May Day - 2014

May Day 2014 I was sitting at my desk in the Fort Greene observatory. I knew today was an important labor holiday, but I wish that I was working and traveled up to Manhattan's Diamond District to visit my longtime boss from the Diamond District.

"I wish I could give you a job, but there's no business." said the eighty-two year-old diamond dealer and he was right. No one was walking into the exchange.

"The rich have taken all the money and don't want to spend it. All they know is how to gather it." I had graduated sine laude as an economic major in college forty years ago.

"I guess you have to blame it on someone." Manny was an old curmudgeon, but I had counted on him for a job since 1989.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you worked all your life and never prepared for a moment like this." He had lived through the tailend of the Greater Recession. People my age back then had been out of work in the millions. Same as today.

"I was lucky to have a job with you these last years." I had worked for Manny as a salesman on and off since 1990. There had been some good years. None of those were recent.

"And you can't find another job."

"I only know diamonds and writing."

"And you have never made any money on your books."

"You have that right and now everyone around the world are wage slaves grinding out a subsistent living. Workers have no rights."

"And neither do I."

"It wasn't always that way. Once there was a marriage between labor and capital. Years ago unions protected the workers. Union instituted the forty-hour week, the end to child labor, and other workers’s rights, but since Reagan broke up the Air Controllers Union the GOP has been destroying every aspect of workers' rights."

"The Democrats aren't much better."

"We're on our own." I shrugged and made to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To the 169 Bar in Chinatown. They have $2 beers."

"Have a good May Day."

I showed him the clenched fist and headed to the subway, thinking that over the years I had belonged to three unions; IBEW for the telephone company, IBT driving taxi in Boston, and the union of drifters, yet I believed in the power of labor and every May 1 the workers of the world march to show their solidarity.

Originally the day was a pagan holiday for the first day of spring, although in a different month than the present Julian calendar. Peasants adherents to the old religions danced around the Maypole. The Catholic Church suppressed the practice by naming May the month of Mary. As a child at parochial school outside Boston the nuns paraded us around the church with the girls wearing white dresses and flowers in their hair. The boys in white jackets and slacks. Parents snapped photos of their angelic children with Kodak Brownie cameras.

Years later we abandoned this pious procession to march in the May Day protests against the Cambodian Bombings.

1969-1970.

Washington, Nixon talking to the protesters, four dead at Kent State.

May Day for the Left traditionally honored the seven Haymarket anarchists executed for participation in Chicago’s Haymarket Riot of 1886.

May ,1 1886 had been the start date for the eight-hour day. Big business wasn’t happy with this new law and workers staged a series of protests. Anarchists met in Haymarket Square. The gathering had been peaceful until someone threw a bomb into the police ranks, killing one officer. In the ensuing violence more died on both sides.

Hence ‘bombing-throwing anarchist’ entered the American lexicon.

The subsequent trial of eight anarchists had been prosecuted on hearsay accusations. Evidence revealing the involvement of the Pinkerton Detective Agency in the bombing hadn't prevent the death sentence for seven of the accused. Public pressure for leniency forced the governor of Illinois to commute the capital charges against two ‘conspirators’. On the eve of the execution Louis Lingg offed himself by exploding a dynamite cap in his mouth.

The remaining four, Spies, Parsons, Fischer, and Engel were publicly hung, but not before they sang the Marseillaise, the anthem of the international revolutionary movement. All eight were exonerated in 1893 and May 1 became a rally day for labor throughout the world, although in the USA it is called Loyalty Day.

Thailand gives the day off to workers, 70% who have decent jobs say they are happy with their present situation. Others are less so.

In honor of the Haymarket martyrs I’m taking the day off too.

Sadly it's not by choice.

Power to the people.

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT 2014

Last night was New Year's Eve.

A redheaded poetess phoned to invite me to a 20-something party in Bushwick.

"You'll be the oldest man there." Irene was going solo.

"Almost three times older." We were just friends.

"I think of you as 16." She had seen me being silly on more than one occasion.

