Images And Icons

 Yesterday afternoon I meandered through back streets of central Brooklyn and Queens.  It still amazes me that even after riding those byways so many times over so many years, I still find things I hadn't noticed before.

In a still-ungentrified part of Bedford-Stuyvesant, when I chanced upon one of the best names for a house of worship.

I can't help but to wonder what services--and the music-- are like in a place called "Rugged Cross."  I also wonder who came up with that name.  Could that person have been thinking about the kinds of lives so many people in the neighborhood have lived, and still live?

Or could that person have anticipated what someone would paint directly across the street from it?

You can't paint something like that if you've grown up on Park Avenue and 72nd Street or Fisher Island--even if you watched every single Pink Panther cartoon!

A couple of miles away, in Bushwick, I had to search for the name of this church.

Even if I hadn't found it--Saint Barbara, by the way--I would've remembered the wonderful carvings and towers on it.  

The building next to it seems to have been a rectory or convent, or to have served some other church-related purpose.  Now it's the Bushwick center for El Puente, an organization that, for nearly four decades, has worked to keep young people from becoming tragic statistics.  Its founder, Luis Garden Acosta, understood something that, I believe, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. were coming to understand just before they were assassinated:  Social justice comes with educational and economic equity.  

I am not religious, but I understand that for many people who live in neighborhoods like the ones surrounding Rugged Cross and Saint Barbara, their churches were places where they could find refuge from the hardships they faced.  Knowing that, it's not so surprising to find a very urban murals across the street from one church, and next to another, in the heart of Brooklyn--and to have the privilege of seeing them on an afternoon bike ride.

Guilty Under The Lone Star?

From Biking Bis

 Back in April, cyclo-cross racer Molly Cameron denounced a new Arkansas law that would ban gender-affirming care for transgender minors.  She said that as long as such laws are in effect, “I won’t be spending my money in Arkansas” or any other state that enacts them.

In July, a Federal judge issued an injunction against the Arkansas law.  Other jurisdictions, however, have passed all sorts of laws targeting transgender people.  Such legislation includes North Carolina’s infamous “bathroom bill” and regulations that prohibit kids from playing on school sports according to the gender by which they identify themselves rather the one on their birth certificate.

Then there is Texas.  As you’ve probably heard by now, the Lone Star state has
banned nearly all abortions. But the law Governor Greg Abbot signed goes only George Orwell has gone before:  It criminalizes, not only those who “aid and abet” an abortion; it also makes it a crime to even intend such a thing.  Moreover, it deputizes everyday citizens to sue such people and potentially receive a $10,000 settlement.

In other words, the law defines a thought crime and turns Texas into what’s the old German Democratic Republic (a.k.a. East Germany) would have been if the STASI consisted of bounty hunters.  And by allowing people to sue anyone who “aids and abets”

So why am I writing about this in a cycling blog? Well, I had no intention of traveling to Texas this year for the same reasons I decided not to travel at all this year, but Texas will not be on any itinerary of mine as long as the law is in effect. Many cycling events attract participants as well as other tourists from other states and countries.  I would encourage people to avoid them, and other events in the state. I also will try not to use products or services provided by companies based in Texas.

As cyclists, we should recoil at anything that attempts to restrict or take away our agency over ourselves, whether in body or mind.  And—call me paranoid if you like—but if an Uber driver can be sued by someone who has a grudge against him or her for driving a pregnant woman to an abortion provider—or someone else can be sued for mentioning abortion (remember: “intention” is a crime)—who is safe?

Hey, if in the course of a ride I pass a snack or water to another rider who turns out to be a Planned Parenthood employee or volunteer, would I be guilty?

What Ida Did

 The sun is shining brightly and the temperature is more like one would expect at this time of day mid-May rather than early September.  But I haven’t gotten on any of my bikes.  

No, I’m not deterred by the wind, which would be strong even if today were a March or April day. Nor is the fact that I don’t have anywhere to go today is a reason for me not to ride. And, thankfully, I haven’t had another crash. (Knock on wooden rims!)

Oh, and I’m home, but not because almost everyone else is.  The reason why most of them aren’t at work or school, though, is a reason, if indirectly, why I haven’t ridden—yet.

As you have probably heard, Hurricane Ida unleashed some of her fury on this part of the world.  Although we, here in New York, haven’t experienced the same level of devastation folks in New Orleans have endured, we had the single wettest hour in this city’s history.  That record downpour eclipsed the one we experienced two weeks ago, when Tropical Storm Henri blew up this way!

So how has Ida kept me from riding, so far, today?  Well, she spilled some of her rage into my apartment.  Fortunately, Marlee is OK and neither my bikes, my books nor anything else was damaged.  And, although the lights flickered a couple of times, my apartment didn’t lose power.  Still, I spent about half of the night drying out and cleaning up. I think it wasn’t the physical labor as much as the emotional stress that has left me exhausted.

I probably will take a nap after I post this.  Perhaps I’ll be up for a late-day or early-evening ride.  Otherwise, my bikes will have to wait until tomorrow.