Living in coronavirusworld 243: Vaccinated

 

1/21

The Armory staging area

at the armory

vaccinated

I won’t believe I am actually getting my vaccination until I  get there and it happens. It seemed so random when the appointment opened up. I get up very early to get to the site by 7:45 AM. I arrive at the 168th Street Armory, one of the premier indoor track and field facilities in the country, to find it has been converted into a massive vaccination operation. A team of volunteers makes every step easy. They’ve all been clearly trained to be warm, friendly and welcoming to relieve any anxieties there may be about the vaccine. I look at the banners of various schools  compete here, the banked track, remember seeing my son compete here years ago.  And just like that, after three stations, I get my shot and then sit to wait for my next appointment that you use have before leaving. As other friends my age have not been able to get in and an older couple has had  their appointment canceled because they have “run out,” I feel lucky.  The lack of coordinated comprehensive planning continues to make gaining control over this virus an uphill struggle even as more virulent strains are emerging.

By midday, my arm is stiff and sore. And by nightfall, I am shivering with chills and a sick headache that hurts when I cough, Nothing to do but go to bed….

1/22

….where I stay until after noon the next day. By late afternoon, I feel tired and weak but still meet a friend for an outdoor dinner at the Gate. And even though I called hours in advance, we still can’t  get a heated table. I order chicken pot pie as comfort food and in an hour, we’re gone. Back home, bed still looks like  where I want to be , but there’s open mic hosting in between . 

1/23

whose was this?

blue jay

It’s cold farmer’s market today. ….a stranded child's play castle....and later a walk with family through Harlem…in Morningside Park, I see a blue jay....

1/24

Ozone Park Churc

Up early to travel to Ozone Park where the congregation wants to thank me for my service with them. Somehow, they are managing to worship live and in person. It’s a long ride to Ozone Park and then a long cold walk from the subway to the church. When I arrive, it’s so hard to see with my glasses steamed over. But what I do see is moving. Somehow, well with the assistance of a skilled administrative commission, the church has moved forward during the pandemic. A new renter had brought in enough income (and volunteer work) to have the place shining clean. The basement has been thoroughly emptied of old stored items and feels open and clean. Most importantly, the cage that had bene installed around the organ, something I’d never seen before, has bene removed. It was to me clearly a symbol of anxiety, for and mistrust of others, a closed in protective spirit. The cage is gone. And I can feel a renewed spirit of openness in the congregation. The division I felt before is not visible.  There are even  a few children in Sunday school.  And a feeling of hope. They have worked hard for this. Of course, the two old stalwarts of the congregation died of covid. But others have stepped up and taken on tasks they would not have before. It’s a unique congregation with many of its members from the South Asian Indian community of the West Indies. They give me a stole as a gift, of Guatemalan cloth. Fitting because of my work there. It has warmed my heart on a cold day to see that a congregation has actually moved forward during the pandemic. 

iving in coronavirusworld 208: Bars and churches....

 

11/14

yes there is....

and we voted...

Going to the framer’s market, it’s hard to believe it was just a week ago the announcement can that Biden was declared president. A weekly visit here one more marker I’ve created to give structure to the week. And something about food right from the farms that is comforting. 

I spend the afternoon trying to learn new songs for the (now_) open mic at Bar 9. The summer show case is over. Much as I dislike it, I’m taking the directive tofocus on upbeat covers seriously.  And actually enjoying it. Learning a Rubber Soul era Beatles  song and discovering many of these songs are more complex than meets the eye.

In the gathering darkness, I meet my friend Beppe with craft spirits from the farmers’ market. It’s getting colder.  We’re beginning to wonder how we are going handle these outdoor meetings now that the virus is spiking again. Beppe and I share the same feeling. That  March feels like yesterday and last week a year ago.  He too had been pulled out into the streets by the surging wave of joyous people as the news spread. We know we are close to it being over. But thousands of Trump supporters rallied in DC today.  Including Qanons and Proud Boys and who knows who else. And I realize although it’s not objectively true, in Trunpland’s alternate universe it's Black Lives Matter and Antifa striking fear in the hearts of the faithful.  And we continue to be anxious about what happens next.

We the Whole People

Time Square vendor

Times Square

I join my classical music friends for a concert in a rehearsal studio, safely distanced of course. A concert with the timely theme of We the Whole People. (Inspired by a quote from Susan B Anthony: It was we, the people; not we, the white male citizens; nor yet we, the male citizens; but we, the whole people, who formed the Union. )And only 10 live audience members. To get the subway home, I walk through Times Square, again amazed at how full of life it is…without tourists …apart from the ‘B&T (bridge and tunnel) visitors from the outer boros and Jersey.  City people have made this their own playground. Young women striking sexy poses for their boyfriends with the Times Square lights behind them. 

