For years Jerome had noticed a gypsy-like figure that he thought of as The Prince of Bleecker Street living in a natural habitat located near the corner of Bleecker and LaGuardia Place in Greenwich Village. This habitat preserves the terrain the way Manhattan was before settled by Europeans, and in some cases, even before the Lenape Indians became the inhabitants of Mannahatta. The ancient setting was clear and pristine with a grandeur that some say rivaled the wilderness and beauty of Yosemite National Park.
Now the pristine wilderness is cement and asphalt. The Prince of Bleecker's palace is a tarp attached to a sprawling fern tree, where he sleeps and keeps his stash of necessities.
Most of the time the Prince presides at the corner of Bleecker and Laguardia Place, sitting outside the supermarket while reading the New York Post. He is constantly doing his "researches," working for the Secret Service and the CIA, or so he claims.
One day Jerome learned the Prince came from Peru where he was known as Delphin Blanco. Delphin calls himself the White Dolphin. He has ruled his Prince street domain for a decade. He is almost indescribable: an ancient patriarch, a gypsy, ageless, often wearing bright red tunic, bearded and with thick braided hair that is longer than his height when he stands about five feet four inches. And of course, a pipe that is fragrantly ancient as he puffs and reads.
He maintains that one day he will return to his mansion in Peru, but not until his work is done. Jerome asked what that work was and he replied in a low voice and heavy accent "top secret researches." The Dolphin speaks with such conviction that you have to believe in him on some level... at least on the level where he believes himself.
One day he said to Jerome, "I live high in the mountains of my country overlooking the Pacific. My mansion is made of marble, and I continue the traditions of the Incas, my ancestors." He lowered his voice. "There are many mysteries in the world, my friend. My ancestors are from the stars. We are the stuff that stars are made of. Someday, I will return to my star home. That is the legacy of the Dolphin."
So the days went by and the seasons passed and Jerome would see the colorful Prince sitting and reading, smoking his pipe, and talking to curious young people who were fascinated by the White Dolphin who seemed to have stepped from a book of fairytales. Occasionally, the Prince would disappear for a few days and then enigmatically return.
At one point, Jerome started to speculate that perhaps the tarp was a time warp, a space portal that the Dolphin would use to travel through space and time. He knew it was absurd, and yet the "Prince" had an air of other worldliness about him that was intriguing.
The Dolphin mysteriously came out supporting a conservative political candidate who was extremely wealthy and hated by the liberal establishment. Almost immediately the sanitation department and the police department descended upon the Prince's palace and began to harass him. The sanitation department gathered up his newspapers and discarded them as trash, but strangely although they hassled him, the police refused to evict the Dolphin as a homeless vagrant.
But the glare of publicity was on the Dolphin. The Post interviewed him and published the interview with photos which strikingly confirmed Jerome's impression of the Dolphin as the Prince of Bleecker Street. The Dolphin claimed that his support of a conservative candidate had prompted the mayor to go after him as a political enemy. Jerome was puzzled at the amount of attention given to this gypsy vagabond who lived off the land and somehow managed to escape the label of a homeless derelict.
Then months later, the Dolphin disappeared. His domain remained intact, but the Prince of Bleecker Street was nowhere to be seen. Jerome was worried. Autumn faded into winter, and snow blanketed the Dolphin's tarp domain. The winds buffeted the fern tree, and on occasion the Prince's domain lay buried in snow drifts. Jerome became so alarmed he pulled back the tarp during an especially cold wintry siege, dreading that he might discover the Dolphin's frozen remains. What he saw was a strange device almost buried in the snow, an artifact that might have been an amulet, bullet shaped with fins, but looking ancient and faintly glowing. He was tempted to retrieve it, but he felt almost paralyzed and afraid to move. A blast of wind forced him to lower the tarp and withdraw.
As summer approached, Jerome saw his mystical monarch walking along Bleecker as though he had never been away.
Jerome was stunned to see the Prince looking quite regal, his colorful demeanor now sported a multicolored knitted sleeve that encased his body-length braids like a kaleidoscopic tail. He seemed younger somehow, inscrutable and radiant. Even his pipe seemed different, oddly reminding Jerome of the amulet he had seen in the snow. Everything about him seemed different as though he had gone through some mystical metamorphosis.
