Living in Coronavirusworld 31:" ...try to do what good lay in our power."

4/22

Good Question (Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 110th Street)

Our “underground group”…gathers again on ZOOM…over  coffee, of course.

Today’s hat of the day is a 1940’s  Oklahoma University hat commemorating the recent 25th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. 

Oklahoma

Brother Phelps reminds us of how hard it was for  people to stop thinking it had been done by an Arab or Muslims and realize it had been done by a whitebread American.   How President Bush’s iteration of “ we are good, they are evil.,” is the opposite of the  reformed theological tradition’s understanding that we are all sinners.  Has something to do with the continuing popularity of World War II movies where evil was so clear and we were on the side of right. 

Behind the protests demanding that the  country reopen is this attitude of “no one tells me what to do…” Typical of a six year old’s response to the world, says Phelps.  I respond that I have by nature a lifelong resistance to authority. That my natural tendency would be  to be out and about and not worry. But it was my awareness of what the impact of my actions might be on others that keeps me inside. “That’s the difference between a six year old and an adult’. Phelps responds.

It’s this ongoing American problem of the “rugged individual,” the fear of loss of control over one’s life and the failure to understand how what I do affects others.  The tension between “individual rights” and “social responsibility” which mirrors American evangelicals emphasis on individual salvation as opposed to stewardship of creation.  I describe the rush to reopen and the President’s goading as “extremely dangerous and potentially deadly” which brother Holton say would make a great t-shirt .

In talking about Camus’ the Plague, the similarities to our situation are striking. It’s moving that Camus’ humanism allows his priest, Father Paneloux, to grow.  The difference between his first two sermons is dramatic. And these words, to me, describe our task: No, we should go forward, groping our way through the darkness, stumbling perhaps at times, and try to do what good lay in our power.”  He had earlier spoke of the impact of children’s suffering and then said, “…who would dare assert that eternal happiness can compensate or a single moment’s human suffering?”  Another character, the journalist Rambert, desperate to escape and go to his lover, is transformed by his daily volunteer work and decides he must stay.  (Paneloux had said, “We all must be the one who stays…”) I share Camus’ humanism in that to me human solidarity in the face of struggle is the most sacred thing there is… And Steve Phelps says the Jesus of the gospels was a humanist...

Our plague, like Camus’ plague, is unveiling injustice. We can only hope, as Sam believes, that a new order will emerge.

Phelps points out that the two great crises of US history, the Civil War and the Great Depression, were preceded by weak Presidents, namely Buchanan and Hoover. Lincoln and Roosevelt were not “great” when they began, but grew into greatness in the facing of their crises. We can only hope for the same as we look to the future.

Clyde speaks of the quiet all around, like late summer in the city. Yes, I say, like it’s always August.  And I’m still waiting for Easter Sunday. 

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I look at the poster I received at the Penguins-Devils game in Newark on March 10th.  That was the last public event I attended. It's kind of a cool riff on a Batman "Bat Signal" theme, bit a little too Devilsphile for me to frame.  I get the sentiment, though.  We should send for Batman now.....

calling Batman

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My friend Hugo, who works at one of the West Side Federation for Senior and Supportive Housing residences, has brought me a lot of food.  (Origin seems to be with unneeded airline food…) Way too many sandwiches, so I decide to share with Sam for her food project with the homeless. We’ll meet at 5 on. Broadway near the subway.

On the way there, a woman on the sidewalk on 116th asks me to “help her get a meal.” I at first say “no,”then realize I’ve got lunch bags so I go back and give her one. She takes the bag the says, “how about some money?“  I reply, “you said you were hungry, I gave you food…” 

I meet Sam on Broadway, We’re each wearing our masks.

Sam

An unmasked man, Hispanic, walks unsteadily over to us. “Quiere morir?” He says, “Quiere morir?” “No mi hermano, no. No me quiero morir.  Porque algien se quiere morir? No hay razon en eso..”   He tries other conversational ploys like “De donde viene?” And both Sam and I tell him we’re from Nueva York, But he keeps returning to “Quiere morir?” (Do you want to die?) and he’s clearly drunk and much too close.  We need to move on. 

There are more and more people on the street, more and more aggressive and desperate in their begging. Obviously, no one wants to get near.  I remind myself that there are free meals at Wadleigh High School across the street and around the corner from me every day between 11:30 and 1. 

