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?