"Dolphin, where have you been?" Jerome asked. "I was worried about you."
The Prince smiled. "I am doing my work, of course... my researches."
He paused and pulled on his pipe. "Never worry, my friend, the Dolphin is always secure in his legacy... there are many mansions in my domain... but I am always searching for the next adventure... There is always something waiting for me... There is always my researches..."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an amulet looking very much like the one Jerome had seen in the snow. He handed it to Jerome.
"Think of me when you look at the stars."
Jerome never saw the Dolphin again.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
A PERFECT MATCH
Mabel was extremely happy. She had found Ralph, and they were a perfect match. One might say they were a match made in heaven, but not exactly. She had gone through so many relationships over the past decade that she had begun to despair. But then Ralph came a long. Well, he didn't exactly come along. She met him through a computer matching service online. It had been all so simple that she wondered why she had waited so long to try the computer matching approach.
Now everything was perfect. Well, not exactly perfect, because Ralph was married and had a son and a daughter. He was about ten years older than Mabel and in the middle of a divorce. He needed to keep his relationship with Mabel secret until the divorce was finalized so his Ex couldn't use that against him in the settlement. This was annoying, but everything about Ralph was so perfect that she convinced herself she didn't mind the secrecy.
Mabel didn't look like a "Mabel", (not really sure what that means, except it's true). Her parents were in the maple syrup business in Vermont and picked "Mabel" because it was like maple music to their ears. But all of her life, Mabel was yearning to be a New Yorker---a true New Yorker.
Mabel appeared statuesque, perfectly proportioned, although she was only 5' 9". She could have been a Rockette if she were taller because she could dance with the best of them. The first week she came to NYC, she went to an open audition and won a spot as a dancer in a Broadway show. She thought this would open the door to many male companions. She quickly learned that the male dancers in her show were not available because she wasn't the right gender.
Mabel tried speed dating because she was in a hurry to find a guy in the Big Apple that could keep up with her life style. She met many guys that were looking for a hot romance, but really had nothing much to offer in a lasting relationship. After almost a decade of losers, she decided to try APERECTMATCH.com. That's how she met Ralph.
Ralph was a lawyer, very distinguished but low key. He was senior officer and partner in a small firm. He was smart, very methodical, and had a routine for every facet of his life, from making coffee to working out. Mabel loved routines as a way of managing time. In a way, it was also a way of managing Ralph.
Ralph was physically fit and worked out regularly, which was a priority for Mabel. She liked to run along the Hudson River almost every day. Her work as a dancer kept her "lean and mean"--- always ready for action.
The one factor on the matching scale most important to Mabel and Ralph was a vigorous physical relationship. Ralph was not especially handsome, but he was rugged and very strong. On their first date for dinner, they could hardly finish the meal. Their relationship started with a bang, one might be tempted to say. Ralph was experienced, strong, and in control, but deeply considerate of Mabel.
But now the days started to drag by as Ralph's continued negotiations with his Ex. It had now been two years since Mabel and Ralph met, but the divorce settlement was still in progress.
Mabel noticed that Ralph seemed to be texting a lot lately, and it didn't seem to be to her. He still was attentive, sent texts to her for liaisons, and their physical relationship continued to flourish.
But something seemed different. Not that Mabel was less committed, but she wondered what was going on with Ralph. He seemed ready to commit, but was so slow in finalizing and going to the next level.
Out of a premonition, she decided to create a new profile for herself as Mandy on MATCHMAKER.COM. She submitted photos she had in her phone of a girl she had met from Maine. They actually looked very similar, so Mabel didn't think it was really that misleading. Also, this was not really a serious commitment, just testing the water. She thought to herself that the computer matching had worked so well, why not have a backup now that Ralph seemed to be dragging his feet?