George lived here...

On 110th, I pass the building where George and Ira Gershwin lived when they wrote Rhapsody in Blue. What you never knew....

I decide to walk home. Stop at the Silver Moon bakery and have my first pastry since Lent began. And an iced coffee. Walking up the street with the post apocalytic emptiness of Broadway, I think, “This is weird, this is just weird.”

weird, just weird

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Wednesday night, my friends Joel and Carrie of ‘Hot Glue and the Gun”  host the second installment of their “Gluey, Zoomy Show.”  As someone comments in the chat flow, a combination of Kukla,Fran and Ollie, Sesame Street and Pee Wee’s Playhouse….” Man does someone else out there actually remember Kukla, Fran and Ollie?  They are hitting just the right place  for coronavrusworld. Especially ending with a dance party where we’re all invited to come on down and  hit the (virtual) floor. (http://www.hotglueandthegun.com/)

Meanwhile. My friend (and producer of my album) Luba Dvorak) continues his weekly “Quarantine Rambles” live from  Houston. (https://www.lubadvorak.com/)

Luba notices me in the room and mentions my album,”Robert Brashear: Songs Vol.1” (cdBaby, iTunes, Amazon, Spotify..) Thank you, Luba. His “Brooklyn Twang” Americana goes down easy.

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Thursday, my mom’s assisted care facility is setting up ZOOM calls for their residents. We’ve only got ten minutes. By the time we get set up, it’s all but over.  We’ll try again next week…

Late afternoon, go down to RL’s for a “Tribal Council” to introduce RL to ZOOM and talk about present and future Open Mic projects. We will be joined by Steve Blane, my friend and frequent collaborator.  RL’s is about the only place I would venture into. Almost hermetically sealed except for Dion’s daily visits.  On the way, I stop at the darkened “Hi Life” for a double bourbon to take with me. Even though it’s perfectly legal, the dark art eco interior and empty bar gives it all a kind shady feeling. RL sends Dion and I home by cab. 

Another day in coronavirusworld.

And good news

10/16

Ted Mapes, Sr. 

A day with no breathing space. Finally get to the church after the Labor Assistance Professionals luncheon in Queens Village, a visit to the eye doctor and  meeting at my friend Elise’s Advent church.

Important to accept good things. the Labor Assistance Professionals group is an organization of people doing work with union people with primarily drug and alcohol issues. They gave one of their two annual awards to West-Park for our support of working people and working to heal the brokenness. And of our support for the 99%.

Speaking to the LAP group

Refreshing to be at a meeting of people with jackets and ties who are committed to labor, to progressive ideals and who actually supported out work with #OWS. And who start their meeting with the pledge to the flag. And I did the invocation. 

Teddy’s father was one of the cofounders. And he thanked us for saving his son. Tearing up at his memory. And I of course still miss him. His union, the Steamfitters, there in force. A good union, says Tina. She reminds me it was ten months since he died. Feels like longer. And also like he’s just around the corner. 

Late in the afternoon, RL comes by and invites me up to the studio. His friend Luba Dvorak (yes that one,yes he is...) is visiting. Just back from his west coast tour. They play for and with each other. Years ago Luba produced RL’s CD. The music is free and loose. And totally connected to each other intuitively.  Luba’s fingers smooth and easy on the strings. His music edging more country than I remember back in the P&G days. The finish with RL’s Pinto, Luba’s San Diego song and of course, Stay Awhile. The San Diego song has what RL calls Luba’s best line: I feel like a Bible salesman in a stolen suit. (http://www.lubadvorak.com/home.html)

Lindsey and Brett back for one last session. Tonight we talk about how do they fight. And the difference between forgiveness, the letting go, the giving up for all time the hope for s different past; and reconciliation, the engaged process of reconstructing a relationship. How I wish sometimes I could go back and start over. But you can’t.

A woman comes in. Asks if this is a catholic church. Answer: no.

Before the night is over, I’ll have another challenging couples’ counseling session. It’s emotional;y draining when you really allow yourself feel the complex dynamics of another relationship. And important to know your  own boundaries. 

There’s some commotion outside. There’s large shopping carts overflowing with bags of cans and bottles blocking the sidewalk. I shrug and say, What’s up with this? And the angry man gets up in my face. Doesn’t like the way I asked the question. I should have asked it different. I didn’t show respect. You should have said, excuse me sir, can you please move this? 

