Living in Coronaviriusworld 226: Happy Hanukah

12/10

Mt.Zion Baptist Church Harlem

First day of Hannukah. Soon most of the day catching up with what I couldn’t get done yesterday. Meet my friend Rabbi Steve at the Double Dutch Coffee Shop. The weather has warmed up so we can sit outside. We get closer and closer to a transition in national leadership but the continued efforts of the President to overturn the results plus the continued support he receives from Republican elected officials gives one pause. Especially given the militant …and armed…support of his followers. Election officials in swing states have found themselves threatened. And millions of people will continue to believe the election was actually rigged somehow. Even the President’s superspreader Hanukah parties become opportunities to insist he is still the legitimate President. And we now begin to reap the Covid harvest sewn by all those who insisted on traveling and celebrating a “normal” Thanksgiving.  There does seem to be real hope, however that vaccine distribution is imminent. 

little plastic eating houses

more creative solutions

Little mini plastic  houses continue to sprout all over Harlem. It’s like someone got an exclusive contract for the neighborhood. Big enough for one table only. Others create their own winter shelters.It remains to be seen how this will all work out. 

As I walk, I see more and more businesses permanently shuttered. While congress remains deadlocked for a solution. I’m concerned because my neighborhood pub, Bean and Barley has bene coxed for three days. That can’t be good. 

I consider traveling to Brooklyn to perform outside…"we’ve got heaters!”…but the hour plus subway ride is more than I want. 

As the day comes to an end, I realize I have had completely ZOOMless day. A much needed break.

12/11

Another  day catching up. 

Chanukah shabbat

Late in the afternoon, I stop to meet friends at the Gate. RL, who has been homebound, is actually dancing...without his cane, as he is amazed to discover. My friends and I sit outside, enjoying the mild weather. So comfortable for December.  We spend sometime hanging out with friends indoors. Almost normal, says my friend, except for no one allowed  at the bar. All decorated up for Christmas. Last chance to enjoy the space before the indoor dining ban clams down again. Sigh.

Open Mic is slow to start due to uncooperative tech issues and that accursed spinning beach ball of death waiting for something to happen. The early part of our evening taken up with our friend Mark who died last week. Another Covid victim of societal negligence. Been trying to find where his music might be because it deserves to be heard. Despite his skills as writer and a singer, he’s left a small footprint on the platforms. Always close to making it. But not quite. I learn more and more about that all the time. How common that is.  How many good people right on the periphery. While we are singing our songs, the new breaks that the Supreme Court has summarily rejected what the President had called “the big one” that was going to set aside the lector results. 

This year we need those Hannukah lights shining through the darkness. W need to cleanse our temple and restore what has been most important to us. Our democracy, flawed as it is, needs restoration.

Monday comes the electoral college. A step at a time.

Living in coronavirusworld 222: Enough

12/4

December night

A cold and wet day. Unpleasant to be out.

When my friend and I meet, we find our favorite place, the Gate, has reached its capacity. So we sit in the outside. Somewhat amazed that it’s December and we’re still outside. An hour is enough as the cold begins to sink in. 

At our virtual Open Mic, I discover I have lost another friend. Here I what I posted on Facebook:

OK. So tonight I just learned of the death of another friend. Another Yalie of my era. Another musician. My age. A weekly participant in our open mic. We hosted each other in shows at the late lamented Sidewalk Cafe. He hosted the Yale (virtual) Cabaret and invited me on. I've now lost 3 friends in 3 weeks. Enough. And still Pompeo invites 900 to a holiday party. And the New York City Young Republicans host 300 to a party. It's not about you, idiots, you are killing US. And you don't even care. Just get them out. Get them out. I'm tired of mourning...

It really is enough. As we enter into what will be a difficult winter, the politicization of pandemic response is obscene lunacy.  To me it is incomprehensible.  And still we die.

Living in coronavirusworld 218: ....and two brief reflections on the President

Thanksgiving weekend

11/27

Today my mother learned about ZOOM.  Her assisted care facility set her up for a family conversation. She got dressed up for the occasion. And we gathered from Ohio and Jersey suburbs and Harlem. They were generous with us and we got more than a half hour. She was amazed at how she could see us and our inside our homes all at the same time. And now is not completely mystified when we tell her about the next ZOOM event in our lives. And how we spend 80% of our time on ZOOM. It’s always sad when our time ends but actually seeing us helped.

along the Meer

the Meer Tree

in front of Lasker

I take today’s long walk through Central Park. Notice that the Lasker Rink, closed all summer was a swimming pool, is now open as an ice skating rink. 

