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Alana went back to the upper east side to check on her aunt. She wondered if her “favorite” grocery delivery person, Anat would be dropping off dried fruit and the rest of her aunt’s stuff.

Alana arrived just as Anat was departing. Again they looked at each other. But didn’t utter one word. Alana went upstairs. While riding the elevator she wondered if she should have said hello and had an informational conversation. She and Marc were dying to know why she changed and if their fight did it.

Anat walked over to where Jerry’s parents lived.

She walked through a terrifying neighborhood. People were social distancing. But more seemed inebriated. There was garbage all over. She saw the building his mom and dad dwell in. It looked like a roach motel. She heard screams and fights threw the windows of several buildings.

She was nauseous.

She wondered what she was doing with herself. She never had a friend. In school, while students broke away from their studies and partied, she sat in the library.

She sat in a silent study room. She knew nothing about raising a kid. But knew she’d do a better job than her parents. Was that it? Was she doing this to get revenge and prove she could do it? She didn’t know. But she knew that poor kid wouldn’t stand a chance if he went back to those losers. Maybe she shouldn’t get him. Perhaps he’d be better with a loving mom and dad. Maybe a sister. Sisters can be strange. But good for you. But she knew she had to make sure he was safe.

She kept walking.

A few very high druggies passed her. She ignored them.

The three of them surrounded her.

One pulled a knife and started screaming at her. The other had a needle hanging out of her arm. Anat knew she had to get out of there quickly. She probably should have called the NYPD.

But they have more important things to worry about with Covid-19 taking hold of the city. She didn’t want to waste their time.

The knife-wielder plunged at her. All of sudden out of Anat’s hands, raisins the size of small missiles flew. They knocked the knife right out of the guy’s hand. He went delirious. The lady yanked the needle out of her arm and try to inject Anat. She jumped back. Prunes and apricots were airborne. They nailed the needle lady in the eyes and nose. She fell back and landed on her butt. The other druggie sensibly ran. Anat let him go. She continued to launch dried fruit at the other two. When she felt she was secure she walked away.

She smiled. She was happy she still had her powers and could fight. She was gearing up for the next fight.

 

Marc and Alana picnicked in Flushing Meadow Park. They were socially distant. In fact, in the alcove, they set up their picnic basket no one was within 100 feet of them. They had not been to the park since their battle with Anat. The one that changed her life. Everything was quiet. They like everyone was waiting for this Covid-19 mess to end.

Anat did some work and went to the child protective services center to visit Jerry. She had some candy and toys. Not a lot. She didn’t want to spoil him. But she knew he’d been through a lot and needed to build trust and feel safe with adults.

As she walked in she noticed two dirtbags exiting. Funny for her to call someone a dirtbag. But she had been a different dirtbag. She could tell these people were druggies. She was just a mess. She spoke to Ann, the social worker, who informed her that the two people she saw walking out are Jerry’s parents. Yes, they are druggies. They are married and Jerry was not born out of wedlock.

Both of his parents have multiple arrests for drug use, domestic violence, petty theft, and assault.

Anat was pissed.

She knew they would try to take Jerry. Ann walked her into the rec room. Jerry was sitting there. His face looked gloomy, his eyes red from tears and he was shaking. Anat asked Ann what was up. She said seeing his parents caused him to get scared. He wouldn’t say a word to them. Not even hello. When they left he cried out, “don’t hurt me”.

Anat hustled over to him. He smiled. He grabbed her and wouldn’t let go. Anat cried. She spent her allotted time with Jerry. Ann was observing. She went back to Ann’s office. Ann let her know that Jerry’s parents would try to take him. There are legal proceedings. Their visit with Jerry was on camera. So were all of Anat’s. But Ann knew that they are his parents and would likely get people to recommend they get their son back.

Anat would probably be interviewed how she first met him. And of course, the police and medical records from the date his parents dumped in the park would come into play. Anat asked what she could do to get him? Or at the least, stop his parents from taking him. Ann gave her a link to fill out.

Anat went home filled it out and did her research on Jerry’s family. Nothing was good. Much worse than Ann laid out.   Anat was ready.

 

Let me start by acknowledging I know the BSA has its problems. It made mistakes. Every organization has. Let’s focus on the good.

Right now our lives have been turned upside down. We are confronted with social distancing, isolation, going out wearing a mask and gloves. The closures of offices, restaurants, sports venues and theaters. And more. Much more.

