I was standing on line at the liquor store in my neighborhood a
few days
back, and in front of me was a couple.
The man was purchasing a lot of wine.
Their bill was over $60. The man
told the worker, “Ya’know, we’re stocking up for the coronary.” We all burst out laughing. I’m sure he didn’t mean that, but that’s how
it came out.
He turned around to see who was laughing. We all were. He recognized
the man behind me. They slapped five and did fancy handshakes,
and hugged. My eyeballs bulged at all
the hand contact they had. The
girlfriend looked at me, and I said, “So much hand touching.” She agreed and told him, “You were just
talking about that.” He didn’t seem to
connect it. Then I contributed, “That
was a lot of hand touching.” He replied,
“Oh no, we’re cured. If you were in
Orchard Beach water, you’re cured.”
Some laughed, but I didn’t.
It concerns me, and, at the same time, I love
the humor and coping of my
brother and sister Bronxites.
I was reminded of when the deportations began to be a daily
fear. I was
in a store in my
neighborhood. The Mexican man behind the
counter was telling an African customer, “You better speak good English, or they
will deport you.” While I was horrified
at what was happening to so many families, they were laughing. I admire the ability to endure, which is the
definition of strength.
As a comic, I should be able to make jokes about the madness,
but my
process is so much slower it seems.
From horrifying to funny takes more time for me.
This evening I had to go to the store. I also had to ask for credit. This is not easy for me. I feel embarrassed and just find it
hard. But I did. The Arab bodega nearby, that I’ve frequented
for years, has been so good to me. They
gave me credit with a nonjudgmental and generous attitude, and I now have bread
and peanut butter (and, I’m ashamed to say, cigarettes). What a relief. I needed something other than the pasta and
sauce I have.
I’m glad I don’t date. I’ve
lived through our people dying in the Vietnam
War, race riots, 9/11, the AIDS crisis. With AIDS, we had to worry about exchanging bodily
fluids. But now, with the Coronavirus,
we are supposed to stay 6 feet away from one another. There’s no penis or condom that long.
I’m likely going to announce the cancellation of the 3/20
comedy show on City Island. It saddens
me a lot, but it just may have to be. It’s
still up in the air.
Safety and love to CGG-M. 💞