It’s a good fall day. 

Reflection

If I didn’t hate the man so much, and that’s not a word I use loosely or often, I could almost feel pity for him. I watched him as he “pardoned “ the Thanksgiving turkey before setting it free. One of those annual ceremonials all Presidents do. The kind of event he really seems to warm to with all its retro TV ethos. But this year he seems distracted ,distant, Melancholy. Seemed to look at the turkey with envy. I look at this man who has been responsible for so much damage to so many things who has been camped out permanently inside our heads dominating our thoughts and conversations  for four years and he looks small, pathetic, and even frightened. I could almost feel pity. Almost.

11/28

Dion leads today’s ZOOM worship for West Park and our Open Mic friend Tony Charms (Jose Perez) shares his music. Dion focuses on the first Advent theme, hope. Even using my favorite Jim Wallis quote…hope is believing in spite of the evidence and working to make the evidence change. And he has me play a song to finish the service, and  play my Rest Awhile. 

                                                       Rest Awhile 

After attending Mike Geffner’s Marketing Workshop I join my family’s weekly ZOOM. As usual, chaos in the school schedule of In/out, blended/hybrid, new decisions every day leave teachers in chaos. In the middle of our conversation, I get the news that my friend Dan in Pittsburgh has just died. Of Covid. 32 day from diagnosis to death. I am profoundly sad. And angry.

I posted this message on Facebook:

Today I am mourning the loss of someone I cared about, who was important to me.  A good father, grandfather, music partner and good man.  A friend. There is much for which I fault our current President.  But this, creating an atmosphere where pubic health and common sense became politicized, where ignoring the most rudimentary precautions became a perverse badge of honor and thousands  upon thousands of my fellow citizens have died, and will continue to die for ideology and partisan politics, this above all is unforgivable.

As our family gathering ends, I realize I have been on ZOOM for six straight hours and feel done in.

Gene and Dan introduce his piece

Mark talks about his piece

My friends from the Composers Concordance have one last live concert, in the East Village. After tonight, with the spike and new restrictions, it’s back to virtual. Still, New York City’s infection/death rate remain low compared to the rest of the nation and even Germany. My son still thinks that so many people died last spring that we’ve reached that state…we’ll see.

Living in Coronavirusworls 202: Suspended animation

 11/5

Morningside

Finding it harder an harder to go about my daily life. Take care of business. Constantly  checking the phone.  To check vote counts. Some have Arizona for Biden putting him within six electoral votes. Others keep him at 253. The waiting makes you crazy.

well, a little color

Take a long walk though the park, looking for color. It feels cool as darkness falls.

Finish the day in Mike Geffner’s “Inspired Word” Open Mic. Play a hopeful song, “Everything’s Going to be OK” and my “Open Mic Lament” or “Read the Room” song. Mike impressed that I wrote it. Good to hear from this impresario of the city’s Open Mics. 

                                                      "Everything's Going to be Okay"

I accept an invitation to play an extended gig at my neighborhood club. I put out a call to my band to see if anyone can join me and find that most of my bandmates are not ready to play in an indoor basement club. I get that. Still, an hour and a half is heavy lifting. I haven’t had more than a 30 minute set since March.

On the tonight show, Jimmy Fallon says it’s like waking up with a hangover and discovering you’re still in the bar. 

Who can sleep?

11/6

The sense of suspended animation continues. 

Spend most of the day working on my cd.  My spirits are lifted when I hear that a “preview” for Spotify has just gone live..something else to think about, feel good about…(https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/robertbrashear/robert-brashear-songs-vol2-2020 )

The count stays steady where it is. Biden now has taken the lead in both Pennsylvania and Georgia.  Either one and he’s in. 

As I walk, I worry about my mom in her rehab facility, my cousin with lung cancer, my cousin with breast cancer, my daughter in law’s father with liver cancer and my fried with Covid in the ICU.and now I hear my brother fell and is in the emergency room with broken humerus, Its enough already.  I work at trying to believe Biden may actually win. 

Silvana

My lead guitar player Mike changes his mind and decides to come join me at Silvana. I’m anxious about playing but happy for the diversion. We sit outside while the sound guy sets up. Because, of course, it’s outside. There are all of four people in the audience, but it’s a good chance to work through some stuff. Feels a bit eerie. Mike stays the whole show, which really helps. 

