involved in as a paralegal.) Garry Trudeau was in that class as well as most of the cast of characters of Doonesbury. Meryl Streep would be in my (later) class.  Some here have been well known musicians. Led good professional lives. Dealing with bodies that break down, hearts and kidneys and partners with Alzheimers. So it is at our age. There are spoken word pieces, actual poems and songs, beloved covers and some fine originals. I do one of each.  For a few hours I remembered what it was like being in New Haven in the wake of urban uprising and the waning days of the Vietnam War. 

Where we are now seems every bit as significant. And much more frightening. 

Outside, my neighbor is playing Teddy Pendergast and Eddie is remembering being an r&b crooner. And showing us. Music seems to sneak us past mortality. 

Living in coronavirusworld 125: Time for more good trouble

7/29

...searching?

Our underground group this morning starts with a reference to John Lewis: “It’s time for more good trouble.”

We spend some tome exploring the difference in the words libertarian, liberal, Neo-liberal and conservative, especially in terms of trying to understand the current moment. For me, it’s hard to have the word libertarian  used to define the dark money behind Trump, namely the path defined by James McGill Buchanan in Nancy McLean’s Democracy in Chains. In my younger days, libertarians were the kind of quirky folks at the edge of the movement smoking pot and against government authority of any kind. Sort of the Arlo Guthries of politics. Likewise, in South America, and historically in Europe the word  liberal also had a meaning very different than it does here today, also demanding the freest markets possible. And democratic decison making. (Thus the followers of Milton Friedman defining themselves as neoliberals.)  Historically, liberals were the opposite of conservatives, who were royalists, believers in monarchy.  Words have a way of  morphing on us as circumstances change. 

Steve P reminds us that liberal religion, by tradition, rejected all authority.

Joel speaks of having grown up evangementalist (his word) where scripture  was inerrant. Steve P reminds us that Calvin said, "Unless the Holy Spirit starts to the reading of scripture, it is a demonic letter.”

Norm recalls that his Baptist tradition historically affirmed that my interpretation alway takes place within the congregation, the community. They were also historically champions of the separation of church and state. Their turn to the right was not dictated by their history or theology.

It’s all leading up to what we’ve been avoiding, the topic of the day which is where are we now? In light of the current state of division, as one of us says, we are either in conversation or a place of war. 

Steve P has started a “100 day journal” to note where we are each day on the way to election day, Novemeber 3rd. We have been reading pundits who question whether the President will actually accept defeat. We are not being overreactive in these fears. Former President Obama has said the idea keeps him up at night. And the President himself has planted the seeds, refusing to say he would accept the outcome, floating the idea of postponing the election.

Campaigns of voter suppression are underway. The US Postal Service is beige destroyed as “mail in ballots” are being treated with disdain. 

Dre says that he is simply afraid. Is character revealed in ideas or actions?

Is Portland an example of a dying empire, or something worse?  As I look at the President’s deployment of his private federal forces in Portland and now threatened in almost any democratic run city, I feel I am in late Weimar. Noticing each step. 

Historian Joe says, “This is  the way it happens.”  

De wonders whether we need a new strategy. We recall Vaclav Havel said in “The Power of the Powerless” that once the people stop surrenduring, power ceases to exist.

Joel sees the President as a shape shifter, the Britney Spears ( no offense Britney) of politics. 

Steve P recalls how Nixon and Regan won through racism and a dash of miscogeny. (Maybe more than a dash). Trump is working the same angle. We’ve also  have his camouflage wearing arms bearing “volunteers” on the US-Mexico border and storming legislatures. Meanwhile armed and organized black groups like NFAC (Not Fuckimg Around Coalition) have appeared in Stone Mountain Georgia.

Joel says, “We can never see past the chaos we can’t understand…” and Dre wonders what a “family therapy” approach might look like. 

We end up whee we began, with John Lewis who said simply, "get in the way…”

My walk in the park today doesn’t calm me much.

I meet with board of the Interfaith Assembly on Homelessness and Housing. We are still seeing record numbers of homeless people, street vulnerable to covid19. And an eviction crisis looms as the rent moratorium (and that’s all it was, not forgiveness) expires…

Living in coronavirusworld 124: collateral damage

7/28

Harlem Tavern

The heat continues unrelenting.

We measure our lives by small victories. At the Best market, the Barbecue counter is back for the first time in 4 months. To tell the truth, I didn’t understand what the issue was with barbecue to begin with. But hey, welcome back. And I’ll be taking some barbecue brisket home with me.  For what it’s worth, the sushi bar is back, too.  Didn’t know why got shut down either. Step by step.

in the park....

