3/26
 |
| Turnstile Marketplace ghost town |
I have a talk with a friend in Pennsylvania. She’s a disabilties consultant for the Presbyterians, a chaplain at a disabilities residential facility and an interim pastor. Many of her clients at the residential facility have spent their lives there. The virus wreaks havoc with their care. As we talk about our lives, she says something I hadn’t thought about yet. “We are leaning on the least of these,”she said. “Grocery clerks, pharmacy clerks, deli workers, delivery people…they are putting themselves at risk to keep us going.” I think about it, and she’s right. Those at that end of the workforce are out in the midst of it.
I have to do serious reflection about my therapy appointment. For some reason, my rehab place is still open. I thought we were switching to video, but they called and asked if I was coming in. I thought about it, would I be putting anyone else at risk by going in? Was it responsible? When I realized I would have have no contact with any other human beings, I felt I could go and feel reasonably ok about it
As I passed through the Turnstile Marketplace at Columbus Circle, a veritable ghost town, I remembered how last Tuesday it was full of life and two days later my footsteps echoed down the hall. One week later, only two of the twenty eating places remain open, a doughnut shop and a pizza place. (That’s a healthy combination!) I get to my place, get my therapy and head home. Deciding to take a long walk up Broadway. Not always clear why one place is open and another closed. Most banks now closed though some remain open. Why is Starbucks closed when they could do takeout? Just not clear. Why is AT&T mobile open and Verizon closed? It’s very confusing. I pass by Shakespeare & Co. and remember how last Tuesday, amazingly, it was still open. I went in. The only customer. Bought a copy of Where the Crawdads Sing so I could read and talk about it with my homebound mom. With the closing of her assisted care facility’s dining room, she’s virtually confined to her room.
Walking up the street, seeing all the masks, I feel I’m in an episode of HBO’s “Watchmen.” In a series where almost everyone, good guys and bad, wear masks, I remember two quotes. First, “Masks make men cruel”. And then: "You can't heal under a mask, Angela. Wounds need air." I wonder how long until I put one one on and how long until we unmask once again.
Today was supposed to be opening day of baseball season. I wear my Pirate hat. Finish my walk. My meditation. You now have to enter the buses through exit door, to protect the drivers. We all sit six feet or more apart.
Tonight my friend Peter, the one who had the off-Broadway run of his musical about Robert Moses, Bulldozer, was going to have a show at my neighborhood club Silvana. His show is on Facebook Live instead. For the next 24 hours any proceeds of sales of his cd or other music sales will go to support places he’s performed the have supported him that are now closed.(https://store.cdbaby.com/Artist/PeterGalperin) So it’s a night of his original music and craft beers. We do what we can.
And lean on the least….
No comments:
Post a Comment