Stacy Horn

My choir director arranged for three small outdoor sings for our group, the Choral Society of Grace Church. I went to the first, because it was the closest to me (the pier at Christopher Street). Everyone was wearing masks, and sang socially distanced, although it looks like we moved in closer. There was a very strong wind though, so I think we were safe. I could have sung for hours. But according to recent research, singing in groups for more than 15 minutes is not safe. So we sang four short pieces (including Palestrina!) and called it a day.

This is Manhattan Samba getting ready to play. I used to be in the band, but I haven’t played with them in years, so I was just there to get some video of them for an upcoming gig (the Mermaid Parade, which is going to be virtual this year). This is on the highway along the Hudson River, at Little West 12th Street.

It was just so sweet, and quirky, and best of all, it so proudly displayed the diversity of our country. But not in a boring, grade school presentation way. The Ohio guys. Rhode Island with the plate of calamari. Alabama casting its votes in front of the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Matthew Shepherd’s parents casting the votes for Wyoming.

I also learned more about who can vote and who cannot vote, which seems horribly unfair. All these territories should be made states. I don’t think I have ever even heard of the Northern Mariana Islands until last night, I’m embarrassed to admit.

Circles drawn on the grass in Madison Square Park, in order to enforce social distancing.

I love the kind of people who keep their sense of humor no matter what.

Speaking as someone who lives alone, the pandemic has, not surprisingly, really emphasized that we really are. I’m not saying we don’t have friends, family, boyfriends, girlfriends, people who love us, etc. But we are experiencing the pandemic differently than people who don’t live alone. There are pluses and minuses. All of that aside, I appreciate the kindness in this sign.

I like that the child who drew this drew a picture of their pet to thank the workers, and not themselves.

I’ve lost hope in America again. But this made me smile.

Recently I came across the 2016 obituary for Edward Abrahamson, who was the school principle at my elementary school, Flower Hill Elementary.

I will always remember him as the man who saved my life, even though he technically didn’t save my life. I was in the 3rd grade, and I was walking to school when this monster-sized dog jumped on me, knocked me over, then stood on me, pinning me to the ground. It was actually a sweet, overly friendly dog and I was in no danger, and I kinda knew that, but the dog was also so big and what if I was wrong? So I was laying on the side of the road, with this huge dog staring down at me, when Mr. Abrahamson drove by, on his way to work. He stopped and asked, “Do you need help?” “Yes!” He got out and smiled and that’s when I realized, yeah, I was probably not in danger. “Come on boy,” he said to the dog who happily got off me. He was a good boy really, and Mr. Abrahamson took me the rest of the way to school.

Even though I knew that I had been safe all along he was still my hero. God knows how long I would have lain there before either the dog got bored or I decided to try to just get up. He rescued me. And he was so sweet about it. He didn’t make me feel stupid for being scared. He was such a nice man. Thank you Mr. Abrahamson. I never forgot you. (He’s in the center of the first row below.)

I had to pass that dog every school day for the next three years and I always dreaded him. Although it’s not life threatening it was no fun to have a dog knock you over and stand on you when you are teeny.