"I like to think of myself as 15." I was really immature when it came to watching sports in a New York City.

I hated Jets fans and Ranger fans were no bargain.

"You're much older than that, plus most of the 'boys' at this party act like ten year-olds." Irene liked older men. She was 26, but still more than two times younger than me in actual years.

"I know." Even thirty year-old men were more like teenagers. Nothing had ever happened in their lives. It wasn't their fault, however the lack of life experience angered them upon hearing my monologues of 'back then'. "I'll think about coming."

"It's just another night and you've had plenty of those." Irene was wiser than her years. She was only foolish in love.

Same as me.

I hung up and returned to watching ZATOICHI THE BLIND SWORDSMAN. I was episode 23 of the TV series. The blind masseur gambled with cheats. He scammed them one by one. They paid with their honor. The sun was setting over Brooklyn. Two bottles of wine were in my fridge. I could take one to the party. It didn't start until 9.

After the end of episode 26 TRAVELING ALONE I decided to go out. I hadn't left the house on South Oxford for over a day. The night wasn't as cold and I walked down to Mullanes. Will was behind the bar. The bearded bartender had gone out on a date with Irene. They had had a good time.

"What will you drink?" asked the Islander fan.

"A Six Point Lager." It was made in Red Hook. "And put on the Bruins-Fishmen hockey game."

"Sure thing."

Will left at 7. The face-off was at 7:05. The Bruins had a 1-0 lead by the end of the 1st period. I know no one in the bar. Most everyone was stuffing their faces. The two young men beside me spoke with Valley Girl accents. They drank Chablis. I texted Irene that I was staying home.

"Love."

She liked an economy of words.

I went home and cooked a pasta of bacon, mushrooms, and gruyere with a butter-garlic-olive oil sauce.

At 8 I called Thailand.

My daughter was having her 10th birthday. Her mother sounded happy. Angie never speaks with me on the phone.

"Tell her I love her."

"She knows that."

Next I phoned Fenway's mom. Our kids were having a good time with fireworks in Ban Nok. None of them wanted to speak with Pa-Pa. I was on the other side of the world.

"Love you," I told Mam.

"I love you too." We haven't seen each in a year.

2013 was a tough one.

I hung up and poured myself a glass of wine.

ZATOICHI drank sake. He killed yakuza by the hundreds. 9-8-3 made up the word 'yakuza'. It added up to a losing hand in hana-fuda. 2013 was 6. Six or Liù meant wealth in Chinese. Its Cantonese annunciation 'lok' signifies a drop.

2013 was certainly a drop in wealth in my life.

I had another glass of wine, then Wikipedia solicited a donation.

I use that website everyday. It saves me a trip to the Main Library on 5th Avenue. I wasn't hitting the bars tonight. Frank's Lounge was asking $20. I gave Wikipedia a little more.

At midnight I heard the fireworks from the river.

I ate a chocolate and finished my wine.

It was the end of my second glass.

ZATOICHI killed some more yakuza. They were bad men.

I felt good about giving money.

2014 added up to 7.

7 was good luck in every language.

ZATOICHI knows that.

To see Zatoichi, Flashing Sword Cut, please got to the following URL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m09S48JSK4

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT 2014

From 2014

Last night was New Year's Eve.

My redheaded poetess friend Irene phoned to invite me to a 20-something party in Bushwick.

"You'll be the oldest man there." Irene was going solo.

"Almost three times older." We were just friends.

"I think of you as 16." She had witnessed my silliness on more than one occasion.

"I like to think of myself as 15." I was really immature when it came to watching sports in a New York City. I hated Jets fans and Ranger fans were no bargain.

"You're much older than that, plus most of the 'boys' at this party act like ten year-olds." Irene liked older men. She was 26, but still more than two times younger than me in actual years.

"I know." Even thirty year-old men were more like teenagers. Nothing had ever happened in their lives. It wasn't their fault, however the lack of life experience angered them upon hearing my monologues of 'back then'. "I'll think about coming."

"It's just another night and you've had plenty of those." Irene was wiser than her years. She was only foolish in love.