Much to her surprise she found several matches, but one that matched her even higher than Ralph. His name was Randy, and he was a sports professional, a personal trainer in a nearby gym. For several days, Mabel agonized over whether she should contact Randy. However, Ralph, although attentive and continuing to be an exciting lover, seemed a little distracted. After these two years, Mabel had fully expected to be wearing his ring, and making wedding plans. But there seemed to be no real movement toward that expectation.
Through the matching service, Mandy and Randy agreed to meet on Thursday for a late lunch at Rock Center Cafe in Rockefeller Center. This worked well for her because she had a 7 p.m. call for her show. It was a crisp October Day, and Mabel arrived early. She was surprised to see that ice skating had already started in The Rink at Rockefeller Center. She took some photos with her smartphone and posted on FaceBook. Even though she was early, Mabel walked through stores, including Saks Fifth Avenue across the street. She decided she would arrive fashionably late. She didn't want to appear eager, but she was curious to meet her match.
Finally she took the street elevator to the lower restaurant level. She told the receptionist she had reservations. She was getting very excited. Her heart was pounding. The receptionist led her to a table looking out on the rink.
Mabel suddenly was stunned as though someone had slugged her with a baseball bat. Her knees buckled.
"Ralph?"
"Mabel?"
Now everything was perfect. Well, not exactly perfect, because Ralph was married and had a son and a daughter. He was about ten years older than Mabel and in the middle of a divorce. He needed to keep his relationship with Mabel secret until the divorce was finalized so his Ex couldn't use that against him in the settlement. This was annoying, but everything about Ralph was so perfect that she convinced herself she didn't mind the secrecy.
Mabel didn't look like a "Mabel", (not really sure what that means, except it's true). Her parents were in the maple syrup business in Vermont and picked "Mabel" because it was like maple music to their ears. But all of her life, Mabel was yearning to be a New Yorker---a true New Yorker.
Mabel appeared statuesque, perfectly proportioned, although she was only 5' 9". She could have been a Rockette if she were taller because she could dance with the best of them. The first week she came to NYC, she went to an open audition and won a spot as a dancer in a Broadway show. She thought this would open the door to many male companions. She quickly learned that the male dancers in her show were not available because she wasn't the right gender.
Mabel tried speed dating because she was in a hurry to find a guy in the Big Apple that could keep up with her life style. She met many guys that were looking for a hot romance, but really had nothing much to offer in a lasting relationship. After almost a decade of losers, she decided to try APERECTMATCH.com. That's how she met Ralph.
Ralph was a lawyer, very distinguished but low key. He was senior officer and partner in a small firm. He was smart, very methodical, and had a routine for every facet of his life, from making coffee to working out. Mabel loved routines as a way of managing time. In a way, it was also a way of managing Ralph.
Ralph was physically fit and worked out regularly, which was a priority for Mabel. She liked to run along the Hudson River almost every day. Her work as a dancer kept her "lean and mean"--- always ready for action.
The one factor on the matching scale most important to Mabel and Ralph was a vigorous physical relationship. Ralph was not especially handsome, but he was rugged and very strong. On their first date for dinner, they could hardly finish the meal. Their relationship started with a bang, one might be tempted to say. Ralph was experienced, strong, and in control, but deeply considerate of Mabel.
But now the days started to drag by as Ralph's continued negotiations with his Ex. It had now been two years since Mabel and Ralph met, but the divorce settlement was still in progress.
Mabel noticed that Ralph seemed to be texting a lot lately, and it didn't seem to be to her. He still was attentive, sent texts to her for liaisons, and their physical relationship continued to flourish.
But something seemed different. Not that Mabel was less committed, but she wondered what was going on with Ralph. He seemed ready to commit, but was so slow in finalizing and going to the next level.
Out of a premonition, she decided to create a new profile for herself as Mandy on MATCHMAKER.COM. She submitted photos she had in her phone of a girl she had met from Maine. They actually looked very similar, so Mabel didn't think it was really that misleading. Also, this was not really a serious commitment, just testing the water. She thought to herself that the computer matching had worked so well, why not have a backup now that Ralph seemed to be dragging his feet?
