Indian Summer
Midst a most glorious Indian Summer that stretched right into the second week of November, New York City was gifted with a perfect day for the return of the NYC Marathon, which saw exuberant cheerleaders line the streets for the intrepid runners:
(Some overly exuberant citizens could not refrain from dancing)
And then, the following day, I began to hear French, German, Dutch and other tongues along Broadway and on the Brooklyn Bridge, as the city welcomed back European visitors after a 14–month hiatus.
This past Thursday I rode from Harlem to the south end of the island with Marlon, Joe, and Jayron, three Miami friends on their first trip to NYC. We ran smack dab into the middle of the Veteran’s Day parade, and I was so glad that these fellows could experience the city returning to its madcap energy.
The blessing of Indian Summer days has since NYC’s birth always been Janus-faced, for the telltale haze associated with many Indian Summer weather conditions once originated in massive prairie fires.Â
Just as the mercury is meant to hit the upper 60s again this week come very troubling clouds on the horizon, both here:Â
and abroad:
Coming down Broadway through Times Square with those Florida friends, the jumbo screens screamed a dozen distractions, like the imminent announcement of Moderna’s earnings, but my wish for all the visitors coming in this lingering Indian Summer to see Broadway shows, the Rockefeller Center tree, and Fifth Avenue windows is that they make a pilgrimage to sit at the feet of the Angel of Bethesda, and listen for her insights and intuitions about the direction from which true healing from the scourge of Corona Time might come.