Same as me.

I hung up and returned to watching ZATAOCHI THE BLIND SWORDSMAN, episode 23 of the TV series. The blind masseur gambled with cheats. He scammed them one by one. They paid with their honor. The sun was setting over Brooklyn. Two bottles of wine were in my fridge. I could take one to the party. It didn't start until 9.

After the end of episode 26 TRAVELING ALONE I decided to go out. I hadn't left the house on South Oxford for over a day. The night wasn't as cold and I walked down to Mullanes. Will was behind the bar. The bearded bartender had gone out on a date with Irene. They had had a good time.

"What will you drink?" asked the Islander fan.

"A Six Point Lager." It was made in Red Hook. "And put on the Bruins-Fishmen hockey game."

"Sure thing."

Will left at 7. The face-off was at 7:05. The Bruins had a 1-0 lead by the end of the 1st period. I know no one in the bar. Most everyone was stuffing their faces. The two young men beside me spoke with Valley Girl accents. They drank Chablis. I texted Irene that I was staying home.

"Love."

She liked an economy of words.

I went home and cooked a pasta of bacon, mushrooms, and gruyere with a butter-garlic-olive oil sauce.

At 8 I called Thailand.

My daughter was having her 10th birthday. Her mother sounded happy. Angie never speaks with me on the phone.

"Tell her I love her."

"She knows that."

Next I phoned Fenway's mom. Our kids were having a good time with fireworks in Ban Nok. None of them wanted to speak with Pa-Pa. I was on the other side of the world.

"Love you," I told Mam.

"I love you too." We haven't seen each in a year.

2013 was a tough one.

I hung up and poured myself a glass of wine.

ZATOICHI drank sake. He killed yakuza by the hundreds. 9-8-3 made up the word 'yakuza'. It added up to a losing hand in hana-fuda. 2013 was 6. Six or Li? meant wealth in Chinese. Its Cantonese annunciation 'lok' signifies a drop.

2013 was certainly a drop in wealth in my life.

I had another glass of wine, then Wikipedia solicited a donation.

I use that website everyday. It saves me a trip to the Main Library on 5th Avenue. I wasn't hitting the bars tonight. Frank's Lounge was asking $20. I gave Wikipedia a little more.

At midnight I heard the fireworks from the East River.

I ate a chocolate and finished my wine.

It was the end of my second glass.

ZATOICHI killed some more yakuza. They were bad men.

I felt good about giving money.

2014 added up to 7.

7 was good luck in every language.

ZATOICHI knows that math.

ps Good night Irene.

I've always wanted to say that.

ops The Islanders beat the Bruins 5-3.

Go figure.

To see Zatoichi, Flashing Sword Cut, please got to the following URL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m09S48JSK4

Out Of Work -2014

I haven't had a job since the New Year.

I have looked for work without success.

Men my age are viewed as refuges from the retirement roles.

I have retired many times in my life.

I have unretired as many times as well.

Yesterday I sought employment on 47th Street. I know diamonds. Everyone was crying the blues. Passover was a tough of year for selling jewelry, partially because April 15th is Tax Day.

I called the metal shop. Mr. Tem wasn't hiring until May.

I phoned several galleries.

Goose eggs.

It's a tough time, but not for the rich.

They never sing the blues.

Rain, Sleet, and Snow - North Fork Virginia 2012

Back in 2012 St. Padraic's Day was blessed with spring weather. The next day Sunday was even warmer, as I traveled south to the Northern Neck of the Potomac to meet with Ms. Carolina. She was not faring well and wanted to see me one last time. Her husband Charles thought it was a good idea.

I flew to Ronald Reagan airport and rented a car. Once free of the Beltway I-95 the traffic eased on the interstate. It was smooth sailing to the Fredericksburg, where the 20th Maine had been massacred by the Rebels attacking St. Marye's Height. I turned east onto Route 3 headed to Ms. Virginia's beach house. This was the South under the reign of Barack Obama. Confederate flags hang from the poles in the town squares. That was to be expected in Dixie, but it was peaceful.

