And there was a belly dancer

2/21

It’s a beautiful sunny day. After a long walk an a bus ride, I’m walking down 86^th street to the church and encounter Anna and puppy off on their own long walk. We share the news of the day and  our observations and reflections. Other dog walkers pass by, their dogs stopping to check out puppy. When I finally get to the church, I realize I have left my lap top at home, so have to go all the way back again if I hope to get anything done. Sigh.

Jamie arrives. She’s been working hard to pull together the report on everything we’ve been doing to build a capital campaign to begin moving forward. We’ve also got to look at all the internal dynamics.

Not too long after Hugo arrives. This morning, we were both at a Presbytery leadership training day. It’s planned and organized by the committee that opened the door for us to walk through with Presbytery. Who stood with us when no one else would. So we owe it to be here for them. And Hugo has been asked to share in leadership, to share his story.

And as I listened to him, I felt very proud, honored and happy. To hear his journey from traditional Central America Catholic, to his experience of liberation theology and Christian base communities, which became the building blocks of the revolution. To his experience in Cuba. To his first experience with Presbyterian missionaries who decided not to compete with existing Christian communities but to stand in supportive solidarity with the already existing community of faithful.That experience touched him deeply.

When the Sandinistas got voted out of governance, he returned to the United States. And looking  for a church, found West-Park while Regi was still there as out multicultural pastor. They joined  the afternoon community, then called enlace de gracia.  Now as Regi. and that special service is gone…they remain faithful still. He was once a Sandinista diplomat. Now he manages a supportive housing SRO. (For WSSFSH, another ministry born at West-Park, years ago.http://www.wsfssh.org/) But he remains a moral compass for our church. And for me. I will always remember his arrest during the Landmarks struggle and his refusal to cop a plea and accept community service. He held his ground. And was exonerated. It’s good to have him here. (http://www.dnainfo.com/new-york/20100420/upper-west-side/west-park-presbyterian-church-official-arrested-for-graffiti-blasting-gale-brewer)

Hugo , Jamie and I review our situation. Talk strategy. Seek clarity.

Jamie leaves to go home. Later we’ll meet at Joe’s Pub to see Noche Flamenca’s performance. Where Martin’s choreography, his flamenco version of Antigone will blow out the walls of a genre, open up new space. Will take flamenco places no  one could imagine. For him, it' a living, breathing form. I will see Marina reach new places as a dancer, places it had looked like she could go. She has a gift. True duende. He’s using puppets and puppeteers from Basil Twist,(http://www.basiltwist.com/) the hip puppeteer du jour working with the Public Theatre, the Metropolitan opera and his own creations. But most of all, it’s Sole, Soledad Barrio, her last solo, that literally drove me to tears. She just goes to another deeper, more profound place. A place that is, well, transformative….And I am filled with a sense of satisfaction that this performance  came together at West-Park. Yet another why we are here.

                                 * * * *

Make a stop at West-Park on my way home, just to check things out. Another opening night for Berik and Leila and the party is still going on. He seems to have found the right combination of art and music and is developing  a strong following of younger artists. When I get there, a woman is singing and another woman is belly dancing.

And there was a belly dancer

And in the back, there's RL. Seems they needed a mic so went up and asked him and he came down  and one thing led to another and eventually he did a 3 song set ending with Stay Awhile and apparently had them dancing and clapping which doesn't surprise me. The best is yet to come. I am hoping to live long enough to be colorful. Need to start working on that now. 

Not a jam

2/21

Welcome back open mic

Yesterday was a  long day of holding.  Danielle was there at 6AM to open up for all the extras of a new  television show, Believe. They’re filming over on Columbus. Between every scene they’re in Mc Alpin for long stretches of wait time and catering. As of 7 PM , they were still here.

Today is my day for early duty. At last an electrician is coming to deal with the scaffolding lights. I hear him knocking on the door, but I can’t open it because Joe and La Toya are asleep there. Sigh. So I ask him to come around to the side door. He has found the problem and it was exactly what David S had thought it was. And now it’s fixed. Lights again. We can stop worrying about a fine.

I have to head downtown to meet with our attorney in one of our cases. This is a whole area of law that seems to demand some Biblical injunctions.  I get back in time to update Danielle and breathe another sigh. And then she shows me the email that threatens to throw all things into chaos. A definite headscratcher. Like from out of nowhere. We look at each other in disbelief.

Jamie drops in to talk so we head to the B. Haven’t been there in a while. Lots to catch up on. When we get back to the church, open mic is already in session. It’s our first in weeks, since the cold weather hit. We’ve lost  a few folks, but I’m actually surprised how many have returned. Jamie decides to stay.

Abigail is reading from her husband Les’ memoir about the Holocaust years. His parents dressing him like a girl to hide him from the Nazis. There are some new stayers as well. Joe has at least one Pete Seeger tribute.

As RL steps up to the stage, he gets Abigail to join him on violin and Les pulls out his melodica and joins in and Bobby heads to the baby grand. An all star accompaniment to RL’s singing about his baby

RL rocking

leaving.

I come up with a post-Valentine’s set that works. I love the feeling of flow. And my fingers feel loose for a change.Is it the weather? They’re actually moving where and when I want them to, adding notes. And on my final song, Pat O adds a lead guitar and Abigail her fiddle. I haven’t had that I a long time, and it feels good.