Much to her surprise she found several matches, but one that matched her even higher than Ralph. His name was Randy, and he was a sports professional, a personal trainer in a nearby gym. For several days, Mabel agonized over whether she should contact Randy. However, Ralph, although attentive and continuing to be an exciting lover, seemed a little distracted. After these two years, Mabel had fully expected to be wearing his ring, and making wedding plans. But there seemed to be no real movement toward that expectation.
Through the matching service, Mandy and Randy agreed to meet on Thursday for a late lunch at Rock Center Cafe in Rockefeller Center. This worked well for her because she had a 7 p.m. call for her show. It was a crisp October Day, and Mabel arrived early. She was surprised to see that ice skating had already started in The Rink at Rockefeller Center. She took some photos with her smartphone and posted on FaceBook. Even though she was early, Mabel walked through stores, including Saks Fifth Avenue across the street. She decided she would arrive fashionably late. She didn't want to appear eager, but she was curious to meet her match.
Finally she took the street elevator to the lower restaurant level. She told the receptionist she had reservations. She was getting very excited. Her heart was pounding. The receptionist led her to a table looking out on the rink.
Mabel suddenly was stunned as though someone had slugged her with a baseball bat. Her knees buckled.
"Ralph?"
"Mabel?"
Friday, September 25, 2015
SHOOTING THE POPE
Miranda came to New York after her family fled Cuba on a life raft one summer night in 2003. It was a rare escape as most such attempts failed in recent times. Miranda was sent to live with her mother's sister whose family lived in the East Village near Avenue C. Miranda worked as waitress at Favela Cubana on LaGuardia Place. Her aunt was friends with the owner.
Miranda was a deep believer in Fate, and that God was watching over her. She trusted life and people for that reason. She believed she was destined to escape Cuba and to come to New York and a new life.
Miranda was passionate about life and smartphones. She managed to save for a smartphone, which served her like a beacon of freedom. Miranda might go without meals. She might go without movies or other entertainment. But she would never be without her phone. It was the most important device for creating her identity. She loved to take selfies in every possible setting, including just taking an image of some drink she had ordered at a bar. She thrived on posting on FaceBook and had gradually developed more than 200 FaceBook friends.
When Miranda learned that Pope Francis was coming to New York, she began to dream of shooting a selfie with the Pope. She was excited that he was reviving the Church in Cuba, and she thought about how that would have such a positive effect on those of her family still living there.
She studied everything on the internet she could to find out his itinerary. He was arriving in Washington D.C. and then coming to New York on Thursday to hold prayer at St. Patricks that evening. The next morning he would address the UN, hold a ceremony at the 9/11Memorial, visit a school in Harlem, motorcade through Central Park, and end with Mass at Madison Square Garden. Miranda marveled that the Pope could do so much in such a short visit and the plans put him in touch with so many different people---but always at a guarded distance.
Miranda thought about what would be the best opportunity to take a selfie with the Pope. As she took a work-break from Favela Cubana, she stood on LaGuardia Place looking south. She saw the Freedom Tower gleaming in the bright September sky. The tower was a symbol of her own escape to freedom with her family. "It's perfect," she smiled, "it represents my life, and a picture with the Pope would be my greatest wish." Miranda prayed, and on the evening before the Pope's visit to the memorial, she walked around and tried to connect spiritually with the surrounding area. She imagined where the Pope might travel and how she might get in position.
Miranda told her co-workers and friends she would be trying to take a picture of herself with the Pope. They all laughed, but knowing she was vulnerable, they hoped she wouldn't get hurt.
That night Miranda couldn't sleep. She thought about the Pope and where he was. She wondered if he was sleeping. She prayed that her dream would come true, that Miranda would have the chance to take a picture with Pope Francis, who took the name of St. Francis of Assisi to help the poor and downtrodden. Miranda felt poor and downtrodden. Surely God would smile on her tomorrow and help her with her picture. She left her phone plugged in to make sure it would be charged.
Miranda left her apartment at midnight. and headed by foot toward the Freedom Tower. It wasn't easy. She was among the first to be on the scene, although some had been there all night. She had some coffee. She liked the smell of coffee in the early morning hours. There was a chill in the night air and the coffee warmed her. Somehow she managed to be near the entrance of the Freedom Tower and the memorial.
