Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 35

“It was a Tuesday. I was driving the M20 that day. And it was...

“It was a Tuesday. I was driving the M20 that day. And it was during the worst of it, so the streets were completely empty. It felt like a ghost town. I picked up one homeless person. Then another. There was a sheet of plastic around the driver’s seat, so it felt like I was transporting prisoners or something. Then I drove past a hospital and saw an old man waving his cane at me. He was screaming at me to stop. He wasn’t even near a bus stop, but it felt like a war. Like we couldn’t leave anybody behind. So I pulled over and picked him up. I drove him up to 52nd Street and dropped him off at the Dunkin Donuts. I watched for a moment as he limped away. And that’s when I broke. I fell hard, I really did. I wasn’t just crying for him. I was crying for all of it. During that time it was so hard to not get depressed. I’m a people person. That’s where I get my energy. But there weren’t any people anymore. There was nobody to make smile. Or give a fist bump to. There were times when I’d be all alone on the bus, sitting at a red light. And I’d start to think the craziest things. But I’d pull myself together. I’d say: ‘Luis, you’re better than this. You’re a happy person.’ Sometimes I’d start making faces at myself in the mirror, just for me. I’d hit the button on the PA and sing ‘I’ll Make Love To You.’ Just a little something to make me laugh. So I could have a smile for the next person who got on the bus. That makes a big difference. If you can smile at someone, it can really change their mood. At home I have a pile of twenty certificates, they’re commendations I’ve received over the years for doing a good job. But I’ll tell you my favorite one. I got it four years back, and it came with a copy of a letter that a woman had written to the MTA. She wrote: ‘One morning I was feeling depressed. I was holding back tears. But I got on the M12, and the driver smiled at me. He said ‘Good morning.’ And it was just a small thing, but it’s exactly what I needed. It completely changed my mood.’”  #comebackNYC

The city is coming back. If you’re here, you can feel it. There...

The city is coming back. If you’re here, you can feel it. There have been a few shock headlines that suggest otherwise. And there seem to be some tabloid reporters wading through normal life in search of crime, vagrancy, and drug use. But all the pessimism in the world can’t prevent the inevitable. New York is coming back. The parks are alive. The streets are once again filling with random encounters. And if you want an outside table at your favorite restaurant on a Tuesday night, you better plan ahead. Because everyone else has the same idea. The energy is returning, only now it has a slightly different flavor. Because it’s the energy of a comeback. The city has been through so much this past sixteen months, and the suffering continues in many forms. Many are still grieving their loved ones. The lights of Broadway haven’t quite returned. And the small business situation is heartbreaking, so many good people are being crushed beneath a mountain of unpaid rent. New York is hurting. Nobody is denying that. But New York is coming back, because the people are still here. The soul of New York was never skyscrapers. It’s people. This tiny dot on the globe has more languages, more religions, more ideas, more dreams, and more stories than anywhere else on earth. There’s eight million people here, and all of them are different. But everyone has one thing in common: they’re here for a reason. They love New York. And they’re going to bring it back. This month I’ll be partnering with my friend NEWYORKNICO on a series called #comebackNYC. For years Nico has been documenting interesting New Yorkers. He calls himself the ‘unofficial talent scout’ of New York, but I think that’s too simplistic of a label. More than anything, these people are his friends. He cares about everyone he features. And they care about him. Nico has been introducing me to some of his favorite New Yorkers, and during the month of June I’ll be sharing their stories. It’s been a very meaningful series for me personally. This is such an important chapter in the life of the city, and it’s a privilege to be a part of this moment. #comebacknyc

“I’m really proud that I’m still interested. Not ‘interesting’,...

“I’m really proud that I’m still interested. Not ‘interesting’, that’s a different thing. I mean interested. I’m still interested in the world. ‘Interested’ feeds me, and if that makes me interesting, then great. Quite frankly this year has been a delight. I’ve been using a lot of Zoom. I’m zooming everywhere. To places and topics that I would never have discovered pre-pandemic. And all without dealing with people. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. I just don’t like hundreds of them. There’s a series I recently found called the California Scholar’s Program, it’s 200 separate lectures of astonishing content related to a Jewish universe. It was a local thing before the pandemic. They’d do programs at various synagogues in Southern California. But not anymore. Now they’re zooming. They recently gave a presentation on a photographer who documented Hasidic families reconstituting themselves after World War II. The photographs were luminous. And I watched the whole thing while drinking a glass of wine. At 3 PM today the Natural History Museum is zooming a lecture on spies. It’s on my calendar. And there’s another one tonight about the TWA Terminal at LaGuardia Airport. I’m actually missing one right now, about cassowaries. They’re really big birds from the island of New Guinea. They’re almost like ostriches, but with incredible neck colorations. And it’s an entire lecture comparing them to modern dinosaurs. I really wanted to see that one, but the weather was so nice. So I came to the park. Had it been raining, it would be cassowaries. But it’s beautiful, so I’m here. With an exquisite book about London during the English Civil War.”

