Neither of these guys is the baby, who comes as soon as I fill the feeder, before the bigger squirrels and the birds get here. I think he sits and waits. These two are siblings, two of the four born in the tree this year. Things were not this amicable for long. They kept whacking each other over the head and diving for the best seeds. They did share the feeder without actually chasing each other off, though. A big crow came to watch, but he clearly decided the whole thing was just going to be trouble, so he left. Bella practically lost her mind over the two squirrels, but she was a little intimidated by the size of the crow. So was I.
NYC’s MOFAD – Museum of Food and Drink – has compiled a list of food-, food-industry, and chef-related resources focused on communities and individuals of color.
And Ethnojunkie has posted a list
of black-owned restaurants and eateries in NYC.
Once we’re in Phase 2, you know where to go.
I’m walking behind a young boy, maybe four years old, and his dad. They’re holding hands and talking in Spanish, about the parking place they found and something about Mama that I didn’t get. Then the kid says, “We need ta poo.”
Dad says, switching to English, too, “You just went before we left home.”
Kid: “We need ta poo.”
Dad: “Well, I don’t, so if you don’t, then we don’t.”
Kid: “We need ta poo!”
Dad: “Okay, no problem. We’re almost at the park and they have a potty there.”
Whereupon the kid stops, pulls on his dad’s hand, points to the stuffed bear the little girl ahead on the sidewalk is carrying, and says, slowly and loudly because adults can be so dim-witted, what he’s been saying all along: “WINNIE! THE! POOH!”
I love New York.
I love New York so much I made a 2019 calendar. Get yours now while there’s a discount!
SJ Rozan 2019 Calendar
All the photos except one were taken in New York. Extra points if you spot that one.(Hint: this isn’t it.)
For some reason unknown to me — as the reasons for most things are — yesterday morning’s walk to the basketball gym was rife with discarded items that practically wrote their own captions. Here are mine; you’re welcome to send yours.
Honey… About the dog…
Whee! First-class flatbed from now on!
It should’ve set off warning bells when he insisted on hanging that stupid self-portrait in the living room.
Take this messenger job and shove it!
Do you think he’ll get it if I leave TWO behind?
Yesterday, walking down a midtown street, I hear this behind me: “Now you have to keep your eyes absolutely shut for the next five minutes. Either that or you can stay here and I’ll come back for you.” The answer: “Okay, I will.” Both voices sound cheerful but this is odd so naturally I turn to see what’s up. A young black man with an enormous grin is leading his eyes-shut girlfriend by the hand. They come to a shop; he takes her in and positions her in the narrow window by the door, facing the street so that even if she peeks she won’t know where they are. But I’m watching from the sidewalk and she’s doing exactly as she promised.
They’re in a jewelry store. Still grinning, he goes to the ring counter. He’s obviously been there before because he knows exactly what he wants. The salesperson brings out the ring he’s pointed to. They have a brief discussion which by the way he rubs his knuckle I surmise is about re-sizing after purchase. Satisfied with the answer, he glances over at his girlfriend, still with her eyes squeezed shut, which he can’t see but I can. He catches sight of me watching. I give him a thumbs-up, both about her not peeking and about the whole business.
He goes to the register, takes out his credit card, buys the ring, and walks over to her. Right there in the window, open box on his palm, he says something and she turns, opening her eyes. First she looks around and realizes where they are. Then she sees what he’s holding out to her. She bursts into tears. His grin has gotten so enormous it’s sparkling off all the other rings and bracelets in the store. I give them another thumbs-up and leave.
Romance is not dead. And I love New York.
It’s not uncommon here to see plastic bottles and aluminum cans left beside trash containers, for street people to collect and redeem for the nickel or dime. People often place them carefully so they won’t blow away. This, however, was new to me: a pile, worth a couple of bucks, with its own handy carrying bag. I love New York.
Haven’t done one of these in awhile, but NYC, my home place, just keeps coming. A few recent wonderfulnesses:
In Queens, right outside the gates to a large cemetery, stand two commercial enterprises. One, unsurprisingly, sells gravestones. The other sells construction supplies: hard hats, safety cones, warning flags. This strikes me as an excellent choice of location on the part of the construction business. The subliminal message is so clear as to hardly be subliminal: If you don’t buy OUR products, you might have to buy THEIR products.
Also in Queens, a psychic has a storefront office next to the We Buy Gold store. This is for your convenience, in case the psychic gives you bad news?
And, finally: the guy in the shoe repair/keymaking shop on 44th St. has a plastic jug into which runs a flexible piece of hose containing the overflow from his air conditioning unit. I’m thinking, how courteous, to keep people’s shoes dry, preventing what would otherwise be a small but steady stream on the sidewalk. That may have been the original impulse; but I was there when he opened the shop yesterday morning. He took the hose out of the jug, crossed the sidewalk, and carefully watered the street tree in front of his shop.
I love New York.
Meanwhile, with all the appallingness going on in the world, New York continues to come through. On the serious side, there’s now free college tuition throughout the state for kids of middle-class families, and a serious look being taken in Albany at single-payer health care. And on the who’d-a-thunk-it side, there’s this. It’s the NYPD Out and Proud Mobile, parked across the street from the Stonewall Inn, where what was then called the Gay Liberation movement really took off in 1969 in response to a, yes, NYPD raid. What you can hardly see unless you look closely is that the lights in the light bar on top are rainbow-colored. What you don’t see is that I had to wait to shoot this photo until a car pulled away — it was driven by a black-dressed Hasidic Jew who stopped beside the cops, gave them a thumbs-up, and said in a heavy Yiddish accent, “You guys are beautiful!”
Note on a NYC subway seat tonight. No one sat there. I love New York!