Charles and Ms. Carolina's summer house was on the Neck's northern shore. Ragged Point Beach lay on the Potomac. Maryland began at the high water jetsam on the sand. I pulled before their house. The two were waiting at the end of a dock. No boat in the water. A super-sized moon rose over the eastern horizon of the Chesapeake Bay and the equinox sun set to the west below a screen of yellow pines. The lilting breeze promised an early spring. Ms. Virginia did not look well and she moved with pain. The blonde huntress confided that she might not make the autumn.

The cancer had torched her body and she showed me how bad.

"Guess winter is over." I stared into the Potomac. The temperature was in the 70s. The water had to be much colder. The spring equinox was two days away. There was no backing out. This was for Ms. Carolina.

"Hush your mouth," Ms. Carolina's dog, Spot, barked at her side. Her husband and she had lived in Virginia over thirty-five years. Her childhood was spent in the Adirondacks, where winter holds onto the cold and snow for a month longer than anyplace else in the North, except Fort Kent, Maine.

"I have a good feeling for new season." I flexed my knuckles. They had been weapons in the hundreds of fights waged over the decades. No cracking meant dry weather. Snap, crackle, pop was a good indication of wet.

"You goin' in now, Yankee?"

"Naw, but tomorrow for sure."

"You hungry?"

"Very."

Mrs. Virginia was a great cook. She went to bed early. Charles and I drank whiskey. We didn't say much. Men like us were good at that.

My knuckles were right about the moisture, however the temperature had dropped through the night. Frozen dawn dew glazed the lawn. My better judgment argued against the plunge, but after a suburb breakfast of sausages, eggs, and grits, Ms. Virginia, Charles, her dog and I walked to end of the dock. Maryland was across the Potomac. I lifted the thermometer from the river.

39 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cold

I stripped to my bathing suit. Ms. Virginia held a towel for after my swim. Charles a glass and a bottle of Dewars.

"Are you going to do this, Yankee."

"Hell, yeah." The Maine side of my family had fought in the Civil War. Where I didn't know.

He filled the glass and I down the whiskey. It burned down my throat. I returned the glass to Charles.

"I want another once I'm out of the water."

"It will be waiting." Charles was a friend. We never talked about Ms. Virginia and me. He was a gentleman that way and I was happy to see he wasn't carrying his .38. leapt off the dock.

The water was more than cold. My fingers went numb.

My arms scratched frantically at the water. I scrambled up the dock. I had been in the water

Ms. Virginia laughed, Spot barked, and Charles , who had timed my immersion, said, "Crazy Yankee, you lasted seventeen second." I scrambled up the ladder and Barbara handed me the towel. Charles was quick to offer the whiskey. It went down even quicker.

"You one crazy Yankee," repeated Charles.

"Anything for a laugh."

"How long you think you could have survived in that water?" Charles had been an officer in the Navy during WWII. His friends had cruised the North Atlantic in warships. Not all of them returned home to Newport News.

As a child I had lived on Portland Harbor. Fishing boats docked at the and of my street. Every winter the fleet lost a boat. I had heard tell of some people lasting up to forty minutes.

My grandfather had a friend on the Titanic. He drowned in the Atlantic. My grandfather traveled to St. John’s to identify the body. It had been battered by the sea.

"I think I might be able to last five minutes, but not today." I shook off the chill from my core, but the extremities were still cold.

"Once was more than enough."

It had been worth seeing Barbara laugh and she said, "Be my eyes on your travels."

"That I will." It wasn't a promise. Only the truth. The following day I drove back to DC on Ms. Virginia's suggestion up US 301 across the Potomac. Maryland wasn't Virginia, but it was still the South. She was a good traveling companion during out affair in the 1990s. Wyoming, Montana, the Blue Ridge Mountains, Death Valley, Guatemala and Peru.