“Through it all I’ve tried to keep my faith. Especially when...

“Through it all I’ve tried to keep my faith. Especially when things go wrong. Like when my dad died, or when my mom died. My mom was the hardest. I was an only child, so she was like three people in one to me: my mom, my sister, my best friend. She was a Honduran immigrant, and she had such a calm spirit. She only had to put her hand on my shoulder and she could bring me down from wherever I was. She’s the one who taught me the importance of faith. She had a thing for Psalm 23; it’s the one that starts with: ‘The Lord is my shepherd.’ It’s kinda cliché. But it was her favorite. So when she was in her hospital bed, and she asked me to ‘read her something good,’ I read Psalm 23. She was swollen from the cancer and the chemo, but she recited it along with me. I could tell she was almost at the point of surrender. And for the first time I realized she wasn’t going to make it. I had prayed so hard for her to live. I’d prayed and prayed and prayed. But it didn’t work, and I went to a really dark place when she passed away. I felt like an orphan. I almost didn’t want to live. And it would have been so easy to turn to unhealthy habits. An extra glass of wine. Just one more pour, to get me through the next hour. But I held on. I held onto my faith. And it wasn’t easy, because I felt abandoned. And ignored. But maybe it was time. Maybe I’d relied on my mom too much. Maybe I needed to grow. I do still turn to her when I’m having a tough time. Just a couple days ago I was sitting on the edge of my bed, asking Mom for help. And when I went back outside I saw a nun walking down the sidewalk. Growing up my mom had always told me, that you can always ask a nun for a blessing. But I’d never done it. I don’t approach people like that, I’m too shy. But yesterday I did it. I was so nervous, I’m sure it was word vomit. But the nun replied: ‘Do you have time for coffee?’ We found a table and talked for an hour. She was Colombian, so we spoke in Spanish. She let me talk. She let me cry.  She broke everything down. She said ‘you are protected,’ and ‘you are loved.’Then at the end she gave me a rosary bracelet, and her phone number. ‘Call anytime,’ she said. ‘I’m here if you need me.’”

“I finally found the energy to come outside. It had been a long...

“I finally found the energy to come outside. It had been a long stretch of watching nice days go by. It’s easy to get into the prison of routine. But this morning my mom poured me a cup of orange juice. She had this song playing in the kitchen: ‘For The Good Times,’ by this old, southern artist named Al Green. Really old, even before your time. But I love it. It got me going. And by the time I finished my orange juice, I said: ‘I’m doing it. I’m going outside today.’ There was a moment of doubt when I was in the shower. There was some hair frustration. I was trying to detangle it, and it didn’t want to work with me. So I was about to give up. I was about to head back to bed. But I pushed through, and on the way out the door I grabbed my new skateboard. I just got it yesterday, $230, but worth it. Rides extra smooth. I caught the Q11 Bus to the Jamaica Avenue subway, and I didn’t even pay at the turnstile. I did this thing where the skateboard went under, and I jumped over. I did it in front of a bunch of people. And I felt like a boss: ‘yah, you saw me.’ There were some women there, and not a lot of women skateboard. So I put one on for the girls. Rode the E-train straight into the city. It’s a long ride, but at least I never had to switch trains. And now I’m here. There’s good music playing. Everyone is doing something different. And the weather is perfect. The wind is blowing, but not enough to mess up my hair. It’s completely clear. The sun is on my skin. There aren’t any clouds going over, trying to make me chilly for a few minutes. If I get too hot, I’m just gonna wander into the shade. It’s up to me. It’s one of those days I’m in complete control.”

(7/7) “I made the mistake of googling him. When we decided to do...