Growing up a scout the skills I learned are invaluable for today’s world or any other. I spent many years in summer camp where I learned to confront change and adapt to the circumstances. Let me cite a few examples from camp and other program areas and how its teachings have taught me to be prepared.

• During Wilderness Survival merit badge we were left in the middle of the woods with our canteen, pocketknife, a camp saw, matches, mess kit and sleeping bag. Each of us was given about a pound of chop meat, a tomato, green pepper and onion. We were expected to make camp, cook and well survive. We did not have the usual equipment we would normally have on a camping trip. I loved this training and did it many times as a camper and staff member. Every time I did the skies opened up from the time we set out to the time we packed camp and went back to our site. Did that stop us? No. We made shelter by building it with waterproof plant life. We stayed dry. We knew which plants we could eat and which would poison us. We built a small fire. Not a blazing one. But it kept us warm and allowed us to cook

• We would often go boating in the lake. Our canoes would swamp sometimes naturally or our fellow scouts would swamp us. We had fun. Did we panic? No. We knew how to drain our canoe, flip it over and paddle
• We camped in areas without traditional showers. We were able to wash up by boiling water and cleaning ourselves
• I once had a leader, my mentor who took us hikes deep into the camp. There was not always a camp latrine along the trail. If you have to go you have to go. He always carried toilet paper. We learned to do so. I’ve seen panicked people on hikes I took later in life. I was able to help
• On the trail to Eagle, we had to learn personal finance management it helped us budget our trips and other events. We learned how to shop for our meals and stay within the troops’ budget
• We learned how to pack before we go on a backpacking trip and what’s needed and what we can leave behind
• We learned to police our areas and keep everything as clean as we could. Hygiene was always paramount. Check out “Trashy Parks,” mitchellthoughtsblog.wordpress.com/2020/01/07/trashy-parks/.
  

  

  

  

Photos were taken at Ten Mile River Scout Camps, Narrowsburg, NY

So how does this help us during the Corona Virus?

Simple.

Our motto is, “Be Prepared.”

When business associates, family, friends, etc. were perplexed. The skills learned in scouting made it easy to adapt and be prepared to take on the changes we are beset with. Can’t do in-person meetings? Go to Zoom or Skype. I worked with the older scouts to teach our elders how to zoom. It was entertaining. But we did it. We were able to continue our business and scout meetings, religious services and keep our community centers going.

We used to have to remember to be properly dressed for our camping trips. We’d put on our boots, camp pants, shirts and make sure we had a raincoat in our pack. Now we need to go out with our mask and gloves. Simple keep your box right at your door. Keep the trashcan nearby so you can toss them right in when you return. Remember to stuff and extra pair in your coat or pockets if you plan to be out longer than expected and/or your existing PPE tears.

Do you have to stay away from certain areas or go a different way to get somewhere because your normal route is closed off? Think of Orienteering merit badge. Remember when we had to get to a destination by taking a different path than usual along the trail. Can’t take public transportation? Again, remember Orienteering merit badge and toss in Hiking merit badge. Map out a trail and walk. The gyms are closed. So we need to exercise.

Is your favorite pizza place or other restaurant closed or too far to get to? Remember Cooking merit badge and your survival training. Cook.

The list goes and on. But the scouting program gives us skills that will last us our whole lives. I am glad I “leaaaaarrnned” so much and am ready. Be Prepared.

 

 

Alana made Marc mop. He always hated mopping. But he did it. Alana was doing her nails. Black polish. She was making plans to go out. Not. She just had to look good.

Anat got all of the packages of clothes and toys for the kid she found a few days ago. She put on her black mask and gloves and went to the child center. She signed in. The boy, whose name they found out is Jerry ran right up to her and jumped. He smiled. She cried. She wasn’t sure what this was supposed to feel like. Other than her grandma no one ever was happy to see her.

She held Jerry for a few minutes. Then she gave the social worker the clothing and toys. He was probably going to be the only kid in protective services in genuine Lacoste, Fendi and Ralph Lauren clothing. Nothing for the best for a three-year-old kid she’s known for about a week. The toys were great, too. She wasn’t sure if he was too young for an iPad? So she got him Tonka trucks, coloring books, a classic Etch A Sketch and a baseball glove.  Oh, she did get him a Red Sox hat.

She hung with him under the social worker’s watchful eye for about 30 minutes. She walked out of the rec room. The social worker said he was doing better and talking a little. He mentioned the lady with black boots that helped him. Her eyes teared again. They are trying to locate his parents. The social worker told a little more than she should have. It seems the kid was abused. He kept saying people hit me. They drop me.

