I was sitting in my living room having my cocktail and reading my book when I heard “Black Lives Matter” shouted from the street.
They were marching up Third Avenue. I live on the corner of Third Avenue and 58th St.
As I’ve mentioned before I’m 76 and I’m terrified of this virus.
I haven’t touched or seen in person any member of my family or friends in months.
I haven’t gone to any marches because I’m afraid of being with a lot of people in crowds.
But this was different.
They were coming to pick me up.
I could matter again.
I tried to convince myself that I had done my part in the sixties facing police on horses in riot gear with no fear in my heart.
(Actually that’s a lie. I was scared to death and I seriously thought of running home.)
I looked at Debby.
“We’re going out to join the March !”
But first I had to put on pants.
And a mask.
And Debbie’s halter and leash.
My BLM shirt has not arrived but I was wearing a Hillary shirt so that would have to do.
I got in the elevator and went down to the lobby.
My doorman pointed uptown and said “They went that way”
I ran outside.
(That’s a lie. I never run anywhere anymore)
The March was about 3 blocks uptown.
I tried to catch up to them. I really did.
Debby peeing every few feet didn’t add to my speed.
Finally I gave up and went home.
Black Lives Matter but maybe I don’t matter any more.