In the Park, a goose is walking around in the picnic area, checking out the grounds. The turtles are sunning themselves.  When I see them swim, they look like I do swimming the breast stroke.

In Portland, the face-off continues between protestors and the presidents federal troops.  An op ed in the Times has wondered whether the “weird” that Portland…and other places like Austin, Texas and Lake Worth, Florida pride themselves on being may be a function of privilege. Only white people can be “weird.” For people of color it’s too risky.  

Birth control activist and feminist pioneer Margaret Sanger has had her name removed  from New York City’s Planned Parenthood clinic although her statue remains in Greenwich Village. For the moment. Sanger’s reproductive activism was rooted in eugenics and a racist commitment to remove the “weeds” from America’s birth stock. The early connections between abortion and eugenics and the continued disparity of abortion in practice raises some uncomfortable issues in the abortion  conversation that cannot be avoided much longer.

The Ozone Park Session meets  for the first time in four months with an advisory commission from Presbytery.  Like many small churches, this has been a difficult time. They have lost their weekly offerings. They had survived mainly from the rental of their education building by another congregation and that income  too is gone. They  have been unable to pay their insurance and have had to take out a loan from Presbytery. To pay off that loan, tonight they commit to selling their education building. During the covid crisis, they lost two bulwarks of the church, a husband and  wife who died within  weeks of each other from the virus. A member of the Advisory Commission was asked to develop a plan for reopening the church. And it was decided  that the first service after reopening would be a memorial for this couple.  This church of primarily ethnic Asian  Indian immigrants from Trinidad and Tobago and other former British colonial West Indies islands is barely hanging on. Many of our small ethnic churches may not make it through the pandemic, collateral damage. 

I’m a guest of “an independent leftist historian” and Carl Dix, revolutionary communist organizer on the topic of police violence.  We talk about the roots of the word police, in Latin politia, or citizen, government and policy, or public order.  How originally “policing,” in English tradition was carried out by citizens each taking their  turns under the direction of a constable. (So humorously portrayed in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.) The permanent organizing of a public police force grew directly as part of the chattel slavery system of the south.  Until today, when the municipal police serve as an occupying army in service of the empire. (Of course not denying that there are still those, especially immigrants and persons  of color who see this service as away of helping  their families and building good lives. And perhaps aiding their  community.

The heavily armed militarized police and the LA style SWAT teams are latter developments. But the President’s new force is a  different and ominous   element. We could go on with the litany of victims of police violence  and brutality for days without ceasing. (Say their names…) But I press Carl to give us a picture of what a better, socialist world might look like. (I’ve read the party’s constitution several times over and although it is amazingly thorough,  well thought out and attractive, this area apart from the general category of armed forces, militia and other organs of public defense and security..is relatively vague. For Carl, it is all based on commitment  to principles. He recounts a story from his youth where an epileptic woman was mistaken for drunk, manhandled and arrested. Carl retells it as now being handled with committed mental health professionals and community workers.  Ultimately the party (rightfully) believes that the current police crisis is inseparable from the system as it were.  Therefore the best  you can do is to devote yourself to full time  revolution.  I can’t go there. I also have to attend to damages being done to real people in the inexorable present. 

And as unchanging  as the story of police violence is, the response today is unlike anything I’ve eve seen before in my life.  It's  time to bring about changes that can save real lives while the larger battle continues. 

        

living in cornavirusworld 123: We have enough

7/27

House of Prayer for all people

Tonight our Bible Study group study group takes on the feeding of the 5000, Matthew version. (Matthew 14: 13-21). It’s one of the few stories to be found in all four gospels. And Matthew is the only one with  twin feeding stories, in 15: 32-39, feeding 4000. When the story opens, Jesus is emotionally exhausted. He has just received word that John the Baptist has been executed. He just wants to get way.  But they find where he is and follow anyways.  Seeing them he is filled with compassion, (or as Andew McCutchen called it, empathy) that turns him back to the people with healing. And it is compassion that will push him to respond to the matter of actual physical hunger. We will find here echoes of prophet’s healing stories like Elijah (1 Kings 17: 8-16) and Elisha (2 Kings 4: 42-44). And in his bruchas, thanksgivings, foreshadowings of the last supper. 

The disciples want him to send the people away. But he says NO, you give them something to eat. And therein begins the story of how five loaves and two fish feed 5000 men and...more... women and children. There is no intention here for Jesus of an attention gaining miracle. It is simply to see hungry people fed. As Leila said, food is real. And there is enough. And leftovers. Enough for 12 baskets. (Hmmm….one for each tribe!  In the 4000 story, there are 7, perhaps a reference to gentiles.) The miracle here is not of production but distribution. Nothing is said about the how…you can pick your theory form the divine miracle, etc. to the hidden food argument. The point is …they were fed. There was enough. 

