Back in New York, our Berkshire summer has sadly ended early for medical reasons. I try to believe that for the moment my health has stabilized, but a mix of necessary medications has caused me to feel fatigue and weakness, especially in the morning.
But writing about the state of one’s health only causes depression and boredom for my readers and myself, so better think of more than medical problems. Even if contemplating the public world—dominated by monsters like Putin and Trump—causes one to rage and despair.
Still, we go out with close friends on a comfortable summer day to our favorite café, NoHo’s Café Lafayette, to escape feeling house bound. It’s an expensive café with a very young, well-heeled crowd, and even though we are the oldest people sitting there, that’s no matter. The talk flows easily, the food and service are good (the waiter is knowledgeable and composed), and I forget for a time my summer hospital stays and anxiety about my health.
For the time we are sitting and eating at the café, the city seems like a multi-ethic idyll. Of course we know better than to believe this moment defines the city’s reality. New York is never predictable, for you can turn one corner, and something nightmarish and violent that breaks the feeling of being at equilibrium can occur. Nothing happens today, except some minor incident of road rage taking place outside the café—one that quickly dissipates.
What I know is that it’s good to engage in activities outside one’s routine, and the city as always still offers a wide range of them. I look forward to seeing more friends, and going to galleries and museum exhibits like the Hopper at the Whitney, A New Look at the “Old Masters” at the Met, and the Jewish Museum’s “New York: 1962-1964,” which explores a pivotal three-year period in the history of art and culture in New York City. There is also the NYFF at Lincoln Center, which offers a carefully curated and sophisticated lineup highlighting well known auteurs like Noah Baumbach, Claire Denis, Hong Sangsoo, Mia Hansen-Love, and Frederic Wiseman, and a debut by Scottish director Charlotte Wells with her film “Aftersun.” We also are planning to go to the theater again (the first time in the pandemic era) to see Tom Stoppard’s “Leopoldstadt,” which takes its title from the Jewish quarter in Vienna. It’s a personal and passionate drama that follows an extended family deep into the heart of the 20th century.
Despite all these cultural offerings, I don’t forget how time and illness will probably undermine me, and how authoritarianism seems to be marching inexorably around the world.
