Here’s a piece that’s come of age. I wrote it 21 years ago on 1/1/2000. My relationship with artist Larry Anastasi had come apart earlier in the year, meaning I was without a sweetheart for much of 2000.
ONE/ONE/OHOH
(Or the end of the 20th century)
I knew I was going to be alone on New Year’s Eve. I’d thought of having a party -– instead of on New Year’s Day like in other years -– a New Year’s Eve party. But then Rose said she already had a party to go to and Francis said he was going to follow some mummers around with a video camera watching them get drunk all night. I thought, “Maybe I’ll go with Francis and do that.” I was glad Jeanette was having a party and of course Janus always has a party, so I could go to those. Still, I knew I was going to be alone on New Year’s Eve. I called Elaine who said New Year’s Eve is her and Bob’s anniversary, and then Barry called and said he was going to be with Paula at the fireworks at Swarthmore College and nobody was going to go to the fireworks in Philadelphia because of terrorism which is where I wanted to go but not alone. My son said he wouldn’t go with me to the fireworks, so I looked in the Philadelphia Weekly and saw a Philadelphia Orchestra concert of American music at the Academy of Music with tickets from twenty-five dollars to one thousand dollars and I figured I’d go for the twenty-five. I talked to Harold who said he would be staying in Bethlehem on New Year’s Eve, and then Francis said he wasn’t going to video-tape mummers getting drunk but had an invitation through his brother to the five-hundred dollar a person party on Boat House Row where I could call his cell phone at eleven p.m., and he’d meet me at the door, but I knew I was going to be alone on New Year’s Eve.
I told Jane how all my friends since just this year aren’t alone anymore. There’s Rose and Jeanette and Beth and Laurie and Julie (who’s going to be in New Orleans on New Year’s Eve), all having boyfriends, and Masako has a fiancée. Of course, Elaine’s always had Bob and Kim’s had John and Lili is with Robert through infinity, just like Fran with Jim, and Jane has married Joe. Even Bruce found a boyfriend this year and Dan has been with Roger forever though Harold seems content with his cat and Francis is fine to hang out with his brother. Jane said perhaps I’d meet somebody on New Year’s Eve, and I thought, “Maybe I’ll just go to Philadelphia.” I called Jeanette and she’d cancelled her party so that left Janus’s party, and Elaine was a little worried about me having something to do, what with my son having gotten fixed up for a bash at the Jersey shore.
On the day of the 31st when I talked to Masako, she said she and her fiancé Bert were going to the Academy and then I remembered, “Oh, the concert!” I looked in the City Paper and the only tickets available were twenty-five dollars or one hundred dollars, so I thought I’d take one of the one-hundreds, but the remaining one-hundreds were behind poles, so I bought a twenty-five. Elaine was glad I had something to do on New Year’s Eve, but I knew I was going to be alone.
I stopped by Janus’ party to say hello and then drove into the city to find a parking space at 21st and Walnut and arrived on Broad Street in time for the light show. A 6-feet, 6-inches tall man standing next to me said his friends were blocked in at the Dorchester because there was a black-out. He was a musician who’s played the Academy and I shook his hand goodbye saying, “Happy New Year,” and then wished I’d asked him to come with me to the concert. The mayor gave a speech before the curtain and a prodigious woman named Barbara Cook who I’d seen on Broadway in the 1970s when she was a significantly smaller woman sang Gershwin and the Academy gave everybody a piccolo bottle of champagne and a little flashlight in case of further blackouts.
I walked toward Penn’s Landing thinking maybe I’d see Elaine and Bob or John and Kim at the fireworks, and a man called Andre who was drinking champagne called Andre walked with me. He said, “You’re beautiful, if you don’t mind my saying.” I said, “I don’t mind, especially tonight, because I knew I was going to be alone on New Year’s Eve.” He paused on a street corner to show me how he can do the splits and near City Hall he stood on his head. He was kind of wasted on grass though he was able to remember he’s twenty-eight years old, a personal trainer, a Scorpio, and his social security number. He wanted to walk me anywhere I wanted to go, but especially he wanted to get me off 13thStreet because, “The niggers there are bad on shit,” and that they’d steal my handbag for a hit. He said he earned his money, and he would never rape anybody because if you needed a woman he knew where you could get one for five dollars. I shook his hand, which was cold as ice, and he unzipped his jacket and showed me no shirt and a handsome chest. He asked if I had any special person and I said, “Yeah, my son Moosh,” and he asked if I’d be his special person, but he thought that probably I wouldn’t because of the “ethnicity thing,” but that he wasn’t a man if he didn’t ask. I said, “It’s good you ask. You’re a good man.” And I thought how come that musician at the light show didn’t ask if he could go to the concert with me, and there I’d been thinking how I should have asked him. I told Andre it didn’t matter to me if a man was black but if he was a decent person and an artist and he said, “How about an exotic dancer, does that count? I mean a dancer’s an artist, right?” I kissed him on each cheek, saying, “No, you can’t walk me to my car,” and handed him the little flashlight from the Academy, and he said, “Can you give me a couple of ones for some beers?” I knew I’d be alone on New Year’s Eve. But that was back in the 20th century and now there’s here – here and now – the millennium.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, TWO-OH-TWO-TWO, ONE AND ALL