Monday 5/7/07

Yesterday around 5:30 pm at the height of rush hour I'm walking down 6th Ave by 14th St Street, headed for the park. Someone is begging loudly, would someone please give him some change, he's trying to save enough for a harmonica. All he needs is a harmonica, a little music, he keeps whining, really.

I walk past, then turn to look. The guy is standing by the F train entrance; he's kind of old and raggedy, tall and thin with long gray hair. I start to walk away then turn back again. Finally I ask him: do you really want money to buy a harmonica?

Up close I see he's not so old. Maybe my age. He's pretty dirty and his teeth are mostly gone--3 or 4 brown stubs. He's happy I asked. Of course he wants a harmonica.

I happen to be carrying a backpack full of six harmonicas, so I give him my C harp which is the only marine band. I tell him it's been used, but he doesn't mind. He plays a little bit of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", then some blues. He gives me a big smile and a big filthy hand-shake, heads down the subway stairs to make some money, I hope.

Two steps down he turns back and says: Who sent you? Was it Jesus?

I keep going to the park It's half-closed, roped-off and patrolled by glowering security guards. NYU graduation is coming.

Some say that NYU wants to make the park its front lawn. NYU is a prestigious university with no campus, except Washington Square which becomes campus defacto, because NYU buildings surround it.

No guitarists are out, but there is a serious jazz duet --bass and saxophone--which demands complete respect. Music students, I guess. If I had their talent and dedication I could probably do at least as well. The guy I gave my harmonica to wasn't bad, either.