11/15

in my neighborhood

My Sunday morning routine…when I wake early enough…is a Sunday Times and coffee and a pastry at the Venezuelan Monkey Cup cafe. Early morning. 

My friend Run leads West Park’s virtual service. Moved that he uses my song”Listen” from my new release. (

                                                                     Listen

 He takes the story of the talents and servant in a different direction than we went last Monday in Bible Study. His focus is more on the side of risks we need to take for the sake of the kingdom. And not hiding what you’ve got. It’a small but good group.

My son in Berlin is frustrated by the German spike and its impact on his students.  They had worked for weeks preparing for a concert performance. Families would be allowed to come.  But that was canceled and only live streaming allowed.  He wonders at the logic of it. These students are much less likely to get sick. Why are commercial stores allowed to remain open? And school events canceled? What is essential about headphones or North Face jackets or lamps? Choices. Not always data driven. 

At Stony Point, New York, a tea is being held to honor Rick and Kitty Ufford-Chase, co-directors.  As I watch on ZOOM, I can feel the coolness of the air 40 miles up the Hudson from the city.. That deep fall feel under overcast skies. I can almost taste it as I watch it, having been there. Eleven yeast of creative, groundbreaking ministry brought to a halt by Covid 19.  (And a limited institutional creativity…as I’ve said  vision  and institution are incompatible realties…) The air is heavy with sadness. And yes, for sure, thanksgiving. And even hope.  But what we have loved is gone. As the camera zooms around the circle, I catch sights of places that have meant so much to me. Locked down.  I count the groups I’ve been here with:

the Interfaith Assembly on Homelessness and Housing 

The Interfaith Center of New York City Marshall Meyer social justice retreats

the International Sanctuary Declaration project took shape and form here

My own congregation, West Park

The Presbyterian Church USA Central American Task Force initial meeting

Presbyteiran Health Eucation and Welfare Association

That all May Freely Serve’s gathering of 4 decades of friends engaged in the struggle for full inclusion of lgbtq people in the church, to make sure the history was preserved

My friend Zeljko bringing his film about the Serbian Colonel who shot down an American stealth fighter pilot…and both pilots …to speak to a national women’s group..

                                                          Second meeting

I mean I wrote my doctoral dissertation here….many of the meetings were to reimagine and envision a ministry, often with Rick’s help…Rick and Kitty are of course gracious…but as the testimonies die down, the pain cuts really deep.  Much grief here.

I try my new song out at Bar 9. The whole night goes fast because they’ve now declared bars must close by 10. I mean we’re done playing by 8:30. As I play, I keep thinking about watching the Linda Ronstadt movie last night. Realizing her value as perhaps the greatest interpreter of American music of all kinds. And ho when you do it well, the song becomes yours. 

As we finish, the wind picks up, the rain comes down in torrents. My friend texts me: tornado warning! We meet at the Gate anyways as it all dies down. The more we talk about it, the more the 10’oclock rule appears to be a cosmetic compromise gesture with no scientific data informing it. Bars and churches, struggling to hold on.

Living in coronavirusworld 175: So much evil in the world

 9/24

Black lives matter 5K

For the second day in a row, drama on 115th street. Again, the sounds of commotion through my window. I go outside to see a city garbage truck stopped. There’s a large bag on the street in back of the truck. The bag is moving. And a pool of blood growing. A circle of neighbors watching. My neighbor who spends her days sitting outside, watching, one of those, as Jane Jacobs puts it, eyes on the street, is staring. I ask her what’s up. Turns out someone had put their dog in a garbage bag. When the workers hit the compactor function, and heard pained sounds, they realized there was something moving  in the bag, The semicrushed dog was still alive. They removed the bag and lay it in the street. 911 was called. The animal ambulance is on the way. My neighbor is starting to tear up.  I just can’t believe it she says. How could  anybody be that cruel? So sad.That poor dog. Dying a slow death. So sad. The ambulance arrives, the dog gently, lifted up, put in the back. Lights flashing, the ambulance  takes off. Accompanied  by a two police car escort with flashing lights and sirens. My neighbor says, There is so much evil in the world these days. So much evil. Thank God there are still people with good hearts…so sad..so much evil…I watch the police cars clearing the way for  the ambulance. I want to believe they would do the same for my neighbor. I hope he makes it, but I don’t know...I just don’t know…she’s says.

Hari Krishna

I do the Black Lives Matter (virtual) 5k down the west side of the park. At least two jazz ensembles out on this beautiful day. 

Jazz in the park

And at the circle, I see the Hari Krishna people are back. Sigh, I have not missed them,

I stop at the Gate on my way home. A TV news reporter is interviewing co-owner Siobhan about the struggles of trying to survive the covid crisis. Limited capacity (25%) occupancy can begin next week, But no bar. With 12 tables ,that means only 3 available. The city just announced that outdoor dining can continue through the winter. Siobhan is not sure they can afford the tents. It’s a tough go for sure.