Before the anticipated finale, RL gets almost teary talking about the beauty of live music  and the difference between our style of open mics and jam sessions. Jams are competitive, can you top this? This is different. It’s collaborative.  You play your song, leave some room, we’ll add in. It  beautiful when it works. And then it’s a full stage together to say goodnight even while being wooed to stay awhile.

...and a long awaited premiere

2/20

Cara back again.

I take some time to go home and work on the apartment.

Danielle tells me David S went up the ladder and tried what hte scaffolding people recommended and no luck with the lights. Need an electrician for sure…

When I get back, Marsha and Stephen are here for a conversation with trust company affiliated with the Presbyterian Foundation to explore various options re. investing our money.  There’s a lot to think about. Haven’t had this problem, for a long time. Good to be on this side of that one.

Dzieci has arrived for a night of Sacred Harp/Shaped note singing. They accidentally turned off te wrong switch so RL is here looking to get his internet back on. Jason W is here too, just wanting to talk. But I am in the middle of this conference call…

Jeremy is here disappointed because at my request he came back to hear Workcenter’s open choir but got Dzieci instead.

I have no time to talk because I’m headed to West End for our Palestine Film Series. Tonight the long delayed New York premiere of  David Koff’s 1981 documentary Occupied Palestine. Censored, banned, blacklisted after its bomb threat interrupted San Francisco premiere. Only in the last year has it resurfaced. And David himself will be there. (For more information on this film and David Koff go to  http://www.davidrkoff.com/ ) I return worn out from the feelings un leashed during the q&a.

Earlier today, after my conversation with Joe and La Toya, Danielle had to have a second one.  He completely doesn’t get why he can’t be seeping there during the work day. Apparently he’s in a GED program. Danielle will try and connect him with the Interfaith Assembly in Housing and Homelessness.

I managed to get email addresses for Jack’s daughters and reach out to them . Apparently shortly after my last visit, right before I got caught up in my move and being wiped out, he went into the hospital. There had been a living memorial last year where all his friends gathered at the Aurora to read their favorite poems of his aloud.  And during his stay at Roosevelt, musicians would come by. Bureaucratic snafus keep him from ever getting into a residential hospice. Didn’t love that long after an amputation.   A Buddhist friend gave him a blessing. I would have gone back to his Irish roots and given him last rites. I feel so unfinished. But because of last year’s event and an early January family reunion, there will be no other memorial. His ashes will go to the San Juan Islands off the northwest coast. His poems are all in Nebraska with his daughter. Everything out of his apartment. Unfinished. Yes. And cut off.

Need to think through what I need to do.

My friend Jack died last week

2/19

Cara is here for her first official day as porter. Work that much need to be done.

And of course Eldridge wanting his round trip to the doctor and no I don’t need to see the leg.

Still no lights under the scaffolding.

I decide to go visit my old friend Jack. I call. His phone is disconnected. I feel a sense of panic. Call Rudy who I know goes to visit him, too. Rudy knows nothing, offers to visit tomorrow. I tell him I’m going now. When I get to the Aurora, they tell me, Oh, he died last Wednesday. And then when they see the look on my face, they apologize and send for his social worker. Who tells me she’s not allowed to tell me anything but will tell the family I was there.

I feel a sense of shock and of deep and profound sadness. Both at how I will miss him and my sadness that I didn’t get to see him in those last days.  Any of those days I felt moved to see him would have gotten me there. At the bus stop, I’m feeling cold and wet and alone.

Jack was an amazing man. A jazz musician.  A college dean.  A playwright. And after his first stroke he turned to poetry and after his next one, minimalist poetry.  He used his speech impairment as an instrument. He was a photographer whose photo of a poem on his hand graced our city buses for awhile as part of their poetry in motion series. He was like the black knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail who as each limb gets cut off, keeps on coming. When my oldest son Micah was in high school, he was his writing coach. And one time put Micah into a poem he’d written.  His Men’s Spirituality and Writing group reawakened my writing. It was a safe space for exploration and growth. Conflicts from other parts of church life were set aside at these meetings. Later, we moved to his apartment for our meetings as mobility became more difficult. Even after death and other falling  aways ended our group, I still continued to visit him. During the West-Park fight to come back, he knew instinctively what we were trying to do here and kept pushing, supporting and congratulating. He desperately wanted to come back to church, but that was just not possible. I wanted to do a celebration  of his life here, including his jazz. His very unique old recordings.  Not to be. He held on to life at every minute, taking it as it could be.  During my lowest moments last summer, his apartment with the late afternoon sun was a safe house for  me. I will miss him beyond words, although he’d try and make me find the right ones.

You can't ever put off that visit, that phone call, that good bye....

I’ve got some research to do here….

Some of Jack's music from the 1940's....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KcWjQ2VTdZc, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGUO8qqmj_M

Jeremy is back from Zanzibar

2/18

The cold, and the quiet continue. Another day and the scaffolding people do not respond. Danielle finally gets past the middle woman to the boss and lets him know if we get fined, they’ll be responsible.

David S stops through, looking for RL. More than enough jobs to deal with and no clear word as to where to begin.

Jeremy has returned from Zanzibar. Playing three days at a world music festival. With Africans and adventure tourists. His work with African diva Wunmi will soon take him to Brazil for Carnivale. (http://jeremymage.com/) We’re talking about what we can do together coming up and how we might also connect with the Workcenter and/or Dzieci folk. He’s just back and a bit weary so we’ll talk more later.

Priska has been up in her studio working and comes down to meet him. It’s the anniversary of their first date or at least first meeting. We walk out into the cold and down the street together.