Letters From the Editor
Jubilee Grows in Brooklyn
They’ve had a couple of groupies for as long as I’ve seen them and everyone has come out of their apartments to watch. Even the owners of a guitar shop across the street quieted its customers and poked their heads out the door, smiling. I saw a man, while waiting for the bus, dance in place, leaning forward and back like there were strong winds coming from either side. A pair of young ladies stopped their conversation and started clapping when the band passed them.
It’s the first time in a week and a half that I’ve seen people stop on the street, stare around, and enjoy themselves. We’ve all been stopping our lives recently for horrible reasons. Then we resumed them, pretending our days were back to their normal routines, and tried our best to look satisfied, urgent, or annoyed. We have pretended to be glad that we’re back to the middle emotions of the everyday.
Then an impromptu marching band shows up and won’t go away, won’t let you ignore them, and everything seems wonderful, pulsing, and light for a brief, short minute.