Anat asked what the rules were for adoption or foster care. What was she thinking? Here she was a single woman who fights with dried fruit and never a relationship with anyone other than her grandma and grandfather. Sadly he died when she was quite young. She has faded memories of him.

She walked out of the center and started Googling info about raising a child. But then thoughts went through her mind. What if Jerry’s parents try to come and get him? Would the city let them?

 

We all have habits. Some we grew up with. Some we developed as life moved on. I grew up with a love of taking out the garbage. Is it moving the trashcans to the foot of the driveway, tossing the trash bag down the chute of the incinerator? All. But these days you need a mask and gloves to do all this. So is it worth it to take it out instantly? Or can we let recyclables sit in a bag for a day or two and load up? Maybe go out once or twice a week to the incinerator, which is less than 7 feet from my door. I just don’t know. But let’s discuss it.

Of course, garbage has not been incinerated in NYC since 1993. In ’89, Mayor Koch, one of the last real New Yorkers — “How am my doin’” pushed a bill through to stop it.  The last building incinerators were torn down in 1993. Today’s recycling laws make garbage disposal for someone like me more fun. We get to separate aluminum, plastics and paper. We use different trash disposal containers in our buildings.

Let me do the origin story. It starts with my maternal grandparents. My grandmother would make my grandfather go to the incinerator all day. Amazing to believe that two people produced enough trash for him to spend so much time taking it out.

A typical visit would be to eat a meal she cooked. We would eat quickly. If we started eating at 2:45, we’d be done by 3:00 p.m. and the Brooklyn apartment would be cleaned by 3:05. The vacuum would come out and grandpa would go to the incinerator.

At least 20 years ago, we were at my mom’s for a Sunday barbecue. My mom has a typical kitchen garbage can containing a “tall kitchen garbage bag”. My grandmother was looking at grandpa. He knew the “take out the garbage look.” She said the bag was getting full. Keep in mind he was an officer in the US Army and defended us during WW II. He jumped right up and headed to the trashcan. My mother yelled, “Unlike you, we do not worship garbage.” He sat down. Mom loaded more garbage into the can. She made it overflow. Later on, I got the joy of emptying it and bringing it to the outdoor can.

I got my first Rego Park, N.Y. apartment and took my grandparents’ garbage take out to the extreme. Then I moved to a Bay Terrace, Staten Island, N.Y. place. It had Dumpsters. I used to love to go to the Dumpsters.  Eventually, I moved back to Queens. But when I travel to the Island on the Staten Island Railway, I pass the apartment complex and can see the Dumpsters. I salute them.

I’ve been at the new place since 2007. From day one I went to the incinerator like grandpa.  Sadly, in 2011 he passed away. So I go in his memory. Thankfully, the incinerator door on the floor at grandma’s still has the note he left — “LAZY people PUSH GARBAGE DOWN CHUTE YOU BRING ROACHES.” She still goes to it all the time.

But over the last few weeks, I’ve let the recyclable trash sit in a bag and bring it out all at once. Instead of a cereal box at 6:00 a.m., a Tropicana container at 6:20 a.m., a can a few minutes later. You get the point.

What will I do after the virus ends and we go back to life? I don’t know. But it has made me rethink are my old habits worthwhile?

To my “worried old Jewish grandma” commenter, I have not traveled via public transit since March 15.   Love ‘ya and appreciate your concern. It means a lot. That day, I took the “R” subway line from 71st and Continental to the Staten Island Ferry Terminal St. George stop. I boarded the ferry and then took the Staten Island Railway to Annandale.

Later that day, I went home via the same transit that got me to Staten Island. It was a great day with mom and my nephew. He did not want the pizza we got him. So he beat up the slice like a prizefighter. I thought that was sacrilegious.

The trains and ferry were empty. I was wearing gloves. No mask. They weren’t required at that time. Everyone on the train was socially distant. One neat looking man stood near my seat by the door. I got up and moved. What was bothering me was, while he appeared clean he reeked of cologne.

No one should wear it. I remember my sister and I pushing our dad not to wear cologne.  My mom made my grandmother stop using perfume.

I sat on the public transit with my Kindle and read. On the ferry, I shot great shots of other ferries and marine traffic. My DSLR photos got great visibility on social media and were shared by Staten Island’s Boro Hall.

