BRIDGES

NYC had been closed for more than three months due to COVID, and I was feeling confined. Living near the East River, I noticed that the commuter ferries were still running, although they seemed empty most of the time. I decided that a ferry ride would give me a long-missed sense of freedom and being outdoors, and would likely be a safe activity. I know some New Yorkers who fear leaving their homes during this COVID time, but I had no concerns about making this outing. With a mask and gloves, I have gone for walks and shopped in supermarkets, and I was ready for a new phase in my own opening. And although some of my friends consider me brave (foolish?) for my activities outside of my apartment, I was ready for a new venture.  Years ago, when I was in therapy, my psychologist said I was “counterphobic.”  I liked that, since it helped me understand that doing things I was afraid of, either in social or work situations, actually helped me manage the fears. I think this leads me to take on activities during COVID time that others might consider brave, even if I take appropriate precautions.

 I invited Ellen, a friend and neighbor, to join me on the ferry going from East 34^th Street to Wall Street.  It was mid-day on a friday, with New York City still in Phase I of reopening, and I was surprised to see so many people on the ferry. I had no concerns, as all were masked and socially distanced. Some of the passengers had beach clothes on and were carrying blankets, so I assumed they would be taking another ferry at Wall Street that went to Rockaway Beach. It felt good knowing that despite the COVID sadness and limitations hanging over the City, some folks were out to enjoy this lovely summer-like day. This raised my own expectations for having a good time.

I was glad to make this trip with Ellen. Although she and I lived in the same apartment complex for many years (she was there before I got there about 13 years ago), we had only recently become friends. After retiring from a busy career about one year ago, I wanted to make some new friends, especially some who shared my interests, including exploring NYC. I consider myself a bit shy, and felt awkward about how to make new friends at this time in my life. I decided I would seek out opportunities. I met Ellen at a meeting of a senior network in my apartment complex, and her comments about the city indicated that she loved it too. Tall, thin, and energetic, she had retired from her career in advertising several years ago. It seemed strange, in my 70s, to be developing a new friend, but I believed the relationship would grow. We previously took a walk together over the Manhattan Bridge, and talked about other places we wanted to visit. She was glad to join me on the ferry ride (perhaps she is counterphobic too).

Ellen and I both wanted to sit on the ferry’s top deck—to get the best view and feel the breeze. As we left the dock, I was excited to have this adventure together. Heading south to Wall Street, I especially loved going under the three bridges connecting Brooklyn and Manhattan. They were strong and majestic, as always, waiting for city traffic to start up again. 

These bridges were built around the turn of the 19^th century- the Brooklyn Bridge opened in 1883, the Williamsburg Bridge in 1903 and the Manhattan Bridge in 1909,  and they led to the subsequent growth of the borough of Brooklyn. They have a special meaning for me as I was born and lived in Brooklyn until I was 23. While growing up, I was eager to go into “the City,” as Manhattan was called, and when I see the bridges they represent my growth into adulthood. It was in Manhattan where my career developed, I met my husband, and my children were born. They still represent successfully crossing barriers into a fuller life.

We got off the ferry at Wall Street and as we walked inland toward the huge granite office buildings something felt odd— there were very few people. Rather than a midweek lunchtime it felt more like a deserted Sunday morning. Realizing that many people were still working from home, and others were temporarily out of work, I hoped that this emptiness would not last long. The energy and stimulation I love and always feel walking in the City was not there. I wanted the crowds back.

We walked past One Financial Square, a large office building, and I noticed some larger-than-life bronze statues of women in the archways that form the street level of the building. I pointed the statues out to Ellen, and we were both surprised and delighted to see statues of powerful women and read about them on the nearby plaques. There were ten in all, and we eagerly moved from one to the other. I knew some of them, like Jane Goodall- primatologist and Oprah Winfrey-entertainer, and others I didn’t, like Tracy Caldwell Dyson- astronaut and Janet Mock-writer.

It was especially wonderful to see them in what is the location of male-dominated industries. Recent reports on the status of women on Wall Street found that women account for less than 17 percent of senior leaders in US investment banking and 18 percent of total employees in private equity.

I later learned that the statues were part of a “Statues for Equality” exhibit by the sculptors known as Gillie and Marc, and were developed to counter the gender inequality in statues. Only 3% of NYC statues were of women. Gillie and Marc Shattner are an Australian couple known for their public sculptures and activism. After display in lower Manhattan these statues would be placed in permanent locations around the country. I left the statues feeling that progress for women was underway, and could be found even in this time of COVID and of a “pause” for so many parts of our lives.

We continued walking, looking for a place for lunch, and found a small shop open on the street level of one of the huge skyscrapers.  It seemed to be a shop from another time and place. What an unusual array of items— big glass jars with candy, boxes of teabags, a tall cooler with drinks, a tray of muffins, and a cash register that appeared to be from the 1950s. This all seemed out of place in the modern glass building surrounding the shop.

The elderly, short, hunched- over proprietor was masked. Dark-haired and swarthy, he reminded me of an Italian “old world” shoemaker I knew from my neighborhood in Brooklyn when I was growing up. Not seeing any lunch food, we asked where we could buy a sandwich nearby. He told us that nothing was open since there were no workers there, but that he could make either ham and cheese or tuna sandwiches. Not much choice there but we were hungry, and as he was masked and gloved, we felt comfortable having him make our sandwiches. He took the ingredients from a refrigerated drink case, painstakingly made the sandwiches, and carefully cut and wrapped them. We selected chips and drinks and the total came to $18. As he had no credit card machine, I gave him a $20 bill and said keep the change. He didn’t hear me, and began taking out two singles from the register. I repeated – that’s ok, keep the change. His eyes looked up, surprised and pleased, as he warmly said God bless you. Because of the mask, I couldn’t see whether he had a smile on his face… I’m sure he did. We may have been his only customers that day Ellen said as we walked away, and we were pleased that we provided him with some income.

We found a nearby bench to have our lunch, and I felt that although this vibrant part of the city was virtually empty today, its life would return. Those bridges were waiting to bring people back to lower Manhattan, the powerful bronze women were keeping watch over the empty streets and held the promise of progress in reaching gender equality where little had been found before, and the deli man optimistically tended the store with few customers for now. I felt confident that they would all be there when the city opened up again.

The ferry ride back up to 34^th St had many fewer people on board, and we again enjoyed the sun and the views. As we walked home Ellen and I began talking about our next venture and settled on another bridge walk, over the Ed Koch Bridge at 59^th Street. It seemed this would be just the right thing to do—representing new crossings and hopes, and new phases for the city and our friendship.