Living in Coronavirusworld 146: Normalish

8/23

The "Monkey Cup"

a bit of Venezuela un Harlem

Sunday morning is just right for a walk to my favorite coffee shop with the Sunday Times. My friends from the Monkey Cup have slowly turned their outdoor cafe into a bit of Venezuela in Harlem. The owner’s use of branches left from our recent storm encourages me as New Yorkers keep taking what’s left in the pandemic and turning it into something beautiful.  

                                                   "Love your neighbor kind of stuff"

                                                 "Me and Jesus" John McCutchen

I stop by the West Park (virtual) worship service as my friend Russ tackles the Matthew version of Peter’s confession. The center of the conversation has to do with our collective responsibility as opposed to individual salvation. How the “kingdom” is something we are creating now, nota future reward. Russ has chosen to call it “the keys to the car” as opposed the “keys to the kingdom.” What we’re given is not the end but the beginning. The keys turn the engine on, but we’ve got to do the driving, stepping on the gas, or brakes, navigating the turns. It’s good to have one of our periodic visitors from Canada join us and share what Toronto is like these days. Russ chooses as his music “That Love Your Neighbor Kind of Stuff” by Scott Anderson and “Me and Jesus” by John McCutchen.   

In our weekly family ZOOM from Berlin, my son notes with irony that Berlin developed a plan for the brothels before the schools. 

I go to visit my friend Beppe to watch the European Champion league final between Bayern Munich and Pars St. Germaine live from an empty stadium in Lisbon. So strange with recorded fan chants. Family and friends in Germany put me on the Bayern side while Beppe, and as he says, “all of Europe” cheers for PSG.  A bit disconcerting seeing all the shots of massed fans in Paris, no masks, no social distance. This is the first time Beppe has invited me into his house since the lockdown began. I do a thorough cleansing of  my shoes. And hand sanitizer. There are neatly divided personal snack servings. Nothing touched in common.  Oh, and Bayern wins 1 nil.

We are "incidental" in harmony

I go to my weekly gig at Bar 9’s outdoor set up. I learned the week of the state edict that all music must be “incidental” to the serving of food. Like alcohol, we cannot be the main attraction.  Names and times cannot be publicized. Nevertheless, as odd as it feels, I am now a regular weekly “incidental.” I remain surprised at how nervous I feel in front of live people. I went over my set all afternoon, every song until all were perfect. Then I stand in front of real people and I start a tune wrong, forget chords and lyrics. Like wtf? Is this what reopening will be like? Until my friend joins me on harmony and all is right. I’m moved that one of our Friday night “virtual” open mc regulars  has come to perform and waited to see us. “It’s so starnge to see you in real life,” he says, “I mean good, but so strange….”  Another singer is wearing high heels.  We’re used seeing her and her partner in sweats in their apartment. Step by step.

the street has the last word

We sit, in the cool of the evening. Enjoy our drinks, Our host takes an extended set of favorites. Our server is a young woman from a steel town near where I grew up. She came here to “act.” Wanted to finish out ten years. “But if what I came here for no longer exists, why stay? Why not go home? I hear Pittsburgh’s pretty cool these days…” And it is. Filling with new young techies. Blue skies now. Here, in New York City,  we enjoy the coolness. Decide to split one more wine. The twinkling lights of the outdoor cafes on both sides of the street. The quiet comfort of well loved songs. Late August.  “It feels almost normal,” says my friend. “Well, normalish…”