While traveling I did not notice anyone sneeze, cough, scratch their eyes, ears, or pick their nose. Trust me, I notice everything on the train and when I’m outside.

But lately all the “infectious disease” experts on Facebook, Twitter, etc. have posted pictures of people doing this and/or commented.

How many of us have recently read a post saying something like this, “I was on the train and this person (picture included) scratched her eye” or “this person coughed or sneezed.” Then they’d go onto tell how they are so sure these people are carrying Covid-19. I guess it is good we have so many medical professionals on our trains and walking our streets. People are posting the same diatribe when they see people doing this on Lexington or Madison Avenues.

Yes, everyone is on heightened alert for his or her safety. That’s understandable. Trust me, I am. I probably was since birth. My mom and sister can attest to that. But people do sneeze, cough, or have to scratch their eyes. It doesn’t mean they are ill with Covid-19. My eyes often itch.

Are you so high and mighty that you’ve never sneezed, coughed or had to scratch your eyes or forehead while on public transit or walking down the street? I doubt there is anyone that can attest to that. Let’s wear our PPE, stay clean and help each other out. It is the only way we will get through this and get back to the places we want to be like Yankee Stadium or watching a great performance at Lincoln Center. Or whatever it is that you fancy.

 

 

 

 

How many of you have gone grocery shopping during the COVID-19 pandemic? Or at any time in your life? I am sure the numbers are astronomical.

Like all of you, I’ve been doing it. Yes, I try to get most of my groceries from FreshDirect. It is doing a superhero job. Unfortunately, like every store be it online or brick and mortar it doesn’t have everything in stock. It is tough to lock in a delivery time. Not its fault. So us masked and gloved folks go out to our local store. We patiently wait our turn to be let in.

When we get in it in we feel like a little kid going to Disney World. We carry our own bags.

Heaven forbid we get a supermarket plastic bag at checkout. We walk around an empty store and shop. For the record, the only positive thing is you literally get the store to yourself. But what I wouldn’t give for the old way of shopping.

You grab your milk, juice, cookies, meat, poultry, and fish. Grabbing your fish, meat and poultry starts the craziness. Some of the nutty shoppers have to look at every package. And these days due to sicknesses in the meat and poultry plants there might be a shortage. Just grab a package or two. Or three. If it is not the exact cut or weight that you normally purchase, it should suffice. You and your family will be fed. Adapt to the times.

Then comes the greater challenge. You enter the fruit and vegetable department. This should be easy no matter the circumstances. But has it ever been? Sure you can grab containers of blueberries, blackberries and strawberries. Easy. No, not at all. Even in an empty store, you have to fight your way amongst the crazies who have to look at each apple. Just take a few, stuff them in the plastic bag and go on. After they pick their apple(s) they then have to do the same with the tomatoes, peppers and the list goes on and on.

After you get out of that war you march up to the deli counter. That gets sicker. You have the same crazies who had to examine each apple ask a bevy of questions to the poor guy or gal behind the counter. “How’s the roast beef? Is it fresh? Oh, those chicken cutlets look good. Are they? When were the stuffed peppers cooked? How spicy are they?” And the list of dumb questions goes and on.

The only legitimate question is are the stuffed peppers spicy. Do you really think the deli counter person is going to say, “Well the roast beef is not fresh. It has been sitting on our counter since the flood. Or no, the chicken cutlets are not fresh. We cooked them last week.”

“Oh, and our stuffed peppers were cooked with old meat and wilted peppers. But we cooked them this morning. How many would you like?”

Seriously, give the people behind the counter a break. They’ve been working longer hours than usual. They are under more pressure. Pick a few items, put them in your bag, go to the register, swipe your MasterCard and go. Let someone else in.

I am not a betting man. But I think during our current pandemic, it is safe to bet we all want to help out as much as we can. We want to keep the economy going while staying safe.

On that note, yesterday I decided to get a sandwich. Wearing PPE, I walked over to a store that makes a great chicken sandwich. Sadly, it was closed. When it reopens I will make my purchase. I walked a few blocks to another one. I’ve been a customer since it opened. I’ve recommended it to friends.

I saw through the window the staff was wearing gloves. I saw a cook over the stove. But couldn’t see through the door if he was wearing a mask. I was able to see him change his gloves and walk back to the stove. I stuck my head in the door and got a better view. Gloves, yes. Mask, no. I decided to go to the supermarket and buy chicken.

Now the virus can take hold in the supermarket, too. But from what I’ve witnessed over the last few weeks this store’s employees have all been wearing masks, gloves, and aprons. And some lucky soul has been walking around sweeping and mopping. I felt safer.