We have enough, There is bounty enough in the world to feed the world. We pay farmers to destroy food and not grow food to artificially boost price supports. That’s crazy. The disciples start with a needs assessment, Jesu responds with a capacities assessment. 

Refugee camps are filled with turned away people.

Prisons are teeming with Covid 19

Far too many of us are alone

Where do we find compassion?

When have  we been desperate for food, healing, love, compassion?  

When do we long to escape, just get in the boat and row away?

Jesus moves towards that which is most daunting. What do we have that can feed? Heal? 

ready for home opener

As someone says, you have to use what you’ve got to get what you need. We like Jesus, when it is as daunting as it is now, must move towards. Faced with an overwhelming situation, all we can do is do what  we can. But that means having to realize what we do have and use it. With wisdom and compassion.

I’m sorry Jesus never got that rest he was looking for. Marsha was struck by the phrase a lonely place. We know that place. 

When Bible study is over. I check in on my Pirates’ home opener. I dress for the  occasion.  So weird to see an empty stadium with piped in crowd noises. That’s all I will say of that.

Living in Coronavirusworld 122: Good trouble, necessary trouble

7/26

African dance class

West Park is working with lay led services. This Sunday Russ is leading. He’s asked me to play. He’s put together a beautiful tribute to John Lewis from his history as a young Freedom Rider to his elder statesman role as the conscience of congress. Russ reminds us of the quote by Lewis: I want to see young people in America feel the spirit of the 1960s and find a way to get in the way. To find a way to get in trouble. Good trouble, necessary trouble.  It was part of Dr. King’s strategy to have his marchers dressed in their Sunday best. White shirts and ties. The picture of John Lewis, head cracked open, blood streaming down his face onto his white shirt was one of those iconic photos that helped turn the tide of pubic opinion against segregation and towards passage of the Civil Rights Act.  Much as the video of the brutal murder of George Floyd has galvanized our country in its awareness of police brutality. 

Russ’ reflection focuses on the  mustard seed (Matthew 13: 24ff.) and accompanying parables. We share about our transformational moments. I recall sitting at home as 14 year old hearing Dr.King speak from Washington, DC. How the words thrilled through me. Stirred my heart.  And I felt I had to make a commitment to do my part. That was 47 yeas ago. 

Russ has asked me to sing “Blowin’ in the Wind.” I recall hearing it sung by Peter, Paul and Mary. My pastor quoting the song in connection with the Holy Spirit and the Spirit of the Times. I winced as he spoke of Bob DYElan. When I first heard Dylan sing his own song, it was raw and pure as nothing I’d heard before. So I sing his song. Simple, And at the end add my part about reflecting on the Parkland students protesting after their school massacre and how somehow maybe “blown’ in the wind” is not enough. Maybe we have to believe and act as if the answer is in our own hands.

Russ ends the service by reminding us to look for the right kind of trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble.

The unrelenting heat continues. I meet  my friend at the Morningside Pond.  I tell her what I watch for there on a daily basis. We hear a steady beat of drums and see an African dance class underway.                    

We’ll walk over to Fredrick Douglass to the Harlem Tavern with its large umbrellas and ample shade. Time for cold drinks and appetizers.  And in the back of my mind, good trouble,  necessary trouble.                                                                                                                    

e

Living in coronavirusworld 121: Saturday in the park

7/25

.....and art....

Cutch

“We're really rooting for the laundry” Jerry Seinfeld once remarked. His point was that when it comes to sports, it doesn’t matter who’s in the jersey, we cheer anyways. Well, not completely true. Andrew McCutchen was the face of my hometown Pirates team during their brief resurrection 2013-15. He loved the city so much he named his first born son “Steel.” For 9 years he led the team. It broke his heart…and ours…when they traded him in one of their perpetual cost cutting moves to San Francisco.  I followed him there and then with joy to his all too brief sojourn with my now home Yankees. And now I follow him in Philadelphia. And wear his number for today’s game. Turns out he created the idea of  players from both teams kneeling with a long band of black fabric then rising together, He wrote a speech, recorded by Morgan Freeman, speaking to the moment:

"In order to achieve effective change and create a new canvas of optimism, empathy must lead the charge. This moment signifies our charge. Our brotherhood. Our unity. Equality and unity cannot be until there is empathy. This is a moment for us to honor each other, to honor the things that we're going through. With the social injustices we're going through in this country, with the things that exist outside our nation -- places like Venezuela, the Dominican Republic. To honor that and show that we honor each other, that we have each other's back, that we're going to fight for each other. And the way we do that is by collectively being together as one. This is a representation of that.”

