Samadee, reluctantly, but of necessity, added that ultimate fifth layer for the beginning of that odd Thanksgiving week, during which downtown foot traffic steadily evaporates to a holiday emptiness, followed immediately by a shoulder-to-shoulder capacity as 74 feet of lights shape the tree the next evening, with the feeling of being in almost a real city. The week started gray, a sea gull perching stoically atop the hat on Columbus Circle’s statue, pigeons huddled at his feet. The holiday’s street emptiness, ironic for the bright warm sense of spring, enabled signage to be tagged on the statue, “500 years of genocide & imperialism; wake up” spray painted in black, with balloon bag splashes suggesting blood stain. Parks & Rec folks moved quickly and masterfully to remove a message by no means new to the Circle.
Samadee stood at the corner of Jefferson and Warren, “our two New York City blocks,” as Mr. Sane was extolling them, “without the density. I could roll a bowling ball down this sidewalk and not hit anybody.” Samadee was heading for N.Y.C. Pickle Deli and Grill for a cheeseburger, although Nelson was suggesting soup. Mr. Sane was headed for Odessa’s, “to show the brothers some support.” Samadee flashed on the New Year’s Day he had left Manhattan, and was reminded of his traditionally chauvinistic role, chiding Mr. Sane that, being from Staten Island, he could not really qualify as a New Yorker, Staten Island all the time wanting to secede and stuff. Nelson’s home squat was 93rd Street off Broadway, so he could hang.
The fifth layer, a zippered two-faced sweater Samadee donned at the beginning of the week — two would be discarded by a 60 degree Friday — had been handed to him on the street one day along with a pair of blue summer pants, out of the blue, by the parking attendant who holds sway in the lot between St. Paul’s cathedral and the Lafayette Building. He reflected he should drop off the pair of pants he never wore at the Gifford Street Rescue Mission shop on his way to shopping at Nojaim’s, expanding the clothes recycling cycle, as, on a grander scale, the cobbler in the University Building gathered shoes for Christmas distribution, this year almost 100 pairs with a month to go.
For the thirty-somethingth year, Samadee reported for Thanksgiving dinner pot washing duty at the Rescue Mission, although expanded use of aluminum tins focused his efforts on a steady two-hour rhythm of power rinsing plates, cups and glasses. The dinner provided a cosmopolitan culinary continuum for the week. The N.Y.C. chef had held up the ball of freshly ground burger beef for inspection, and was well satisfied with the compliment, “Just like New York.” A similar response went out following Friday’s soup at the Deli, chicken with ingredients most consumers could probably not spell. With no icing on the cake available from a closed Bittersweet, however, even if all the downtown restaurants had been open and serving turkey on The Day, Wild Will’s complimentary spread would have been rated at the top of the shelf.