Virtual open mic

I’m no too for hosting an open mic but it turns out to be the best in months. My young stand up comic friend shows up. It’s good to be together. Watch a new series about radical abolitionist John Brown and too much CNN hoping for conclusion before finally heading to bed.

Tomorrow maybe? 

Living in coronavirusworld 184: We will get by, we will survive

 

10/8

Stony Point

My friend and colleague Linda Eastwood tonight is awarded the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship’s Barstow-Driver Award at a virtual dinner for her witness for non-violent social action. With more degrees than I can imagine. Linda has been a scientist, a theologian, an educator and an activist. She was one of the early pioneers in “Accompaniment” witness in Colombia walking with people through dangerous times. She later became the lead organizer for that work. Just retired from teaching at McCormick Seminary, she has travelled throughout the world on her journey. I came to know her as we travelled together last fall through Central America to learn why so many people felt they could no longer simply live safely in their home countries and came to join the refugee flow north. Her quiet courage and  clear thoughts and soft spoken but incisive words show what a faithful life can look like, It has been an honor to know and work together with her in our yet incomplete project, both in the immediate Central American work and in the larger project that is a neverending call. Even virtually, it was good for us all to be together. 

10/9

The word about Stony Point has now become official. The entire staff has bene let go, including my friend Rick Ufford-Chase, by the end of November. An amazing multi-faceted witness comes to an end. Education, worship, agriculture, community organizing, refugee defense work, sanctuary, spirituality and social action not just talked about or proclaimed but lived on a daily basis. It is heart breaking. A place that has been so important to me, where I wrote my doctoral dissertation, where meetings with my congregation, PHEWA, International Sanctuary Work Group, Interfaith Center, Interfaith Assembly  and so much more happened over the years will not be what it has been to me. Another location of my life landscape taken away. Rick and his wife Kitty are a strong team. They will go on.  Sadly, I don’t think the church understands what it has lost. Institution and vision seem incompatible with each other.

Rick, in his typical way of grace, does not blame an institution with difficult decisions to make for the outcome. He does, however blame  a national administration  the still has no coherent plan to deal with the virus. Covid claims another victim.

My housemate tells me that his younger sister, with some preexisting conditions, died this morning of Covid related cause. He will leave Monday for Mississippi. In case anyone may have forgotten, we are still dying. Meanwhile, the President, still infected, stages a dramatic return to the White House and with stage lighting and pompous music ascends to the balcony and removes his mask. It just doesn’t  stop.

Sometimes I just don’t want to do open mic. Enough. But there’s Mark, who’s produced some of the best in the business. Who was at Yale a few years before me. Who writes memorable music with good hooks. With dialysis three times week. There are folks who come after meetings. People who have come out on the other side of all kinds of things. Sharing music helps us all get through. So I keep coming back to do this, week after week. We will get by, we will survive. 

Living in coronavirusworld: 9/11/20

 9/11

US Open remembererd

9/11.  The day changed my life. And my understanding of my place in the world. My understanding of creation as resistance. It gave us, for a moment, in our woundedness, a chance to understand what so much of the world has lived and continues to live through. To feel  our connection with the rest of humanity. We chose instead to invade Iraq and start wars that have yet to end. This global pandemic, that has touched and continues to touch all humanity has given us another chance.  What we do with it remains to be seen.

There are no more free buses. 

There will be a $30 fine for anyone not wearing a mask on the bus or subway.

On our walk there are exercise classes in the park.  And a table of old people playing mahjong. 

Domino players on street corners. 

I watch someone filling the neighborhood fridge with prepared meals and fresh produce.

I go to Trinity Lutheran to see my friend Pastor Heidi and pick up a copy of her new book, Sanctuary: Being Christian in the Wake of Trump for review. 

This weeks 5K is Will Run for Coffee.  I do the West Drive of Central Park to Columbus Circle again. A woman folk singer and cajon player. A jazz ensemble in the gazebo by the lake.

Music by the lake

Make my way to the Gate to sit with RL and Joe and Dion. The sun, the coolness of the late afternoon, feels good. Even warm, peaceful. 

Technical issues with ZOOM delay the  start of the Open  Mic. I feel so frustrated, I’m almost ready to pack it in and I’m supposed to  be the host. But we all hang in and make it. And we do make it, as we choose to make our time together every Friday night, a commitment each other, a way to get by, a way to survive. 

In 2001, 9/11 stopped the  US Open for a day or so. The next year, they had a commemorative hat. The Mets wore NYPD and FDNY and other first responder hats in their games. Police were just heroes. Then.  After years of  not allowing it, Major League Baseball permitted both Mets and Yankees to wear first responder hats  in games this year.  Nineteen years have gone by. It is still with us. 

