Living in coronavirusworld 231: To better days

 12/18

Reindeer in the snow

Chanukah lights on the sidewalk

The last day of Hanukah.  And one week until Christmas. In the freezing cold, I walk from Harlem to the Upper West Side. Walking down 86th Street, I see dancing Chanukah lights projected on the sidewalk. As I walk down Amsterdam, I see that while Harlem may be quiet, the Upper West Side is jumping. The bars where  young adults hang out, that is their outside tables, are pretty full. Several restaurants are also full outside, even in this weather. Some have overhead or street level heaters. I meet a friend at our regular place, the Gate.Which has neither. Hot toddies help. And hot chicken wings. 

the Gate's Christmas tree

For awhile I’m excited that New Yorkers are not letting 30 degree weather shut them down. We talk about great outdoor winter experiences in Oslo and Amsterdam. But after an hour, I’m beginning to feel it, especially my feet wet from street corner  slush puddles now way too cold. Time to head home and host the Open Mic. The digital gremlins are at work again, but I open up  my iPad and it works. Our last Open Mic of the year. 

Today it was revealed that a top Trump health adviser basically argued we should let people get infected and die so as to achieve herd immunity. Sort of the human sacrifice strategy. Our current death totals are a 9-11 every 24 hours. 

12/19

ready for Christmas at the Farmer's Market

Freezing cold, but the Farmer’s Market is still happening. Even though some booths have had to change their usual place because of piled snow,  most have shown up. The last two days, I’ve switched from glasses to contacts, tired of my glasses constantly fogging over when wearing my mask and unable to see. So I’m happy to see everything in the market clearly. Since it’s the last market before Christmas, I’m also looking for presents. I get some preserves from upstate  and fresh honey gathered from rooftop hives in Harlem. I like that. Before heading home, I sit on a bench surrounded by snow with a fresh baked  cinnamon bun and a Colombian coffee. 

we made latkes

To our family Channukah gathering, I bring fresh apple cider and apple pear sauce  from an upstate farm for the latkes.  We’ve made them old school style by hand grating potatoes and also the OreIda home fries hack style. While waiting for the lakes to get done, we talk with my mom on ZOOM, back from one more visit to the hospital emergency room from another fall from her chair. Covid will keep her isolated over Christmas. We enjoy our brunch, as it extends into early evening. 

On my way hime, I notice two small, lonely  tables open outside my neighborhood pub. I decide to stop by. The manager is happy to see me. No tiny plastic houses here. Seems Stella Artois didn’t want to  go south of 116th Street. Representatives of the city  came by to strictly enforce the mayor’s latest constantly changing decrees. One block up the street, every table is full in  the Harlem Tavern’s heated, enclosed “outdoor” beer garden. For managers like my friend it all seems random and arbitrary. We all acknowledge the peril of this time. But the overall policy never seems consistent or even coherent. And some beloved businesses may not make it.Many already gone.  We’ve known this for some time. As congress bickers and squabbles over what kind of relief package to offer. I tell my friend I’m just stopping by, not hungry having just had  a great meal. He shakers his head, says not to  worry about the mandatory food sales requirements for buying  a drink. Besides, he says, if I share a shot with you, you’re not buying anything…So he brings out a whiskey bottle, pours two shot. We drink a toast to better days.