Sunday, May 31, 2020

464. Two stories and survival.

BROWDERBOOKS

For a lively three-star Reedsy Discovery video review by Jennie Louwes of New Yorkers: A Feisty People Who Will Unsettle, Madden, Amuse and Astonish You, go here.  She loves New York and even briefly sings for you.  This is new for me -- a video review.

As always, for my other books, go here.  

And the eternally promised and eternally delayed website?  It's still in the final final final stages of development, and frankly, a pain in the ass.  Which has nothing to do with the final product, once it's finally final.  But getting there ain't half the fun.


Two Stories

                                   Mr. Frankfurter

Long ago a young woman told me two stories, both short.  She worked as secretary for a man named Frankfurter.  One day a serious letter came, addressed to Mr. Hamburger.  I repeat: a serious letter, not a joke.  Her boss was visibly annoyed.  She thought it hilarious, as did I, when she told me.

                                      Group Therapy

She also was doing group therapy: no therapist, just a bunch of people sharing worries and concerns.  One of the men complained bitterly and  repeatedly about his domineering mother.  Finally one member of the group, exasperated, said to him, "Get rid of her."  Then another said, "Yes, get rid of her."  Then the whole group joined together in a chorus, saying repeatedly, "Get rid of her!  Get rid of her!  Get rid of her!"  And right there, in front of all, he vomited.

Survival                                      

It's what we're all doing now in New York, most of us masked and observing social distancing.  My friends are stir-crazy.  Three now have phoned me for a lengthy conversation, faute de mieux.   
Every week or so I order food from LifeThyme, a health-food store on Sixth Avenue, through a service called Mercato.  It's simple: you see online what the store has to offer, click on the desired items, pay by Paypal or a credit card, and select a delivery time, usually on the following day.  Delivery fee and tip are included in the charge.  I know from experience that not all my chosen items will be available, so I order more than I need.  Though I ask them to phone me if some are unavailable, so we can arrange substitutions, often do not.  But the food always comes, delivered up the four steep flights, and I am glad to get it.  So for residents of New York, I highly recommend Mercato.  And if you don't want a health-food store, lots of other stores are also available.

And laundry?  My laundry is open on Tuesdays and Fridays, and it does do pick-up and delivery.  When I had my laundry done a few days ago, they picked it up circa 10 a.m. and delivered it by mid-afternoon -- unbelievably fast!  I suspect that they're not getting much business these days, which is surprising, to say the least.


File:Coronavirus Sunset (49674100283).jpg
Janine and Jim Eden


One group of New Yorkers who are happy about the empty streets is motorcyclists, since they have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to speed down thoroughfares free of traffic and all the problems it can pose.  Some of them enjoy it thoroughly, like one on the Westside Highway who praised the beauty of the Hudson River, with views ranging as far as the George Washington Bridge and the Palisades.  Others admit that it's a guilty pleasure, given the suffering of so many, and also keep in mind that injuries from a motorcycle accident would not rank high in the minds of careworn hospital staff busy with the virus.  And a few bikers are doing public service by bringing protective equipment, food, and other supplies to essential workers.

So it goes: masks, six-foot distancing, phone calls for company, food and laundry delivered, and motorcycles on empty streets.  As I said once before, New Yorkers can survive anything, if they have four essentials: courage, faith, hope, and toilet paper.  Especially toilet paper, as was obvious in the frenzied sales of it during the first panicky phase of the lockdown.


File:Panic sign toilet paper.svg
Inspired by the virus: a panic sign with toilet paper.
The RedBurn, Fry 1989.

One last note:  The Abingdon Square greenmarket still appears on Saturday morning, and yesterday, in addition to my beloved olive bread, blueberry muffin, and cookies, I got two boxes of strawberries and a pound of fresh-picked Brussels sprouts.  And in the park nearby, a rose bush was in full bloom, assaulting the eye with a blast of bright red blossoms.  The virus can't stop nature.


Coming soon:  Americanisms: expressions that mark the speaker as an American, or as someone trying to talk like us.  And why they make the Brits wince and cringe.  

©  2020  Clifford Browder




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