Living in conavirusworld 158: Let us have peace

9/4

Let us have peace (Grant's Tomb)

Gate 6 

encouraging words

Todays 5K “race” is the New York Yankees’ “Virtual United 5K.”  Starting line is Gate 6 Yankee Stadium. My first time back in the Bronx in coronavirustime. (Four down, Staten Island to go.)  I haven’t been to Yankee Stadium since September 20 of 2019. All those games I would have gone to, gone. I want to see if the onsite Hard Rock Cafe is open. I had imagined them with outdoor dining with all that open space. A way to keep people close, even in coronavirustime. But it’s fenced off to keep people far away. Much of the Stadium feeling locked up  and foreboding. At least there are encouraging words on the marquee. 

Yankee Stadium marquee

The string of bars and tea gear shops along River Avenue all locked up. I head over the Macomb’s Avenue Bridge into Harlem and keep moving down Riverside to my finish at Grant’s Tomb. 

Grant's Tomb

The toppling of a Great statue by overzealous protestors in San Francisco has led to a renewed interest in Grant.  Turns out he was pretty decent guy. Came into ownership of a slave through his wife. Could never be comfortable to give him an order and at a time when he had no money came up with a $1000 to free the enslaved person and send him on his way into freedom. He was a damn good General. Called Robert E. Lee a traitor, not a hero. Defeated the Confederate army. Pursued a real   Reconstruction and  sought to completely eliminate the Ku Klux Klan. Good to see his resting place  in good shape.  And home in New York City.  "Let us have peace" says the inscription over the entrance to the tomb. Please. 

late afternoon jazz

I pause to listen to a jazz ensemble playing late afternoon music,  being warmly received. I pass 475 Riverside, the Interchurch Center, the God Box, and take a look at the apartment building I used to live at in 1982-83, My first sojourn here. 

welcome students

Columbia U is welcoming new students who will or will not have live classes and most certainly remote ones in the strangest of school years. Campuses struggling to stay open when newly arrived freshmen can’t see to help but gather snd party and spread the virus. We’ll just have to see how it goes….they say…

Never quite sure

These runs clear my head. Settle me down. 

the streets speak

Soon enough oats time for the West Park (virtual)  Open Mic.  As always the “gang” is slow in gathering. But one by in they arrive, sharing their music. And sense of mural support. Everyone make sit through the ZOOM  door okay this week.  It keeps us going. One more week.

Living in Coronavirusworld 144: Untended gardens

8/20

"Keep Our Neighborhood Safe"

the untended garden

On my walk south, I find the 89th Street community garden is open again. In a typical summer, there would be Shakespeare productions, concerts and community picnics all in this pocket park created and tended by he neighbors. But from this spring until now, the garden has been under lock and key. And clearly the flowers have gone untended all this time. But still to see the gates open is a good sign.  All throughout the neighborhood I find posters from the Guardian Angels recruiting people to join their safety patrols and “keep our neighborhood safe.”  The question is from whom? The homeless? My old neighborhood has become seriously gentrified even with the continuing presence of public housing projects. Like masked super heroes, our Angels edge ever closer to vigilantism.

The West Park Center board struggles with the effects of the virus. No real productions since March. Productions shut down in mid run. Program committee putting together ideas for virtual programming. Meanwhile, the church struggles with its own issues of sustainability in light of the virus. And inevitably what happens with the church will impact the Center. We are all wrestling with the unknown.  Untended gardens. And of course we wrestle with how to engage the community debate over the placement of homeless in hotels. The “antis” have collected thousands of signatures and facebook members and now have hired an attorney.  The faith community, scattered and disconnected, even as their congregations are scattered and disconnected, is trying to finds a way to engage.  There will be a virtual Community Board 7 meeting Monday night to address the issue. We will at least be there to see what goes on.  Untended gardens.

The Gate feels almost normal when a neighborhood character brings her drama back again. With the inevitable call to the police. Just like BC (Before Corona) time.  The owner stops by our table. “Dinner and a movie” she says. And gives us a health pour of red. It is the cool of the evening.

8/21

....and still we die....

Emergency vehicles continue through the neighborhood. Three times during my phone call with my mom. And people continue to die.

Then Open Mic community gathers again. Shares our conversation. Our songs. Our anxieties. We are there  for each other. Until we end with RL’s “Stay Awhile With Me.”

                                                                     Stay Awhile....