                                                                  at the Gate

 I tell my dog story to my old friend RL. He thinks a minute, You know, someone’s poor. Got a sick dog.Can’t afford ASPCA. Don’t know what to do…maybe they’re not cruel, just overwhelmed. I think about this But am still haunted by the dog.

Less than 24 hours after our meeting to organize support for the residents of the Lucerne the Mayor announces once again he is moving them out, This time to a downtown Radisson. A neighborhood vigil is being organized.

I head home to watch my actor  friend in an online benefit for Emily’s List, for the support of  women candidates. There will be  ZOOM plays and a spoken word artist, And of course I will end the night with our open mic. 

Thank God there are still people with good hearts…so sad..so much evil…

Living in coronavirusworld 169: Like time out of joint

 

9/16

.....and still matter....

Pittsburgh

In recognition  of the opening of the NFL season, I wear a hat from my hometown Pittsburgh Steelers but the shirt I wear was a design created after the Tree of Life shooting in a Pittsburgh synagogue, killing 18, in 2018. ( I’m still somewhat annoyed that local congregation Romemu has used it as  part of their branding. Something about it to me  is just not appropriationable.)

Romemu sign

I like that all but one Steeler had  the name of Antwon Rose, Jr., a Pittsburgh  teenage victim of police shooting, on the backs of their helmets. But anything the NFL does related to justice without Colin Kaepernick  remains hollow. 

We are discussing a  New Yorker  article on Christianity’s White Supremacy Problem by Michael  Luo. We  remain curious as to the evangelicals’ continued support for Trump.  It seems to be about power. Facing the reality that whites will soon be in the minority in this country. That Charlottesville chant: “You will not replace us.”  The article begins by recounting how Fredrick Douglass thought his owner would act better after his conversion..  In fact, he became harder in his ways, feeling theologically justified.  We continue to love with that legacy.

Joel recalls the infamous obedience experiment where participants are commanded to inflict pain on a subject. How quickly most agree. 

Denial keeps white privilege in place.

We also speak of tribalism and identity....Again. We asked ourselves how important is our identity as being Christian?  As a way in, a way to, or a way through?

Steve P  divides people into mature and not mature as to their understanding of their place in the world, openness to others.

I remember a book a family friend recommended to me one time. A novel called “The Scheme of things.”  The premise is that there is the way things are (the ultimate truth, which we can never fully know) and the scheme of things, the framework we choose to organize our life, be it Christianity or Marxism or “the market” or…We all choose a "scheme." The problem comes when we mistake our chosen scheme for the way things are. 

Addiction (in the broadest sense) leads to calcification leads to idolatry. 

The Malik EL Shabazz African market is open again...

Market is open

My friends open another season of their Glooey Zoomy Show creating a community of artistic exploration (and even whimsy) in the midst of pandemic. Which, sadly, continues. 

9/17

Ralph Ellison, The Invisible Man

Yankee protest

My 5K today takes me though Harlem into the South Bronx. Along the way, I pass memorial to Ralph Ellison, author of the iconic novel Invisible Man.  I arrive at Yankee Stadium too late to see the protest from earlier in the day with neighbors demanding the Yankees pay a fair share, while so may small businesses that are codependent on the Yankees…bars, restaurants, apparel and memorabilia stores, etc .....are going bankrupt in the pandemic. 

Speaking of time....

I meet my friend Beppe at the Gate for my personal celebration of Halfway to St.Patrick’s day. That was the day everything shut down leaving bar windows in an eerie state of decorated suspended animation. The uncelebrated St.Patrick’s Day decorations stayed up for weeks, if not months, leaving a definite post-apocalyptic vibe. It has been six months. So I order my Jameson’s on the rocks and a Guinness.  We reflect on six months. Beppe talks abut the feeling of being unmoored. Of time feeling out of joint. Was it truly summer? The last six months like one long extended Covid season. Other than cooler air, what will be fall? One day flows into the next and it all kind of mushes together. It’s 8:30. Still around 70’ out. I am savoring the Guinness. 

Living in coronavirusworld 113: Shabbat Shalom

7/16

Shabbat Shalom

window at the Gate

Spend most of the day organizing my August 6th ZOOM concert commemorating the 25th anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s death. And continued work on the Presbyterian Church’s response to historic and continued white privilege. I make my way to visit my friend Paul at his pub, the St.James Gate, doing rehab work to get the place ready for reopening, when that comes, and scrambling to find a way to serve up to 30 people outdoors, constricted by a bus stop and adjacent businesses. Part of what he’s got to  do is return all the kegs of Guiness that he bought for a St. Patrick’s night that never happened. Staying alive has been a real challenge for the bar and restaurant businesses. And a lot depends on the randomness of where you are on a block. I share an “unofficial” Jameson’s as I “consult” with RL in his permanent barstool. 

