Views of a born and bred Brooklynite. (umbrooklynborn@gmail.com) This blog satisfies my need to hear and air feelings of B'klyn from the people whose life experience were born here. Hopefully it'll balance to some of the revisionist historical musings I've seen as if Bklyn barely existed before the 90's. Brooklyn as Tabula Rasa. If we can all live as best possible while appreciating the past and neighbors we've inherited that would be great too.
Yesterday morning my first thought when I learned Bloomberg was reelected Mayor by a 5 point margin (basically squeaking into office more like an ambitious rat than a financial wizard) first thing I wondered was who to blame. Of course I blamed Bloomberg for running a campaign that was more of a purchase than an anything else. And then I gave some time to the what had been been and could have beens, which is when I began blaming Obama for the way I felt he fostered doubt in the form of neglect for contender Bill Thompson.
But eventually this morning I brought it home. We don't like to hear it, but it's the fault of any New Yorker who has a problem with the way things are and yet voted to prolong the problem or worse didn't vote at all. I'm sure you know self-incrimination is not concept we're excited by. Not as New Yorkers, not as Americans. It's not an attractive concept.
An attractive concept is that we are a nation of rules and principals. That we stand for something good and right. But at times some of us are too often willing to be very human and ignore the rules and our principals if we think there is something in it for us. And then worse, sometimes we close our eyes and pretend invisible.
A majority of voting New Yorkers decided it was okay to let our principals slip, and let Bloomberg get away with causing of a lapse in our democratic process.
We gave up on ourselves and so from this point on if Bloomberg fails anyone in this third dynasty turn, it wont be as much as what we the unprincipled and or apathetic have failed in ourselves.
I can't help thinking of that saying, that "Americans get the president we deserve" (based on our actions, which was brought up often in describing the Bush presidency as a reflection of the citizenry). This (and whatever may come) is what we get. The blame is not Bloomberg's for running a third time, the blame is ours for getting out of his way.
Last year as I wandered along the NYC Marathon route I met an amazing bunch of people and one story, demonstrating the positive potential of random New York City encounters particular stood out. Here's that story in video and written form. Hope you have a good view of the Marathon.
Music:"Reach Out I'll Be There" by The Four Tops
Today's running of the New York City marathon will offer many intense and passive means of bystander participation. Some ways are almost as involved as running the race itself. But you don't have to be one of the hundreds of water bearing volunteers passing out hundreds of ounces of H2O to the masses. You don't have to play an instrument as is done at various points along the route, although it can greatly enhances the mood if you're belting out great sounds adding to the runner's sonic cacophony. You don't even need to bring a flag, although it's cool when people put on a giddy display of national backing.
However if you want low cost high impact results, I'd say pound for pound clasping hands (or giving five as we'd call it in the old neighborhood) with a marathon runner is one of the most fulfilling actions of the entire passive marathon watching experience. You, leaving your hand out to be slapped by a marathon runner you may never even see is the best is the greatest interaction for the generally uninitiated because it requires so little of the bystander. You only need extend your arm, hand and palm open, fingers spread like a wide welcoming smile. the runner stretches their hand out and in that brief contact you're able to offer good luck, hope, praise and allegiance to dozens maybe even hundreds. Which of course stimulates you as well, to embellish if nothing else. After all if you give "five" to a deflating runner who surges on after and wins, how can you not claim having had a hand in the victory?
But it's gotta be more empowering for the runner. Perhaps after six or nine or fifteen, certainly after twenty or so miles the mind must begin to peer dimly through a tunnel vision that can enhance focus but is just as able to become so transfixing as to block awareness and motivation. I imagine the runner in those fixated stretches, then a hand reaching out before them inviting, waiting passively. Then crack! It happens.
I've never run the marathon so I can't know from the runner's perspective, but it's gotta be more empowering for the runner. I've seen something happen when runner and bystander make that manual contact. Yours and their hands crash like human cymbals. A sudden jolt of focus, an explosion of unexpected encouragement. You become a pacemaker encouraging their required rhythm. And then it's over but the runner is sharper, more aware, redirected.
Amazing that it happens at all given the physics of the event. Marathon runners travel at an average of twelve miles per hour. If a moving car hit a parked car at that speed expensive damage would result. Despite the meaty mitt encircling much of our palm, it seems likely to think having somebody run their hand into yours at twelve miles an hour is gonna sting at least. So overcoming risk aversion is the first hurtle. Then there's the issue of aim. Again think twelve miles an hour. And consider it's not the comparably smooth ride of a car but the up and down, back and forth, bumpity jumpity of running. You'd be a head bobbing in a sea of bobble heads. Packed as well, so add to that a visibility limited to the back of the person a few inches in front of you. Objects are flashing into view, then gone. Salmon have an easier time locating things.
