9/18
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| All is one |
A day so much out of the house….coffee with a friend whose sister died. A well known author. Long family debates about what they could do in the midst of Covid. Had to make a decision fast. Just direct family members, graveside. A local Episcopal priest, sensitive to the needs of the family. And it was over. The public memorial that would have been so meaningful to so many couldn’t happen. I will tell her that when this is over, it would still be appropriate. The months have been hard on my friend. Months without seeing …or touching…her grandchildren. I know what that feels like. Finally over. For her. The disorienting brokenness of time and how hard it is to maintain your sense of identity in isolation, alienated from your regular sense of order. Taking its toll.
Dinner with another friend. As the sun sets, it’s getting that feeling of fall in the air. Unmistakably. We haven’t seen each other in six months. She is a pastor on the staff of a tall steeple church. No stopping live streaming any time soon. Even with their resources, health concerns are paramount. No reopening until sometime next year. We have other friends we need to reconnect with. Another friend left after 20 years to return to Scotland. In the midst of covid. We never got to say goodbye. He had been kind of the glue for the clergy in the neighborhood. Called us together for study. And social events. And sometimes even action. It was a completely unofficial role. But he filled it. Since he’s gone, no one has taken his place. Which makes it so hard to respond to something like the current homeless in hotels controversy in the upper westside as an organized faith community. Oh, and this was her first August in over a decade to be in the city and not Europe.
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| Sahbbat shalom |
Tonight is Rosh Ha Shana. The Jewish New Year. This was my post:
To my chaverim....L'shanah tovah....if ever there was a time we needed a fresh start, this would be it...let this be a beginning and may we make the most of it...
A friend posted this message:
RBG
RIP
According to Jewish tradition, a person who dies on Rosh Hashanah, which began tonight, is a tzaddik, a person of great righteousness. Baruch Dayan HaEmet.
That word, tzaddik, truly defines Judge Ruth Bader Ginsburg who died today. May she rest in power.
Her loss is great. Especially knowing that the Republicans will do everything in their power to push through a nominee before the election. Even given that Senator McConnell proudly refused to allow President Obama’s nominee to even be presented and heard. ‘Let the people decide” he said then. Now he says, the people decided. Hey, one more struggle in a year of struggle.
9/19
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| The year of coronavirus (Farmers' Market art) |
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| Stop the dying (Farmers' Market art) |
The trip to the farmer’s market yields fresh apples and a round raisin challah for Rosh Ha Shana. And a bottle of artisanal rye. Masks in place, as always.
Going to the Times Square neighborhood to see my first live concert in six months. A new music chamber group. In a rehearsal studio. Masks required. Only ten audience members allowed.
On the subway ride there, for the first time in six months, the “show time” B-Boys are back using subway racks and polls for intricate daring athletic gymnastic hip hop dance moves. They ask several of us to move for room for their show. I regret how ambivalent I feel about all this. On the one hand, they present another small step on the road back to normalcy. On the other, I enjoyed the quiet spaced out rides these last several months. A reminder of the daily human hum and throb we accept as normal. ‘I miss the quiet,”: she said.
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| The street speaks |
To get into the concert, I have to have a beam shined on my forehead to take my temperature. Have to remove my hat. A Siri-like voice responds “temperature normal” and I enter. I have missed these musician friends. Obviously most of their audience is still online. The concert is “This is the winter of our discotheque.” Mixing together Shakespeare, disco, chamber and covid. It’s oaky to raise your mask for a vodka.
I linger in Times Square on the way home. Amazed at how many people are out. Street performers are back. And the annoying cartoon characters who try to get you to take their picture fo r$20. My annoyance argues with my awareness that most of these characters are immigrants doing their best just to get by. I have not seen the Naked Cowboy or las desnudas yet, however. Who is here? Why? Certainly not tourists. Not with 31 states still on the quarantine list. Probably a pretty fair share of Bridge and Tunnel people. Other than the street performers, nothing's going on. No Broadway shows, no music scene to speak of. Maybe just some city people happy to get out. Happy to recreate something that brings back a memory of a different time. The performers, the characters, desperately need the money.
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