(7/7) “I made the mistake of googling him. When we decided to do this story, I looked him up, to see what happened when he got out of jail. And I discovered some cutesy newspaper article about his 25th wedding anniversary. There was a picture there. And I wish I’d never seen it. Because for my entire life he’d been this monster in my mind. And he didn’t look like a monster at all. There weren’t any horns. There was no tattoo across his forehead that said: ‘I’m a child abuser.’ He looked like a human. Bald and fat, like any guy in the grocery store. He wasn’t marked by what happened. Not like Gene is marked. I’d always wanted to believe that when our world stopped, his did too. I wanted him to be racked with self-hatred, and spiral into a drug addiction. But he went on to have a life. He only spent a year in prison. Then he got married, and had three kids. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest life, the photo looked like it was taken in the community center of a trailer park. But still, it was a life. He experienced things that Gene is never going to experience. And that’s not fair. Sure, in the end it’s a feel-good story. Gene turned out to be an amazing person. Gene graduated from high school. But that’s because of Gene, not this asshole. I won’t say his name. I’ve known it for 50 years, but I’m not going to say it. That much grace I can give. I won’t destroy his family, not like he destroyed mine. But I’m not forgiving him. Gene can forgive him, but not me. And I hope God doesn’t forgive him either. I hope he burns in hell. Because if the legal system forgives him, and Gene forgives him, and God forgives him, then what’s left? There has to be someplace in the universe where he’s still held accountable. So that it still happened. Fifty years ago, that monster attacked a little baby. I was just a baby. And Gene sacrificed himself to save my life. I’ve gone on to be blessed beyond all measure. I’ve had a career, and a family, and children. Things that Gene will never be able to experience. So maybe it’s the least I can do. Maybe the least I can do is carry that anger. And never forgive. So that I’m still afflicted in some way. So he’s not the only one still hurt.”

(6/7) “When I was a little boy I protected my sister from that...

(6/7) “When I was a little boy I protected my sister from that guy. So I think it’s a happy story and a sad story. The sadness that has happened to me, and the happy side of me. For a long time I thought that God wouldn’t love somebody like me, but I was also a caring person and I made an impact on the world. With the Special Olympics and everything like that, showing people I was just like them. At my job, people call me superman. I lift heavy boxes with my arm, and driving the forklift, and helping everybody. They say ‘Gene you’re a hero.’ Because of the things I can do. One day I’m going to get a new body in heaven, and I’ll be able to do all the things that other people can do. I hope the man who did this to me is there. In heaven. I believe he’ll be there. Because God says we should forgive people no matter what. And everyone deserves a second chance. So I hope he’s in heaven. And when I see him there I’d like to ask him some things. Like why did he do it to me? Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he was angry at the world, and he was angry at God. I know what that’s like because I was angry at God once. Maybe the man was really sorry about what he did. And maybe he lived with that pain for the rest of his life. So when I see him in heaven I’m going to tell him, face-to-face, that I forgive him and I love him. And then I’d like to talk to God. But not like he’s God, I want to talk to him like he’s my friend. I’m going to ask him for forgiveness. And I’m going to say: ‘Do you love me? No matter what?’ I hope he tells me ‘yes.’ And that he understands why I made the mistakes that I made. And that he forgives me no matter what. Then I’m going to ask him about the day I got hurt. Like why did it happen? Because I was just a baby, and I’m not sure why he would let somebody hurt a baby like that. And I think maybe he will start crying. He’ll tell me he saw me getting hurt that day, and he let it happen. But that it made him so sad. And he had tears running down his cheek. Seeing his son get hurt like that. And then he’ll probably tell me he’s so sorry. And I’ll tell him, face-to-face, that I still love him. And that I forgive him no matter what.”

(5/7) “One afternoon the Mormons came knocking on our door, and...

(5/7) “One afternoon the Mormons came knocking on our door, and Gene just let them right in. He couldn’t get enough of them. And they loved him too, because Gene really is the perfect audience. He’ll agree with absolutely everything you say. They started coming back week after week. And they were so loving to him. They’d take him out to eat. They’d buy him coffee. And they weren’t asking for money or anything, so my mom just let it happen. Gene eventually decided to join a Methodist church, but we still credit the Mormons for introducing him to God. The entire journey has been so healthy for him. It’s redirected him in such a great way, and Gene has finally found his place. Last year he graduated from high school. He works at the community foodbank. Things are coming together for him. In Gene’s faith, everything is part of a plan. The Big Guy has got his back, no matter what. And it’s given him so much confidence. Sometimes he still has his moments, when he goes to a dark place. When he starts feeling scared that he’ll never get married, or have a family. But he always comes back to God, who loves him unconditionally, and forgives him no matter what. For some reason Gene is huge on forgiveness. All his prayers are for forgiveness. I’ve never understood it, but he asks again and again: ‘Please God, forgive me.’ He can be so hard on himself sometimes, for not understanding, and not being perfect. He’ll fixate on the smallest mistake. And when his mind grabs onto something, he’ll carry it around forever. Last Christmas we were unwrapping presents, and when everyone was finished, Gene announced that there was one last gift. He disappeared into the other room. I’d known something was coming. Because Gene can’t keep a secret, and he’d been building it up for days. ‘You’re going to love your Christmas present so much’ he told me. When he came back he was carrying a giant box, and he was giddy with excitement. He stood over me while I opened it. I remember the room being very silent, because at first I was confused. Was it some sort of prank? But then suddenly it hit me, and I started to cry. It had taken forty years, but he’d finally gotten me that new dollhouse.”