From my observations, of the hand-shake/clasps,pounds,fives I saw it was fifty-fifty between last minute sudden clasps and runners deliberate honing in on the supportive hand like a targeted missile.
During last year's marathon I was in Brooklyn, where Fort Greene tumbles down into Clinton Hill which promptly runs into Bedford-Stuyvesant. I took note of the many people giving that supportive hand to the runners. Eventually I reached the corner of Bedford and Lafayette avenues, across from KFC in what is usually accepted to still be Bed-Stuy. I noticed a spectator whose entire method of handshake, hand clasp, high five giving, separated him from the rest and that was Danny. Clearly he chose his spot, that corner where literally and sometimes figuratively the race turns. His hand remained aloft, just enough into the race as to matter, all the time I was there and I imagined long before and after. He was the Grizzly of the stream for that corner, except that instead of destroying hope with a swat he seemed to pound life and good will back into the runners he caught.
I was curious and spoke with Danny he explained that he held his hand out as a half target half energy boosting social connector because he made the runner's happy and that at the very least it made him happy. Then Shereen, the lovely woman standing beside Danny added it was also a showing of support. Shereen would know, thirteen years ago she and Danny met on that very corner.
On that day years ago Danny and Shereen exchanged numbers, courted, eventually married and have returned to that same spot every year since to continue their marathon watching tradition and share the love.
After meeting them I began to see, probably for the first time in 30 years of viewership how the New York City marathon strengthens and demonstrates that very New York City phenomon of possible, sudden, sometimes emotional bonds being created instantly between the diverse millions of New York's passing strangers. Often with lasting effect. While at the same time for those more deeply invested in New York City day in and day out, the marathon offers a warm touchstone for relationships that run and never lag.
"weather is like the lover's infidelity once occurring sunshine becomes the surprise; owed, overdue, otherwise always disappointing. it's past barely relevant except it's fall."*
A sudden drop in temperatures aside it's not really as bad outside as everyone I know has been talking about, granted to agree you probably have to imagine a cataclysmic child eating blizzard. "Objects of affection in refection are closer than they appear to be"
Context is everything always. Yes? Take this article from today's Sunday New York Times, "When Love is a Schelp" about the long distances lovers in NYC tend to commute just to exchange one bump and grind for another. With it's title attempting to brand this experience in broad New York terms, (using "schlep" to describe the journey's ordeal) the Times does it's best to make an experience that has been occurring for decades seem brand new. subway barriers
I guess credit could be given when the times makes the distinction that they aren't referring to many long-term new yorkers by stating that the lovers in a earlier era would have probably lived in clustered Manhattan neighborhoods. Reminds me of something a famous NY musician once reminded me, "the New York Times has no idea and no interest in what happens outside the boroughs." I argued that statement to be false, citing major events that get covered outside of Manhattan, and the musician said, "MAJOR events yes, a rape, a plane crash. but otherwise no." It seems the New York Times cares now although sometimes that news coverage outside Manhattan is not so actually new. "From Russia to far with love?"
An actually newer occurrence that drives me and apparently others is the human barricades many people have decided to become with the help of their cell phones. I've noticed many people who take a phone call in the city streets as a entitlement to become an island of immobility on our otherwise mobile isle, much to my disgust. We all know forward speedy movement is the way on city streets. Not for the life of me can I figure out why in the middle of the typical full on street stampede, cell phone users take "hello" to mean "freeze". In a piece I do like, the online sunday times has this from the city room "Complaint Box | Immobile on the Phone"
The piece details the writer's encounter with the cell phone users who violate our expectations of motion by standing at the top and blocking subway entrances (the worse). Maybe they're trying to talk their way out of a lover's schlep.
whooo... "plans; and the mice and men who make them" on the next maury... that's how this blog has been lately. better you don't know my plans, then you can less know and suffer the pain of my crushing fails.
anyway last weekmonth was a most excellent music exhibition at WillyB's own Brooklyn Bowl, which I need to write about because I thoroughly dug the place. The Legendary Roots Crew (not "band" unless you preside over a recording label or you're a smartass, perhaps if both) headlined and held sway, and hands down rocked the joint in at least three genre's of flow.
Talib Kweli came on (at one point baring a birthday cake in hand) Bajah + the Dry Eye Crew, Ursala Rucker, Moisturizer and Rev Vince, and host of other ascendant talents followed suit and collabo'd the night away.
All for $10 beans. Yup. 10. friends on mine were fed to miss it. so give a shout if you wants to know bout next time, meanwhile if you missed it, here go some blurry iPhone pics...(after a long delay..sigh)
Posts