About a week ago, I wanted a bagel. I went to a store I often went to. I looked through the window. Sitting at the counter was a customer sipping her coffee and munching on her breakfast. The staff was not wearing masks or head coverings. Come to think of it I don’t remember them ever wearing head coverings. I chose not to go in. I walked to another bagel store. It was closed. I know under normal circumstances its staff wears gloves and head coverings. I decided to do the only responsible thing, go home and eat Frosted Flakes. After all, “They ‘re Gr-R-Reat.”

The question I have in my mind is will I go back to these stores when we are allowed to go back to business as usual or whatever constitutes the new biz as usual.

Unlikely.

Alana sent Marc to Walgreens to buy a mop. She gave him a list of a few other things. But the mop was the priority. Marc was happy to be out. He had not been outside in about four days. He wondered how prisoners dealt with the confinement. That was reason enough, to be honest, and to stay out of jail.

He strolled along the empty streets while humming Sting’s “If you love somebody set them free”. He knew he loves Alana and he could never set her free. She is free. That’s the beauty of the two of them. They are free. But are together.

A few cars drove down Queens Boulevard. All was well. Marc got on the social distancing line at the store. He was still humming tunes from Sting.

All of a sudden a group of people left their autos and got on the line. They tried to rush into the store. The security guard tried to keep order. Marc was annoyed that he was standing at the entrance of the store smoking. He hated cigarettes. Wanted them outlawed.

Marc just chilled and figured the security guard would obtain control. There was usually an NYPD car near the store. Not today.

The people tried to push in. The guard was knocked down. He clutched his cancer stick as he hit the ground. He got his last drag.

Some people walked right onto him.

Marc had enough.

He didn’t care anymore that the guy was poisoning everyone’s lungs. He was working hard and trying to help maintain order.

The ringleader of the people was in the store grabbing whatever she wanted. Her followers were doing the same. Marc told them to stop. They laughed at him and kept at it. He didn’t want to get close to anyone. But he knew these people needed to be stopped. He knew they had no intention of paying for their merchandise.

He stared at the ringleader. She threw a container of Tide at him. She missed. She grabbed several other things and kept missing. Marc shut his eyes for a second. Then he wound up. He opened his hands and unleashed several superhero sized pomegranates. The ringleader was down for the count. Marc hoped he didn’t have to fight anyone else. He was hoping they would wake out defeated. Alas, that did not happen. They ganged up on him with scissors, soda cans, and insect repellent. Marc shot honey out of his eyes. He knocked down three people. But four others remained strong. He hadn’t fought since that crazy day with Anat. And he Alana double-teamed their nemesis. He began to mix barley, honey, and pomegranates. Finally, he caught the upper hand. Everyone went down. He warned them to act respectfully during this time of crisis and ordered them all to get up and go. As they exited the store he shot more barley.

He picked out a mop.

Paid for it and walked out.

 

Marc decided to go for a walk. Alana stayed home and surfed the web. Marc walked and walked.  He came home. He was the only one out there. Alana was reading and sipping Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

They smiled at each other. Marc grabbed a beer. The two spoke for a little while and started watching a classic Yankee game on YES. Such was life. Marc was supposed to be at the Stadium.

In about an hour they would watch one of their new fave bands, Brewster Moonface do their Thursday live stream. Marc met the band when they played the Coney Island Brewery on the New Year’s Day Polar Bear Plunge. He took some photos. Alana went swimming. One day Marc would jump in during the winter. He’s been saying that for ages. The two haven’t had to save anyone lately. They were worried their skills were rusty. They practiced in their bathroom.

Anat was worried sick about the little boy she helped. Not being related to him she wasn’t allowed to accompany him to the hospital. But the police officer and EMT promised her they would let her know what happened and if they found his parents. She never had feelings for anyone but her grandmother. She tried with her parents. But they shut her out. She hasn’t seen or heard for them since she graduated Stanford. She had no plans to contact them.

She sat in her apartment hard at work, when her phone buzzed. Caller ID said it was the NYPD. She answered and spoke to the officer who came when she dialed 911. The officer said they think the boy was left in the park. They are still searching for his parents. His wounds are healing and he will go into protective care. They said he needed some clothes. Anat asked for the address of the facility he’d be placed in. She got right onto Bloomingdales’ website and ordered lots of clothes. She would hand deliver them as soon as they arrived.