Mr. Met welcomes you

I decide to walk the 2.5 miles home, checking out the various stages of opening. And the appearance of Mr. Met at the Red Lion Tavern. 

Tonight I get to visit the Oregon Shakespeare Festival from Ashland, Oregon, a festival I always wanted to visit. Tonight I see their production of “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”  I’m impressed by their commitment to inclusion. I continue my coronavirusworld culture tour. 

7/17

Another day of working and walking.  My friend Jane LeCroy drops her new album, Add Vice, with her band the Icebergs, reminding me of Patty Smith, Velvet Underground, Cowboy Junkies and more…(https://album.link/qw0hccffw3450).   

The mayor of Portland has told the President to get his troops out of Portland. Reports of plainclothes soldiers dragging people away blocks distant from demonstrations. There’s a strong sense that the President is trying to provoke a confrontation he can boldly put down and look like a hero. Portland wants no part of this agenda.

Sidewalk art reminds me it's Friday night. My friend Rabbi Steve will be singing songs to sustain people then lead his Shabbat service. We all need that sense of shabbat, 24 hours of peace, if only once a week. Shabbat Shalom chaverim.

I host the West Park ope mic, gathering  the community once more from Baltimore to New York City to Chicago. We share our songs and our conversations, haven lived another week. I ix my own with a little Garcia and Hunter.Day to day, week to week. We will get by. We will survive. 

Sweet. Concordant. Strings

12/6

Bob Brashear ands Shakespeare ladies Milica Paranosic and Margaret Lnacaster

Steady rain. Stop into the Gate. Pick up a full large pan of Paul’s special shepherd’s pie and cab back to the church for Milica’s Composers’ Concordance concert, Sweet Concordant Strings. Music inspired by Shakespeare on the  450^th anniversary of his birth.

A good house is growing.

Early on, there’s a steady stream of confused folks looking for Stephanie Johnstone’s performance piece in the upstairs gym. Such is West-Park.

It’s a true exposition of the wonderful diversity of what comcon is.

We hear:

1.     The electronic tape of Luening’s sound cues from Orson Wells’ King  Lear.

2.     Joseph Pehrson’s Tempest Fanfare.

3.     Dan Cooper’s Little Water Drops inspired by and dedicated to soprano Eleanor Taylor from the Rape of Lucrece.

4.     The passionate Seguiryas, rooted in flamenco blacksmith music, inspired by a passage of Julius Caesar. Dave Soldier’s composition, Thomas Bo’s interpretation. Singer. Guitar. Cajon. Orchestra.

5.     Back to Julius Caesar again. Dan Cooper’s quirky Ides of march, dedicated to his teacher and mentor, Edward H. Simpson.

6.     Franz Hackl’s expressive trumpet brings to life Gene Pritsker’s wordless expression of two sonnets. After which, who needs words? The trumpet said all there was to say..Except…only when you’ve heard Pritsker rap or his electronic beats or the all in bombast of his take on Brahms’ first can you fully appreciate the simple romantic melancholy of his piece like this with its piercing trumpet vocalization.

7.     Now from the magical Midsummer Night’s Dream, we get Dan Cooper’s Lullaby, from the catalogue of incidental music he produced for Tina Packer’s Berkshires institution Shakespeare and Company at the Mount. Cooper’s Lullaby shimmers and dances like fairies in the liminal space between day and night.

8.     David Gotay’s Nostalgia teases us with a tango while allowing the strings to milk the longing from Sonnet 30.

9.     Milica Paranosic and Margaret Lancaster are an intrepid dynamic duo. They push each other to new places. Daring. Dramatic. Scary. Their Lady M follows Ms. Macbeth through her offstage Act 3. The cumulative effect of her actions finally breaks her. And Margaret walks the tight rope between classical flutist and performance artist. Shatters the night with her scream. Rubs her hands that can never be clean again. And  finally snuffs out the candle. Leaving us in a hopeless darkness. These women are dangerous.

10. The night concludes with Karen Hakobyan’s Blow, blow thou winter winds with its appropriation of Armenian scale system woven throughout its language. And no, I can’t explain what I just said.

I can say that it’s an honor, but more  a pleasure, to welcome the comcon family to the petri dish, incubator and performance space that is West-Park where artists dare to push, expand and obliterate boundaries. The audience includes family, friends, new music professional peers and the occasional quasi-stalker fans that appear as if conjured from Shakespeare’s more fevered imagination. The shepherd’s pie and wine disappear fast.

The shepherd's pie will disappear soon.....

The after party will move on to the Gate where Irish pub manager and patron of the arts Paul will welcome all and West-Park’s resident radio cowboy character and shaman RL will charm Shakespeare’s ladies.

Sweet. Concordant. Strings.