Doesn’t matter.You can’t block the road.

It’s not the road, it’s the sidewalk.

You’re parsing words. Still can’t block it.

And then he goes off, eyes blazing, breathing heavy.Doing the whole you don’t know what it’s like to be homeless, not everyone's same, not everyone is so lucky, you have a warm bed...I’m waiting for isn’t this a church?

On the one hand, trying to guilt me here won’t work. This gang is hard. Younger. Tougher looking. Almost intimidating. Don’t give me the homeless guilt trip. On the other hand, I am losing my patience. Very tired. Need to not give in to cynicism.

Facing tough choices

7/29

Deacon James and I run int each other at the coffee wagon parked on 86th. Each our own breakfast.

Rudolfo again. That same sad face. Woman troubles again. Tiene un Red Bull? he asks, Quiero tomar Red Bull...So we find him a Red Bull and he slowly walks off.

RL walks in. There’s been a surprise. His crew went up into the attic, accessible only by ladder. And found a former resident hiding out back in the shadows, under the eaves. Apparently all three jumped at least six feet. There were also more graphic descriptions. 

Danielle goes upstairs to bring the stowaway down. I was just checking out some things and they jumped in on me. Happened on me. Surprised me. That’s all. Just checking out some things, he says.

I look at him. Silent.

I’m taking short term jobs off Craig’s list. Looking for  full time job again. Can you just give me one more week?

No. I can’t do that. Here is the address of BRC. Here is the number of the man who’s been working with us. You’ve got to go check this out. You can’t be here.  I know it's tough choices, but...

OK, I understand. Danielle and I look at each other. Nothing else to do. Feel the sadness. At some point....

Keith comes in. Later this week, he’s due to go to Rochester. To the VA hospital. For a treatment. Where’s Rochester? he asks. I pull up  a map and show him. They say it’s in the country. Are there horses? I can hear the anxiety in his voice. How far away is it? Danielle looks up from her computer. About 5 hours 12 minutes.

That’s a long ride, he says. I don't know...

I know Keith. . Relax, enjoy it. When you know the name of the hospital, let me know. I have a friend there I can let know. Ask to visit him. 

I’ll be gone a week. He says. I don’t know. I been to Iraq. I don't know...this is different. We talk. I try and reduce the anxiety. But how can I? Tough choices. Another person facing tough choices.

RL comes in. Keith says, I like the hat. RL tips his cowboy hat, says, Thing about this hat is, all the moving parts work except for what's underneath... RL has given Danielle two of his prized writings, Idleness leads to vice...a children's story (well kind of, a fable) and a multi-chapter short story, the Company Man...

Need a break. Go up to visit RL. Poet Tim came in earlier. Went up to wait for him. Dvorak’s New World Symphony is playing. From his time in New York. Roger is with them. Tim is trying to make the connection between Antonin and Luba, who produced RL’s first CD. Luba an artist on his own. And a direct descendant of that Dvorak. 

The Dvorak House, 327 East 17th Street 

I explain the statue that the Czechs donated. How the New York Philharmonic stashed it on the roof. When they renamed a part of East 17th Street for Dvorak, the city paid to have his statue moved to across the street from where where he lived. Dvorak Way, they call it. He like so many others, had become one of us, a New Yorker. 

Roger in the Tenant

We talk with Roger. He had played Michel, a war damaged waiter in the Tenant






( http://west-parkpress.blogspot.com/2011/08/new-york-times-writes-about-woodshed.html)  two years ago. He’s been downstairs to take pictures of where his old apartment in the play used to be. Now a garbage storage area. He had a cot there. A helmet. A cross. At the beginning of the play he was in his lair, lying on his cot, thumbing through the Bible. He’s glad to be back here at West-Park. He is starring in Matt and Stan’s play. He’s got over an hour before rehearsal time. RL promises to play for him some  Dusty Withers Episodes next time around. It's good to have Roger back in the house.

Outside Geoffrey is on the steps. I didn’t recognize him at first. No more prophet’s robes. He’s wearing jeans and a polo shirt. No African straw hat. A close cropped hair cut. And most surpising, there’s something else. Geoffrey, I say, there’s something different. 

I have taken a good shave  for myself, he says. And indeed he is clean shaven. Clothed. And in his  right mind. And shaved, you might say.

Tonight the steps are empty.