(4/7) “Gene changed when he learned the truth. He’d spent his...

(4/7) “Gene changed when he learned the truth. He’d spent his whole life thinking that he’d been in some horrible accident. That his disability had been a stroke of bad luck, like an earthquake, or a meteor. And there was some comfort in that. But suddenly this wasn’t an accident anymore. It was personal. And after that day in the living room, Gene entered his ‘fuck the world’ phase. He started fighting with everyone in the family. And he was especially mean to me: he’d twist my arm, he’d push me down in public. To be honest, I didn’t like him anymore. None of us did. And my mother is ‘five foot nothing,’ so she couldn’t control him. Eventually things got so bad that we were going to send him out of state to live with our biological father. But I didn’t want that. Because no matter how bad he’d gotten, he was still Gene. I was in college at the time, and I’d just gotten a new apartment with an extra bedroom. So I said: ‘Let’s give it a shot. He can move in with me, just for a little while.’ And you know what? It kinda started to work. We each paid half the rent. For the first time in Gene’s life there was nobody telling him what to do. Every morning he would take the bus to his job at a landscaping company. And at night he’d come home and hang out with my friends. There was a group of us who would meet each week to play Monopoly, and Gene was always right in the middle of it. It’s always been his favorite game because he’s good at it. Every time someone landed on his boardwalk his left arm would fly into the air. He fit right in. Gene’s so easy to love when he’s being Gene. Pat him on the back once, and he’s your best friend forever. He’ll laugh and giggle at your stupid jokes. All my friends adored him. During this period we became peers, almost for the first time. Gene still loved to be silly. And he still always wanted to talk about our childhood: ‘Remember that time I rode the bike? Remember that time I sat on your dollhouse?’ He especially loved the dollhouse story. He asked me to tell it a million times. But we were talking about bigger things too. Like God. And love. And sex. It had taken a little extra time, but Gene was finally growing up.”

(3/7) “I’m old now. I’m fifty. But I remember the conversation...

(3/7) “I’m old now. I’m fifty. But I remember the conversation like it was yesterday. Gene and I were sitting on the living room couch. Both of us are convinced we’re getting in trouble, so we’re starting to pre-bond. We’re huddled together, we’re holding hands. And my mother is so nervous that she’s staring at the floor. Finally she looks up at Gene, and says: ‘You need to know what happens when people can’t control their anger.’ My mother is a storyteller. She can really paint a picture with words, so what she said next played like a movie in my head. ‘Both of you were very young,’ she said. ‘I was a single mom. I’d just joined the army, and I needed a babysitter while I went through basic training. I chose this nice, older lady. And she took very good care of you. Until one night her husband had a heart attack, and she had to rush to the hospital. She left you behind with her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend.’ At this point my mother took a deep breath. She looked like she wanted to stop with every fiber in her body. But my mother is a trained soldier, so she straightened her back and continued. This time she was looking at me: ‘Tina, you were just a baby. And you started screaming. So the boyfriend began to shake you. Then he began to beat you. He beat you so hard that he broke the bones in your body.’ Now my mother turned to Gene. She was crying at this point: ‘And Gene, Gene, you tried to stop it. You were only three years old, but you tried to stop it. You started beating against that man’s legs. So he picked you up and threw you against the wall. You almost died. And when you woke up from your coma, things just weren’t the same.’ My poor mother. She looked exhausted by the time she was finished. But she tried to comfort him. She said all the right things. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she told him. ‘I wish I could change things. But everything happens for a reason, Gene. Look how far you’ve come. Your life is going to be so big, and so meaningful.’ At this point I was traumatized. I couldn’t even look at Gene, so I was staring at my shoes. But I knew exactly what he was feeling. He was squeezing my hand so hard that his fingernails were digging into my palm.”