East Village, autumn, Sunday

East Village, autumn, Sunday, trying to stay optimistic in an era of noisy divisiveness and a decided lack of civility in the political process.

Stopping to talk in front of the William Barnacle Tavern, a former speak easy, downstairs from the NY Gangsters Museum and next door to the Theater 80. Larkin, the owner, isn’t around but the bartender, Jody, a Scottish woman now 12 years in New York, is setting out the happy hour signs. We chat about Scotch, living in NYC, and the best places to drink Scotch in NYC. Mike Quinn from Brooklyn who’s rented a space about the size of a closet, with a window out onto the street, is getting ready to sell his Feltman’s hot dog. He either runs or used to run historical tours of Coney Island and kept a Brooklyn blog.

Arnie, the super of a building somewhere on the block stops to chat. He’s got his dogs, Marie and Houdini, and they are a calm pair of pooches, obviously beloved, certainly pampered. Arnie is unhappy about people who throw away their wet garbage but don’t tie the bags shut. He can’t get any respect, but Jody and Mike like him and respect him.

Around the corner at East Village Cheese I get into a conversation with a woman who is trying to find some Latin American cheese for a recipe. The store doesn’t have any but she and I discuss the flavor profile of the required cheese and make suggestions. She is with her mom, Rhonda who’s in from Long Island to go to a show with her daughters - “Something Rotten.”

One of these days I’ll go back and get a picture of the bartender.

By then the woman below will have figured out how to use the Citibike kiosk.

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