Category: Uncategorized

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.

 

 

 

Marc and Alana decided to take a walk. They were socially distant and very confused. Not sure what to make of Anat’s change. Or was it a change? Was she trying to deceive people and lead everyone into a trap?
The two walked and walked. They exchanged smiles. Alana was blasting a mix of unreleased U2 songs. She found them in a Rolling Stone article and downloaded everything from YouTube. Marc hates headphones. So he was humming tunes from the Alarm and Echo and the Bunnymen.
Anat was running in Riverside Park. She was wearing her new sweats, t-shirt, and Asics. And her Red Sox hat. She was thinking about one of her first wars with Marc outside the Stadium when his team was playing hers. To her dismay, Rivera ended the game by striking out Big Papi. Everyone in ‘da Bronx went home happy. Marc was so pissed baseball season has been delayed and may not even happen.
Anat picked up speed. The park was empty. She was feeling good. She always did keep in shape. She needed to maintain her fighting form. These days she isn’t fighting. She hasn’t fought since she got knocked out by Marc and Alana in Queens. She was cool when she ran into Alana delivering groceries. How long could she stay that way?
Her iPhone was cranking a mix of Love and Rockets, Sham 69 and the Buzzcocks. The music stopped. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to choose her next mix. Likely Pearl Jam, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Smiths. She heard screams. Normally she liked it when people were in trouble. She hit play and kept running. As she steamed ahead she saw a little boy about three years old by himself on a park bench. He was screaming. She saw some blood running down his leg. She stopped and yelled out to him asking where his parents were.
He just shook. She looked around and saw no one. She was afraid to get closer — Covid-19 and she didn’t know this kid. She has come too far to get into trouble. But the boy needed help.
She yelled out if he was hungry. He shook his head in the affirmative. She shot more raisins than would be used to fill a bowl of Raisin Bran. Apricots followed. The kid was confused. But he ate them. She took her running towel and tossed it to him. Next came a fresh bottle of Poland Spring. She spilled it on his wound. Still wearing her gloves she tied the towel around the gash on his leg. She dialed 911 and explained what happened. There was still no one coming for him. He probably needed stitches. The operator told her to stay near the boy and that an ambulance was on its way.

She asked if he had any identifying objects on him. She said no. She described him.
The ambulance and NYPD arrived. She explained what happened. The EMT said she did a nice job cleaning up his wound. The kid wouldn’t answer any of the EMT’s or police officer’s questions. Maybe he couldn’t. They put him in the ambulance and headed for Mt. Sinai West.

The Covid curve was getting better. Things were slowly getting back to normal. You still had to be very careful. But there were some breaths of fresh air.
Alana decided she would bust out of QT and visit her Aunt Matilda. She spoke with her on the phone and found out the best time to come. Her aunt said that coincided with her grocery delivery. That’s just what Alana wanted.
She still had no clue if Anat was the delivery person. Her aunt only knew that someone dropped them off to the building and the concierge brought them upstairs. She told Alana she could probably run down and carry them up if she was present when they arrived. She loved her concierge. But knew in these times he had more on his plate to worry about than bringing up bags of milk, tomatoes, juice and some other items to an old lady. Some of the old biddys in her building were not as polite. That’s life.
Alana was so happy to be on a subway. And she hated those rides. She picked up flowers for her aunt. She was heading toward the building when she saw Anat. She just watched. Her aunt did need the delivery. And she didn’t get sick from the prior ones.
Marc was home. The two discussed whether he should go. They decided he would stay home.
Anat walked up to Matilda’s building. Alana stepped behind her. The doorman knew both of them. He smiled as he held the door open for them.
Alana saw Anat walk to the concierge’s desk and hand over the bag. The concierge took the bag.
As he was about to go upstairs, Alana jumped over to him and said she’d take the bags. Anat stared right at her and smiled. Alana got ready to shoot out gallons of wine. But not sure she should. It didn’t seem as if Anat did anything wrong. But what was going on?
Alana entered the elevator. Anat exited the building.
Alana texted Marc as she rode up. She relayed what went on. Marc said he’d meditate on the situation.

Alana has a sick aunt residing on the upper east side. She’s elderly and has mobility and other issues. Mentally she’s still sound. They’ve been using Zoom to communicate during the Covid-19. Her aunt told her how she’s been getting her groceries delivered. She noted that her recent delivery contained several free boxes of raisins and some apricots.

Alana’s mind quickly thought of Anat. She started to twitch. She asked if all of the groceries were wrapped tightly and if she ate any of the food. Aunt Matilda said yes. She said she felt fine.

Alana ran this my Marc. They remembered seeing Anat all cleaned up during the Weird Wolves online gig. Could she now be helping people? Could she be trusted? Did their beating of her a few weeks ago change her? Many questions need to be answered. The two of them needed to get out of QT.

Anat in her mask and rubber gloves continued her grocery deliveries. She always added her favorite as a bonus. She felt good for the first time in her life.

Marc and Alana plotted how they would check on Anat. They don’t even know if she was the delivery person. But the odds of a random coincidence are too high for Anat to deliver groceries to Alana’s aunt.

Anat went home and logged onto her office computer. She chatted with a few coworkers and asked how they were. They were shocked. No one ever talked to Anat. She just emailed in her work. Occasionally, she did a presentation online. That was about it. They were shocked out how chic she looked. None of those people knew about dried fruit antics and the wars she raged. They didn’t even know she went to camp. A few of them did. Every time they made chit chat about their times in summer camp Anat kept quiet.

Marc and Alana knew Matilda’s next delivery was this coming Friday. Probably around 10:00 a.m. They wondered if they could go out? They were not typical humans.   Did their powers make them not susceptible to Covid-19? They were not sure if they were willing to chance it. But they had their craziness so they just might.

 

 

Many of you may remember when Michael Jackson wore gloves and a mask. And when he moonwalked on your TV screen when you were about 14. We all tried it.

But one can bet when he was done with his mask and gloves they were thrown away.

During the last few weeks, we’ve watched dozens of people walking the streets in this garb.

Rubber gloves. Not the white sequined glove, Michael wore.

We’ve seen Nike and other companies producing masks. Soon we will see them on sale at Bloomingdales.

I suppose the Ralph Lauren masks will go for about $500. While the Versace gloves will retail for around $800. I want a Lacoste set.

That being said, what I do not want and what I hope my readers do not want are to see rubbers gloves and surgical masks on the street. Some supermarkets are requesting people wear their PPE upon entering. Fine. Wear them. And when you exit the market, wear it until you get home or find a trash receptacle.

In the last few days, when going to buy essentials — toothpaste, light bulbs and Twizzlers, I saw dozens upon dozens of these items in the street and stuffed into plant life. I’ve seen people walk out of the stores and drop them on the pavement.

Let’s have some consideration. While you think you’re protecting yourself. Think about everyone else. I remember after a scout camping trip when we were leaving our site we policed the area. We stood arms distance apart. Early social distancing and walked around the site and picked up any garbage. We always strived to leave our site better than we found it.

Let’s try to do that now.