As expected people were overflowing the area, but the police were effective in maintaining control. Miranda had been lucky in being pushed along almost in step with the Pope's entourage and dignitaries as they moved forward. There were spaces where Miranda could get a good view of the Pope. The timing would have to be perfect, but if she held the phone at the right angle she would capture her face with the Pope in the background.
As the Pope moved along and came into her view, he would disappear behind the crowd and then appear again. Miranda was watching and timing it just right. She anticipated the next chance, and at the precise moment he would be visible, she turned and raised her phone to shoot a selfie with the Pope.
The world is a mysterious and dangerous place. Miranda could have never dreamed what would happen the way it happened at that moment. Suddenly there was violent push, and the crowd was screaming. And then she saw him, a dark and bearded man with a gun who was shoving his way toward the Pope. He knocked Miranda to the ground and her smartphone went flying. Police and military leapt on the man, and he was subdued within seconds without one shot being fired.
The Pope's party hastened forward to the Memorial Site where the ceremony was to take place. Everything calmed down as the attacker was hustled away. The entire event lasted only twenty seconds, a tiny rip in the fabric of time. The brevity and rapid resolution of the attempted attack led to the impression nothing had happened at all. It was completely censored from the media.
For a moment, Miranda lay there dazed, and then struggled to her feet. No matter how brief the attack had been, Miranda felt it ravage her soul. Her phone was gone! ...knocked out of her hand just as she was taking the selfie. She began to sob. In such a brief moment her world was completely destroyed. She tried to look for it, but people were now moving slowly, tightly packed together. Miranda tried to gather her thoughts. She tried to understand what had taken place. Maybe God was punishing her.
Then a young man approached her, holding her phone. He was tall and strong. At that moment Miranda thought he was Prince Charming.
"Miss, I think this is your phone...is it not?"
Miranda reached out and took the phone and kissed it. She looked upward, thanking God for restoring her phone. And then she gave her savior a kiss of thanks.
Actually, Miranda was still in a state of shock. The handsome young man noticed this and took her for some coffee so she could settle her thoughts. Miranda thought that maybe this whole thing might have happened so they would meet.
She shared with her handsome hero that she had gone to the Memorial Site to try to take a selfie of herself with the Pope. He laughed, but said it was difficult feel sorry for her because the event had led to him meeting her. Even so, Miranda shared her deep disappointment at failing her mission. She had been terrified when she saw the bearded man with the gun, but was so thankful nothing happened. He escorted her home, but not before they exchanged phone numbers.
Later that night, Miranda gave thanks to God. Just as she was about to go sleep, she turned on her phone to look at messages. She looked at FaceBook and there was a notification of people liking her photo. She clicked on it, and there on FaceBook smiling at her was an Instagram of Miranda in a selfie with the Pope.
Miranda was a deep believer in Fate, and that God was watching over her. She trusted life and people for that reason. She believed she was destined to escape Cuba and to come to New York and a new life.
Miranda was passionate about life and smartphones. She managed to save for a smartphone, which served her like a beacon of freedom. Miranda might go without meals. She might go without movies or other entertainment. But she would never be without her phone. It was the most important device for creating her identity. She loved to take selfies in every possible setting, including just taking an image of some drink she had ordered at a bar. She thrived on posting on FaceBook and had gradually developed more than 200 FaceBook friends.
When Miranda learned that Pope Francis was coming to New York, she began to dream of shooting a selfie with the Pope. She was excited that he was reviving the Church in Cuba, and she thought about how that would have such a positive effect on those of her family still living there.
She studied everything on the internet she could to find out his itinerary. He was arriving in Washington D.C. and then coming to New York on Thursday to hold prayer at St. Patricks that evening. The next morning he would address the UN, hold a ceremony at the 9/11Memorial, visit a school in Harlem, motorcade through Central Park, and end with Mass at Madison Square Garden. Miranda marveled that the Pope could do so much in such a short visit and the plans put him in touch with so many different people---but always at a guarded distance.
