July was one of the strangest months I’ve seen in NYC. The pandemic is “under control” but everyone is wearing masks. A necessary but bizarre and disturbing daily reality. The protests continue on. It’s been over two months since the first protest in New York, on May 30. Protestors are much more organized now. There has been a lot of legislative change and massive increase in public awareness of systemic racism, so the protestors have succeeded in their initial aims, but clearly the desire for real change has not been met yet.
Homelessness is a growing problem. An estimated 20% of New Yorkers are unemployed, and it’s uncertain whether the pandemic rent protection will continue much longer. Indeed, parts of the protection plan have ended. I am very concerned about what will happen as more New Yorkers lose their homes.
On the bright side, outdoor dining has taken over some New York streets, bringing a sense of unreality as people eat, drink, and be merry in the sunshine. Once seated at the table, the masks come off, and it seems like life is back to normal. I met with the brunch gang for the first time since March. Most of my friends have been in strict quarantine since the pandemic began. The company and decadently indulgent food and wine at Osteria 57 made us feel glad to be alive. The feast was capped with complementary canoli and the above-pictured espresso martinis. Almost worth waiting 4 months for.
And in the most unusual July 4th celebration, the city shot off fireworks from the top of the Empire State Building. It was quite a symbol of our times to see the Empire exploding. A clever idea, of course, to allow a modest celebration that all New Yorkers could view, from all over the city, without crowding the streets as is the custom for July 4th firework viewing.
I feel a heavy dread in my heart, and it has been difficult to write anything for this blog, as I usually have something positive to share. As REM said so stirringly, it’s the end of the world as we know it, but I don’t feel fine.
On top of the global and city-wide events, our building is mourning the loss of our beloved doorman Moss Kuqi, who died in June of a heart attack. He was a welcoming beacon of joy to many who live here, and I always felt uplifted by his warm greeting when I returned home. I miss him dearly. Blessings on your spirit, dear Moss.
