On this beautiful summer (thanks climate change) day, our whole city was out in the streets as if we had just won a war. All the sidewalk restaurants were packed. A car drove past us on Grand with a woman hanging out the back window, yelling hoarsely “TRUMP’S FIRED!” Elation was in the air.
I was out walking Ollie for his nap when I heard live music coming from a couple blocks away. I followed it, and was rewarded when I discovered a jazz trio playing on the corner. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure when’s the last time I heard a busker. A few people were gathered around to listen, and what in prior years would have been a fairly quotidian NYC experience today seemed to resonate more like a tribute to common humanity. Shared live music is something we no longer take for granted.
They were taking solos when we arrived, and I had to get Ollie back home, but decided to stay until the end of the song. Then they got to the reprise, and I had a hard time holding it together as I realized what it was: The Battle Hymn of the Republic.