Back in Fort Greene, Brooklyn the sweep of the season reversed from spring to winter. Snow fell on Tuesday night and Wednesday evening was a melange of hail, snow, and rain. I wore heavy tweeds impervious to the cold and wet. Even my knuckles were safe from the chilly damp in cashmere-lined gloves. Ice pellets bounced over my Donegal cap. I was ready for more winter, but not another two months of it and the next weekend the forecast was for more snow.

Barbara lasted till the autumn. I asked if I should come down. She said no. That as the last word I heard from her. Charles lasted longer. I visited him in 2015. We went to her grave. We said nothing and that night drank Dewars.

"You crazy Yankee."

"That I am."

We spoke on the phone every week. About football. His Redskins and my Patriots. He passed in 2017. I miss them both

But not that damn cold.

To see my plunge

Johnny Utah - 2014 - Yee Hah

Ten years ago Austin Kilmer, Latt, his brother, and I left the diamond exchange on West 47th and went to Johnny Utah, a hoorah drinking bar with a robo bronco off Rockefeller Center. Packed with marketing junior execs. Having a good time, forgetting they hate their bosses. Same as me, a 61 year old diamond salesman A couple of tequilas later I was in the saddle ready to rock. Yeehah. Maybe four seconds. No broken bones.

Voting For No One

The results of the 2014 midterm elections ran heavily in favor of the GOP.

Harvard University estimated that a little over 21.3% of the registered electorate voted on Tuesday, meaning that the control of the Senate hinged on 1-2% of the vote. Millions stayed away from the ballot. The young, the old, blacks, conservatives, radicals, single women et al refrained from making their mark at the polling booth.

I work up early and cast my vote for the Green Party.

I wished that "None of the Above' was a choice, so that I didn't have to vote Democratic.

Obviously 80% of the voters made that choice by abstaining participation in the election.

Thus stands the state of democracy in the USA.

No one votes, because voting doesn't change anything.

The rich always win in the end.

But the pigs don't look like movie stars.

They just look like pigs.

Same as everyone else.

Waking From The Dead To The GOP Dawn

In 1990 a 747 landed on Biak. Me and a missionary got off the plane. He caught an island-hopper to a large island across the bay. I crossed the street to hire a room at the Old Dutch Hotel. The teenage bellhop led me to a room facing the sea.

Its color was slate blue.

I tipped the young boy $1.

It was a day's wage.

"Saya nama Ali."

"Cold beer."

Ali understood Indonesian and I rapidly leafed a conversation book.

"Beer dinging."

Ali nodded his head.

Five minutes later he returned with a large Bintang beer. I drank it watching dusk drift from east to west across Cendarwasih Bay. Night swam with the tropics. I fell asleep and woke in the morning grateful to be in a new world.

On Wednesday I rose from bed knowing the GOP had wrangled a majority in the Senate.

My side won small.

Despair was an easy way to spent the day, but marijuana initiatives had passed in several states as well as the rights of gay to get married. The GOP was smart not to fight these battles. Voters stayed at home. There is no ignorance greater than that of those who don't care about anything.

It was dusk and it's always darkest before it gets darker.

There is no new world.

The GOP will try to reverse time.

God and I mean the Jehovah God will rule on every law.

The 10 Commandments shall replace the Constitution.

Slavery will be reintroduced to teach blacks how good they had it under the whip.

All prisons will be renamed Hell and there is no redemption from Hell.

The Bible shall be the only schoolbook regardless of creed, race, or sex.

Women will receive half the pay of men.

They will not be able to go to college.

Drinking shall be banned from coast to coast.

Pot will be napalmed by fire squads.

Homosexuals shall be thrown into a pit packed with dogs on Viagra.

Children will be whipped in public for disobeying their parents.

All wind mills and solar energy panels will be destroyed by their owners or else.

Coal mining and tracking will be expanded to every state of the Union without any restrictions.

Anyone not believing in God will go to prison.

Anyone talking with a lisp will go to prison.

Anyone found not having sex in the missionary position will go to prison.

The President of Israel will rule from the White House.

The 10 Commandments shall be tattooed on the inside of everyone's eyelids, so they see the holy words whenever they shut their eyes. There is no rest for the wicked.

