10/24
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| October |
The young man who lives with me’s younger sister died—of Covid— in Mississippi. So he and his sister drove all the way through the night to get there on time for the funeral. Anxious to be back in time for work, he flew back and reported only to discover that because Mississippi is on the “bad list” he would have to quarantine for two weeks. And so he is housebound.
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| The morning vote line |
As I head outside at 10:30 am, there is a line all round the avenue’s block of people waiting to vote as “early voting” has begun.
A friend has come from Pittsburgh to celebrate her birthday. We’re meeting to tour the Harlem Audobon Bird Murals. Painted by various artists all through Audobon’s old Harlem neighborhood. (https://www.audubon.org/amp) What I find interesting is our responses to Covid. This is my friend’s first venture out of Pittsburgh. Filled with anxiety about the airport and plane. Mask and goggles. She is the first house guest since the lockdown for her friends from Alphabet City. They come to Harlem via car since neither has been on the subway or bus since March. Slowly …and cautiously…they are beginning to check things out. I find this common among friends my age. We are all more careful. It’s leaving the fallout shelter. But it’s still radioactive out there.
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| bluebird |
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| Audobon birds |
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| Diana and her owl |
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| Audobon grave |
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In the midst of birds, a memorial: we are still dying |
The murals…it takes someone from out of town tell you about something you’ve missed right in your own neighborhood. Some are sketchy. Some are spectacular and arresting. Some have been graffitied already. It’s wonderfully and typically urban in scope and execution. We walk through the streets of this Audubon neighborhood where the immigrant from the Caribbean built his estate neighboring that of his West Indies predecessor Alexander Hamilton. The former
BeauxArt headquarters of the American Geographic Society was the base of operations for various famous polar expeditions, including the (Lady)Franklin Polar Exedition, is in the same neighborhood. We go to the Trinity Church Cemetery to visit Audobon’s grave before finishing our tour.
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| after lunch |
Eating Seneglese food under the canopy at Les Ambasades feels like a normal visit. But the car ride with open windows was a reminder it is not.
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| Fauci has respect in the hood |
Later there’s another walk. Meeting in Morningside, walking through Central Park noting the slowly changing colors as yellow and browns are appearing along with steadily falling leaves. The Public Schools seem to be settling into pattern. But I just heard that my alma mater, after opening, has now shut down again. Both us are filled with anxiety regarding the election. Earlier at lunch, the other man at the table forbade political talk.
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| afternoon line |
As I head home, the line still runs around the block. This makes me feel good.
10/25
Take a morning off from church. As I step out for coffee and the Sunday Times, I see the round the block line again. My neighbor, who sit outside and watches the street, says people began arriving at 7:30AM and where still there, even in the sub 50’ weather. (9’C) Some has waited three hours the day before without getting to vote.
In our Sunday "international chat"
, our son tells us Germany is up to 900 new cases a day now. He’s more and more convincingly that Covid is there and is not going away and can’t be controlled. Questioning the renewed imposition of protocols. The very thought of being quarantined for two weeks with two preschoolers is daunting. His brothers teasingly accuse him of sounding like a Trump supporter. He replies the difference is that he believes in science and knows it’s real. I know what the protocols are doing to my mom.
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| Bar 9 |
It’s cold and drizzling as I make it to Bar9. What once was We Love Songwriters has become something else. Last week there was memo asking us to focus on upbeat covers. This week’s memo banned songs with religious or political references. The owner is worried about business. He’s now lost some artists without appreciable gain in audience. Only one patron has come indoors. Something about the temperature check and id gathering puts people off. (Though all of us performers have to do it. When I get up to sing, the previous performer’s "mic condom" is still on. I call on the host to remove it…)The rest of us huddle (well kind of, distanced) outdoors as we drink our beers and eat our wings and talk about recording in these corona days. It’s going to be a long winter.
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