New York City Street Scenes, 1980s, 1990s

1980s: On East 11th off Second one day, I'm sitting in the car waiting for a friend who's gone into the Russian luncheonette -- doubt it's there anymore -- for finest-kind potato soup. Up the street from behind me comes a gigantic black guy with a huge salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a colorful dashiki and a matching kofia hat, both looking a bit bedraggled, his black rubber boots flopping open, their metal clasps clattering with each step. In his his massive hands he holds a pair of tiny white rubber little-girl boots. "Freshly stolen boots for sale," he's bellowing. A young white female cop approaches from the other direction, and he breaks off. "Hello, Helen," he says. "Hiya, George, howareya?" she replies. They pass each other, keep walking. "Freshly stolen boots for sale!" he roars. "Freshly stolen just this morning! Get 'em while they're hot, ha ha ha!"

1990s: Across from Mary Immaculate Hospital in Jamaica one day I see two old alkies. They're carefully inspecting a little diamond-shaped black-on-yellow plastic sign that's dangling on the inside of the back passenger window of a huge gleaming black Mercedes. MD plates. One of them looks up at me with rheumy, bloodshot eyes. "Poor basset," he says, gesturing at the Mercedes, "Can't even 'ford a goddam radio."