Broadway After Curfew
It's now rattled our windows and shaken our walls. I don't think I will ever forget the despair-to-hope ride of the past seven days for the rest of my life. They say you forget pandemics. The worry subsides and the world returns to normal. I'm always taken aback when someone doesn't recall the AIDS crisis, especially in New York City. I fully expect for Covid-19 to recede quickly into the recesses of our minds, once it packs its bags and moves on.
But the power harnessed by the people in our streets protesting peacefully is stunning. The tipping point is in our rear view mirror, but we don't fully trust it yet. And there's so much still to fight for.
The curfews this week have been yet another chapter in "2020: How Surreal Can It Get." Tonight, itching to flout, but mostly hoping to soak in my strange neighborhood, I took a bike ride through the Upper West Side. Below are some images from that ride. As much as I want my city back and for the virus to remain under control, I also want the roots of what is happening to go down deep and buckle the macadam, rendering the old byways unpassable and forcing us to lay down new ones.
It's almost as if the fact that we were apart enabled so many to become a part of this. Certainly the fact of our limbo helped hasten the outrage about the senseless murder of George Floyd, galvanized by the inequities of Covid's toll.
I'm still thinking about Ex Uno Plures and E Pluribus Unum. Written only two months ago. I find myself believing that it's coming to fruition before our eyes. But "2020: How Surreal Can It Get" has many a chapter to go.
The first images I noted were these solemn panels -- memorials to victims of police brutality. If you haven't heard Janelle Monáe's song, it is what was going through my head when I saw these blades.
(Keep scrolling down for more images; to view the gallery properly, click on the blog title to view it online).
After 8 p.m., no through traffic is permitted south of 96th Street these days. I rode freely up the middle of the avenue toward home past a deserted 87th Street.
Below, a police officer checks in with a driver and let's him pass.