Across baseball, only one player refused to kneel, because, he said, he was a “Christian” and only kneels before “God, Jesus.”  And Black Lives Matter seems Marxist to him. Sigh. Sometimes it’s embarrassing. But thank you, Cutch. Sometimes the person inside matters more than the laundry.

Happy birthday, Dad

"sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart"

Morningside Park as every weekend is filled with human activity.  It’s somebody’s father’s birthday. Other family events taking place. I learn later I missed my neighbors’ barbecue celebrating the life of Chico, who sat with us outside the apartment so many times.  Since we can’t have people in our apartments, the parks have become our communal gathering places.

green market

Today I actually make it for the green market prime time. A panoply of vegetables, fruit, meat and fish, baked goods, spirits and arts and crafts. Next time I will bring my bags.

For weeks I’ve been waiting to see the Irish Repertory Theatre’s production of “The Weir.”  I somehow missed that it was only at 3PM, not an on demand streaming, so I missed the whole thing. The level of upset I felt is an indication to me of how in this coronavirusworld an accumulation of disappointments one on top of the other can push you to the edge. And I realize, yeah, I do a pretty good job, but I go there. We go there.

Instead I watch the new romcom “Palm Springs” with Andy Samberg and Cristin Miloti. It’s a new take on the classic “Groundhog Day” theme of waking up to the same day over and over again. Oh yeah, we come up with creative ventures,  a new twist or two to fill the day, but you wake up and there you are…the same day again. Yeah. If only this virus were as easy to break as a cosmic time loop. Quantum physics anyone? 

Living in cornonavirusworld 120: the perfection of creation

7/24

the squirrel

New York City Presbytery’s discussion group on the Black Women and Girls report meets. Tellingly, only one of our Black women leaders is in attendance. One of the members of the Justice Committee invites us to the (virtual) unveiling of a women’s leaders statue in Central Park on August 26th, It will include Sojourner Truth, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and SusanB.Anthony. Our commsioners share their frustration with General Assmebly and its failure to deal with the Black Women’s report. New York City Presbytery had been one of four Presbytery’s to be selected  for work on a previous Assembly action regarding Black Men, Freedom Rising.  The question was raised as to why it was restricted to men only. Was this another case of miscogeny? Actually no. This was an historic moment when the attack on Black men felt particularly acute. With bitterness and irony, African American men were spoken of as an “endangered species.” Black women commissioners supported an effort specifically for men. With no funding and no staff, the Freedom Rising initiative is fading away.

Our lone representative from the community of Black women, says  that frankly they are tired of telling their story…over and over with personal cost and seeing nothing gained. There can only be conversation with intentionality. And there must be action. As we begin to think of possible grant possibilities and potential scholarship programs, the mood changes, With the possibility of concrete action, perhaps conversation can begin again.

Conversation continues about a documentary on the Radical Monarchs, a social justice based alternative to the Girl  Scouts developed inOakland, California especially to speak to the issues faced by black and brown girls. (https://wearetheradicalmonarchsmovie.com/).  And so we will continue. Can it be different this time? 

The heat continues. On the edge of the park, I see a squirrel perched on a garbage barrel. He’s eating pizza. When he drops a piece, he’ll look around then dive back into the barrel and  emerge with another morsel. Never before corona would I have watched a squirrel for 20 minutes. In this coronavirus world, I have become ever more aware of other living beings. And ever more convinced that most creatures in creation are perfect for what  they are supposed to be. That our similarities are so much more than differences. Even dinosaurs had recognizable skeletons, eyes, brains, teeth, stomachs, penises. All eat, excrete and reproduce. An amazing intricate design in which we are only a part. I watch the squirrel finish its pizza. And continue my walk.

ready for the game

I had intended to spend my night watching my home town Pirates play  their  first ball game of the season but wind up having to host the West Park Open Mic. At first its just Malcolm and me. Swapping songs. I put the ball game on my Ipad and watch while I host. Soon Kosi  joins  from Baltimore  and then Dion joins us. One by one players join us. And then her friend Chris comes in from Erie, Pennsylvania and makes the night. He's part of what I'm learning is a burgeoning indie scene in the northwest corner of the state.  And a friend of Matt Boland who lit up our Beggar's Banquet recreation with his rendition of Prodigal Son. I feel up to sharing my Covid Song "Social distance" for the first time. Chris compliments it as a 30 year old Dylan response to the Virus. I'll take that. And throws in a reference to Owen Meany (John Irving) which makes the night for me.

