Unless and Until

As we embark on this truly dangerous time in our City, I find myself getting livid when I see the various armchair quarterbacks commenting on the news, on social media, and even in casual conversation about what the police should do.
Never before has a profession had so many sideline experts shouting at them for the way they handle themselves; never has a noble profession been so reviled.
I AM DONE.
And here's my warning: UNLESS AND UNTIL YOU ARE WILLING TO GO OUT, STRAP ON THAT BULLET-PROOF VEST, SAY GOOD-BYE TO YOUR FAMILY ONLY TO NOT BE SURE OF A SAFE OR SWIFT RETURN, TO SERVE THOSE WHO DO NOT APPRECIATE YOU...TO ENCOUNTER DANGER...TO NOT HAVE THE SUPPORT OF YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS...TO SLEEP ON A COT/ON THE FLOOR/IN A CHAIR...TO BE AFRAID...TO SWEAT IN 40 LBS OF GEAR...TO NOT KNOW WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE ABLE TO EAT A MEAL AGAIN...TO CHOKE DOWN A MEAL WHILE STANDING AND LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER...UNLESS AND UNTIL YOU ARE WILLING TO DO ALL THAT AND MORE THE TIME HAS COME TO SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I watched my husband pack five days of clothes last night; I had to wake my son up to take him to the train at 4am, then try and get him back to sleep, not understanding why Daddy has to go in at that time (the trains are not running around the clock as they were pre-quarantine) not knowing the danger that lurks in the corners of our once beloved City.
My City in ruins.
As far as useless Bill de Blah Blah goes: my wish for him cannot be written here, as it derives from the blackest corner of my heart.
As far as friends and family go: unless and until...please don't say a word.
I'm shouting in the above, and I'm screaming inside. Right now is the time for support or silence.
That is all.

Living History

Since the minute this awful pandemic began making headway in the NYC area, I've heard people encourage me to journal; to make or take notes, to save the headlines, to encourage my son (now 6) to doodle, draw, or journal about the history we are quite literally living through right now.
Hate to tell you: it doesn't work that way.
Perhaps it does for some. I'm sure there are writers all curled up in their designated Book Nooks right now, creating great prose that will speak to an entire generation about their experience.
That's not me.
Thursday night, a member of the custodial staff at my husband's building died. My husband knew him and said he was a nice guy. Excepting the obvious (if he's been exposed, surely my husband has been...) I had a hard time with this information. It made the unreal real. It made me sad and angry in equal measure.
It made me break out the good wine the minute my son fell asleep.
There is so little we can do right now. The helpless feeling is the absolute worst part of this moment in time, the knowing that we don't know.
We don't know what's going to happen next.
We don't know when the kids are going to go back to school.
We don't know who has it/who doesn't/who's been infected/who has seasonal allergies but right now feels like a leper if they sneeze in a five mile radius of anyone.
I know: I've been washing my hands constantly.
I know: God is still in control.
I know: that I don't know a whole lot.
After all, I'm living history right now, and if I know one thing for sure it's that history always looks different in the rear view mirror.

Happy Columbus Day

It's a sight to see: walking down Fifth Avenue in New York City, left and right, people...some tourists, some not...all of them waving flags and clapping, smiles a mile wide across their faces.
It lifted me up as my initial feeling about this day was tempered by all that's going on in the world right now; the social justice warriors online, insisting that a day precious to Italian-Americans should be changed to a day with another name...a sadness I couldn't shake as I wondered what my son would eventually learn in school about this Holiday.
I proceeded with my son's hand placed firmly in my own. His eyes grew wide as he took in the crowds, the pomp, the circumstance. Not to mention the entire contingency of the NYPD that came out to celebrate.
My heart ached and my mind began thinking about the day that I would have to explain to him that not everybody liked or respected the police as much as we do. 
I set it aside and marched alongside my husband. I took in the sights and sounds and smells of the day and focused on the good.
I determined to get through this parade without shedding a single tear.
Towards the very end, uptown, near the bleachers, a man made me break this ridiculous promise.
As we walked by, he leaned over the barricade and shouted, "Thank You Officers, for keeping us safe!"
He was a black man, bald and bespectacled, and we made eye contact for just a moment.
His outer layer fell away as I saw his heart.
And of course, I began to cry.
Because in the midst of all the furor over what we should call this day and the constant opinions of those who could never do my husband's job (not even for a day) there was this simple acknowledgement.
And I smiled.
Through tears, I smiled.

Nice to See

We went to an amusement park this past weekend; a quick trip, a short getaway, a moment to see my kid's face light up...well worth the price of admission.
After we had already parked, we noticed this sign up closer to the front entrance, and I felt compelled to take a picture.
It was nice to see.
Nice to see in a country so divided that we've forgotten who the Super Heroes are.
Nice to see days before we are reminded, yet again, of those who gave their lives for our freedoms.
Those Super Heroes that are now and forever frozen in time...they'll never get older, they'll never feel what the rest of us are already feeling...the dread hanging over this space in time...tomorrow...a day we can't dismiss, or forget, or take away from.
I know I'll shed my share of tears tomorrow. Being so close to the event that changed us all forever, I find it impossible not to feel some sense of reverence, as well as a hefty dose of nostalgia, for the way things once were.
I pray that you will remember the Super Heroes.
I know I'll be thinking about them all day.
#NYPDFamily