It’s windy and cold in Brooklyn this morning. A full moon that seems to have partied all night still glows like a silver dollar over this swindled city. In these early hours of the morning, we await another Bernard Madoff hearing. Many hope he goes to jail, but this is New York and there is a full moon.
The ruby sky of clear morning turns from blood to pale blue in the time it takes to drink a cup of espresso or lose a fortune– an indication that at least the sun will shine today.
I’ve been walking the city every day now, thinking I may soon have to move from here, having lost my job. My hike across the Brooklyn Bridge takes me into downtown Manhattan and the trail to my gym goes right by Federal Plaza.
The walks of reflection feel good– the fresh air– and of course the gym, now today– all the drama!
I recommend to anyone suffering in these times of depression to get outside more. This is New York– always something going on here.
Go downtown to the Federal Courthouse and watch Mr. Madoff head inside. Shout something that the Fox and CNN microphones will pick up–
“Hey Madoff! I love you. All of Wall Street is one giant ponzi scheme, isn’t it? Tell them to get over it, Bernie! They’d still be kissing your fat ass if it were not for that housing bubble! At least you gave to charities and politicians. That’s more than what I can say for most investors. Jesus still loves you Madoff and those clothes are fierce!”
I passed that building yesterday, on my way to the New York Sports Club in Soho. During the off-peak hours of 9 a.m. – 11: a.m. I am permitted to use my Gold Status membership card at any New York Sports club in the city. I feel that networking opportunities for a job is ideal in Soho and I must say, I look pretty good considering I have been working out every day for three months now.
Yesterday the fog was so thick upon the East River, surrounding the Brooklyn bridge that the light fixtures along the wooden walkway were lit during the day. I thought of a story I wrote of my grandfather walking into the fog as a seagull sailed without moving a wing from the tip of the stone cathedral towers into the white, foggy abyss of the chilly river below.
I have walked that bridge almost every day now since joining the masses of the unemployed. Every day I see something new up there– a new revelation about life occurs to me.
I ran into social work intern Larry Scheingold from my old job up there. Larry was on his bike and I was just walking in the fog.
“Oh my God! How weird!”
We exchanged brief summaries of our lives since working at the Youth Counseling League together. Larry works at a state psychiatric ward in Coney Island now.
“Well good for you Larry. Someone’s gotta take care of them,” I said as Larry readjusted his helmet, still as shocked as I was that in a city of nine million, that one can still bump into what are like honest investors in life up there.
Larry– a Black jew. You see it all in New York.
I better hurry. Madoff is scheduled to be in court at 10 a.m. and that trainer from the New York Sports Club in Soho who has been helping me despite my lack of personal training sessions starts work at 11:00. He has no clue that I only have a gold membership. I pretend I live in Soho though– just like Bernard Madoff, I give off the image that I’m something else– like perhaps I am interested in purchasing $30 personal training sessions, but I only pretend I’m somebody working out there– listening to all the suggestions, the flirting, the lure– I swear, if I had the money, I’d buy a tri-pac of those thirty minute sessions.
Not many people were on the bridge in the fog yesterday, but there was Larry Scheingold. The strangest coincidence– I shall write of this, I thought– it was a sign perhaps, or maybe just something to write about.