Before the end, the Pirates fight back but still fall short in a predictable loss. I end the night pleasantly  surprised at what can  happen when  you least suspect it in the strange word of connection that ZOOM makes possible. 

So strange watching baseball with no fans and recorded crowd noise. Ultimate irony...they are using  a soundtrack from a video game for real games. This is not ending soon.

Living in coronavirus world 119: opening day

7/23

Harlem Mural

The optometrist offcies are now open. It’s been  too long since I’ve had an eye exam. That’s enough to get me out of the house.

Magic Johnson Theatre

.....changing the things I cannot accept...

Hand shake no, Harlem Shake Yes.

the latest from Atlah

I notice all the plywood is gone from the 125th Street shops. Except for the Magic Johnson Theatre whose protective plywood has become a community message/graffiti board.I love the flow of life up and down 125th. The ubiquitous Black Lives Matter shirt vendors, the phrase of the summer. I stop at my bank and then to the storied  Harlem Shake for a hot dog to celebrate the opening of baseball season. I choose a Snoop Dogg, smothered with chili and cheese. Halfway down Lenox, I realize that I left my kinte cloth mask at the Shake. I go back, but too late. I stop to see the latest wisdom from Atlah then decide against ice cream and head home.

It’s the opening (at last ) of baseball season. I last saw a game on my way out of Florida March 7th. Everything shut down week later. 

In the Yankees-Nationals game from DC,  Dr. Anthony Fauci is invited to throw the first pitch. His throw is wild as a virus. Someone will later say he didn’t want anyone to catch anything. Both teams took a knee holding a long black ribbon, then rose together for the National Anthem. I was impressed that in the later game, Giants manager Gabe Kapler and several player remained kneeling.  New Dodger Mookie Betts remained kneeling, teammates hands on his shoulder. The initials BLM on the mound in Washington. Players are wearing either Black Lives Matter or United for Change patches or both. I love the market penetration of Black Lives Matter, but please don’t let it be too easy.

Sometimes I feel I am ordering things online just to have the pleasure of waiting for things to be delivered and surprised on any day. Like the little boy waiting for the Wells Fargo Wagon in theMusic Man. “….or it could be something special  just for me…”

I am upset to see Mariani Rivera as a special  White House guest  of the President. Having a catch with him. Mariano was the quintessence of all that can be good about a ballplayer. Quiet. Focused. Determined. A good teammate. The perfect closer. The last player to wear Jackie’s number, 42. A true Yankee, as they say. Like the essence of decency. I was gifted  a photo of Mariano’s farewell. Behind him I can see my regular seats. It’s a beautiful photo of one of those players who meant a lot to me like Clemente, Jeter, McCutchen. But I haven’t had the heart to put it on my wall. It remains on the floor behind a table and lamp. Because of his inexplicable friendship with the President. Or all too explicable. Somewhere along the line he became a born again evangelical and has-been probably convinced by a beloved pastor that  the he owes allegiance  to this President who is the opposite of everything  I hold holy. 

I don’t understand why Mario can’t see what this President has done to people of his color. To people who speak his language. To immigrants just like him. I don’t believe there is a mean bone in Mariano Rivera’s body I believe he wants to be a good, decent and faithful man. But playing ball with Trump feels like a betrayal of all that. The picture stays on the floor, out of sight. 

I’m shocked when my son texts me to let me know the President has been invited to throw out a first pitch on August 15 against the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium. He wants to go to the stadium to protest. So Yankee’s President Randy Levine is “friends” with the President. What is he thinking? Can anyone still imagine  this is a normal President? One where even if we had widely divergent understandings of political directions,  there was a basic respect for the office because the office holder respected the office. Where standard courtesies would still be extended  because the officeholder is courteous? That the President truly IS the President of all of us and somehow represents all of us? Can anyone still believe that? He doesn't even care.

I thought the final death knell of any semblance of democracy was the day I realized we put children into cages. We do that. And how much more there was to come. Today federal military personnel under the aegis of Homeland Security are patrolling the streets of our cities with no ids and unmarked vans pulling people out at random. Ponder that into you believe it. That’s where we are.  I don’t know what world Levine thinks we’re living in. I’ve spent much too many dollars on the Yankees in my 25 years here.  I'm actually a "partial season ticket holder." This all feels so disrespectful of all of us who sat through years of the gritty democracy of the old Yankee Stadium though sun and snow. We tolerate the Taj Mahal Las Vegas style “Yankee Experience” that seeks to mimic the old stadium while creating a new temple of income inequality across the street from where Mantle, Ruth, Berra and Bernie played the field.  If you’re calling out a rally, I’ll be there.