We shall dig a new canal along the Mexican border and fill it with our toxic waste fluids to prevent any underaged teenagers from entering the country.

All books on science shall be burned in the town square.

The rich shall become richer and the poor shall be put into labor camps constructing the toxic waste canal.

Public transportation shall be banned throughout the country.

Trains shall be used strictly for the transport of toxic waste heading to the border canal.

All factories with union employees shall be closed and the workers sent to re-education camps to become wage slaves for the toxic waste canal.

The minimum wage shall be reduced to $1 to reinforce the value of a dollar.

Anyone speaking about Global Warming shall go to GITMO, the new mega-prison for the unconvertible.

Everyone must have a gun and use them daily.

Needless to say going back in time will take a lot of work for the GOP, but they are dedicated to changing the world to back the way it was, so God will hasten the Final Days and everyone who deserves it will get to go to heaven.

I can only hope that the Apocalypse comes soon, because then the right-minded people of America can be vacuumed into eternity by the angels.

And good riddance to every one of the bible-thumpers.

Germany Versus Argentina

On December 13, 1939 Argentina officials ordered the German heavy cruiser Graf Spee to sea. The ensuing battle between the British Navy resulted in the later scuttling of the Graf Spee. A week later Captain Langsdorff shot himself dressed in full dress uniform and lying on the ship's battle ensign. Today those two nations meet in the 2014 World Cup. Germany has lost to Argentina in 1986 and won in 1990. I've watched most of the World Cup fixtures over the past weeks. I haven't had a job. Thankfully I had the World Cup. It remains the beautiful game.

Cold Is Warm

The National Weather Bureau announced that the winter of 2014 was the coldest recorded in modern history. Having lived through a weary long season of frigid temperatures, multiple snowstorms, and a delayed Spring I am happy to see a few flowers in the gardens of Fort Greene and leaves sprouting from the trees lining Lafayette Street. At night the chill in the air holds the threat of snow in May. We have passed through the worst of it, but yesterday Rapid City ND experienced flurries and Global Warming denialists crowed in delight about the return to winter, as if it were an extra episode of GAME OF THRONES. "you-awl in the coast area– is giong to drowned by high sea waters caused by burning coal– that made them ole polar caps to melt– this flood of waters ran back up rivers for 200 miles– NY city shall be under water by 2013– you-uns in the center parts of america shall be scorched-n- dried up and blown away—— dad-gum-it– I forgeets — now that it is climate change– you-yuns is going to freeze to death cause polar vortex is going to swoop down and get you— sorry fur my mistake– I be not real smart likens you fellers that trust science– who jobs depend on research funds to solve a problem— I’sss be dumb enough to look out the winder at the weather– anyways all you-yunes need to worry all you kans– ok !!" The only nation with deniers blessed with this magnitude of ignorance is the USA. But what can you expect for a third-world nation whose main religion worships a bearded tranny in a muumuu. Ignorance is knowledge.

Extinct Slush

Yesterday the New York temperature was in the 50s.

Dirty snow clung to the sidewalks. Ice refused to melt, but the slush was gone.

It got cold again today.

And the forecast for Wednesday is for more snow.

This winter keeps coming.

And the slush now extinct will flow again.

The Sum Of 2014

The ever-lovely Ann Magnuson wished everyone a happy New Year on Facebook.

"2014 is going to be a good year! It has to be, it has a 4 in it!"

I hoped that she was right, since 2013 was an annus miserablis for me, however I wrote the hillbilly performance artiste that 4 is not considered lucky in China. Many Buildings don't have 4th floors and the elevators don't go to that floor.

2+1+4 = 7. seven is lucky. Hǎo yùn.

Seven is always lucky.

Especially in rolling dice.

Ann Magnuson responded, "How bizarre Peter . Well, maybe it won't be a good year in China so I will be sure and avoid it in 2014."

Me too, although most flights to Thailand pass through Peking.

If I'm lucky this year, I'll be going there to see my kids.