Over the past several years, following its
transformation into a pedestrian-only plaza, I’ve seen midtown Manhattan’s
Duffy Square turned into a showcase where all kinds of creatures can strut
their stuff; Batman, the Naked Cowboy, the African-American Naked Cowboy, the
Naked Cowgirl. But a couple of days
ago, just in time for the end of the playoffs, came one in the plaza’s latest
series of street sculptures.
At first, I thought I had never seen anything like
it. But the more I reflected, the more I felt a startling sense of familiarity
with this being. He had actually been appearing on my TV screen throughout the New York Yankees’ series with the Detroit Tigers—even earlier, as a matter of fact,
with the Bronx Bombers’ series against the Baltimore Orioles. He looks like he’s
without a cerebellum or a backbone.
This being the month of Halloween, my theory is that
he took demonic possession of the heart of the Yankee lineup—not just the inevitable
A-Rod, but also Robinson Cano, Curtis Granderson, Nick Swisher, and Co. It
seems as logical an explanation as any other why a team that terrorized
American League pitching in the regular season could, except for the one
four-run late-inning outburst against beleaguered closer Jose Valverde, score
only a measly two runs over four games against Tiger pitching.
Two years ago this
month, on a vacation to Hilton Head, SC, I took a short afternoon side trip
with a relative to Savannah. I’m not sure, after all this time, what the name
of this street was. But the American flag is at the heart of what this past
year has been about, for better or worse, and I thought this seemed like a beautiful sight in a Southern city already remarkable for its beauty.
I took this picture in mid-April, when I went down
to Greenwich Village to attend the performance of a play a block or two from
this scene.
I took this photo after a Saturday afternoon theater
matinee performance a week and a half ago, while walking on Christopher Street
in the western part of Greenwich Village. It was sunny but not too warm--the best kind of day to explore
the city’s neighborhoods. .jpg)
The other day, after work, I met some people up on
the Upper West Side. On the way to the dinner, looking uptown, I was struck by
the spring vista of the medians along Broadway. I took this picture from one of
them, at Broadway and 89th Street.
Over the past several years, following its
transformation into a pedestrian-only plaza, I’ve seen midtown Manhattan’s
Duffy Square turned into a showcase where all kinds of creatures can strut
their stuff; Batman, the Naked Cowboy, the African-American Naked Cowboy, the
Naked Cowgirl. But a couple of days
ago, just in time for the end of the playoffs, came one in the plaza’s latest
series of street sculptures. 