Miranda thought about what would be the best opportunity to take a selfie with the Pope. As she took a work-break from Favela Cubana, she stood on LaGuardia Place looking south. She saw the Freedom Tower gleaming in the bright September sky. The tower was a symbol of her own escape to freedom with her family. "It's perfect," she smiled, "it represents my life, and a picture with the Pope would be my greatest wish." Miranda prayed, and on the evening before the Pope's visit to the memorial, she walked around and tried to connect spiritually with the surrounding area. She imagined where the Pope might travel and how she might get in position.
Miranda told her co-workers and friends she would be trying to take a picture of herself with the Pope. They all laughed, but knowing she was vulnerable, they hoped she wouldn't get hurt.
That night Miranda couldn't sleep. She thought about the Pope and where he was. She wondered if he was sleeping. She prayed that her dream would come true, that Miranda would have the chance to take a picture with Pope Francis, who took the name of St. Francis of Assisi to help the poor and downtrodden. Miranda felt poor and downtrodden. Surely God would smile on her tomorrow and help her with her picture. She left her phone plugged in to make sure it would be charged.
Miranda left her apartment at midnight. and headed by foot toward the Freedom Tower. It wasn't easy. She was among the first to be on the scene, although some had been there all night. She had some coffee. She liked the smell of coffee in the early morning hours. There was a chill in the night air and the coffee warmed her. Somehow she managed to be near the entrance of the Freedom Tower and the memorial.
As expected people were overflowing the area, but the police were effective in maintaining control. Miranda had been lucky in being pushed along almost in step with the Pope's entourage and dignitaries as they moved forward. There were spaces where Miranda could get a good view of the Pope. The timing would have to be perfect, but if she held the phone at the right angle she would capture her face with the Pope in the background.
As the Pope moved along and came into her view, he would disappear behind the crowd and then appear again. Miranda was watching and timing it just right. She anticipated the next chance, and at the precise moment he would be visible, she turned and raised her phone to shoot a selfie with the Pope.
The world is a mysterious and dangerous place. Miranda could have never dreamed what would happen the way it happened at that moment. Suddenly there was violent push, and the crowd was screaming. And then she saw him, a dark and bearded man with a gun who was shoving his way toward the Pope. He knocked Miranda to the ground and her smartphone went flying. Police and military leapt on the man, and he was subdued within seconds without one shot being fired.
The Pope's party hastened forward to the Memorial Site where the ceremony was to take place. Everything calmed down as the attacker was hustled away. The entire event lasted only twenty seconds, a tiny rip in the fabric of time. The brevity and rapid resolution of the attempted attack led to the impression nothing had happened at all. It was completely censored from the media.
For a moment, Miranda lay there dazed, and then struggled to her feet. No matter how brief the attack had been, Miranda felt it ravage her soul. Her phone was gone! ...knocked out of her hand just as she was taking the selfie. She began to sob. In such a brief moment her world was completely destroyed. She tried to look for it, but people were now moving slowly, tightly packed together. Miranda tried to gather her thoughts. She tried to understand what had taken place. Maybe God was punishing her.
Then a young man approached her, holding her phone. He was tall and strong. At that moment Miranda thought he was Prince Charming.
"Miss, I think this is your phone...is it not?"
Miranda reached out and took the phone and kissed it. She looked upward, thanking God for restoring her phone. And then she gave her savior a kiss of thanks.
Actually, Miranda was still in a state of shock. The handsome young man noticed this and took her for some coffee so she could settle her thoughts. Miranda thought that maybe this whole thing might have happened so they would meet.
She shared with her handsome hero that she had gone to the Memorial Site to try to take a selfie of herself with the Pope. He laughed, but said it was difficult feel sorry for her because the event had led to him meeting her. Even so, Miranda shared her deep disappointment at failing her mission. She had been terrified when she saw the bearded man with the gun, but was so thankful nothing happened. He escorted her home, but not before they exchanged phone numbers.
Later that night, Miranda gave thanks to God. Just as she was about to go sleep, she turned on her phone to look at messages. She looked at FaceBook and there was a notification of people liking her photo. She clicked on it, and there on FaceBook smiling at her was an Instagram of Miranda in a selfie with the Pope.
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