Faster Than Amazon?

The mayor of my city and the governor of my state raise the possibility of new lockdowns, which would mean "non-essential" businesses would be closed.  Government officials in other places are also speaking of such things.

At the same time, they are encouraging people to support small businesses.  I wholeheartedly agree, whether that "small business" is a bike shop, book store or beauty salon.  

One thing I fear, though, is that this might be the "last chance" for some establishments that barely survived the lockdowns of last spring. Whatever business they do might tide them over for the next couple of weeks, or however long they can operate before they're forced to close.

Another worry is that some customers who resorted to Amazon during the lockdowns won't return to their old shopping habits.  They may have been lulled by the convenience of having PlayStations or whatever brought to their doors.

What some small business owners have done, of course, is to start making deliveries.  Luca Ambrogio Santini is one of them.

He operates LibriSottoCasa, which he describes as "the smallest bookstore in the world."  How small is it?  Oh, about the size of one of those boxes that fits on a porteur-style front rack.

Santini once operated one of the best-known independent bookstores in Milan, Italy.  That is, until rent and management costs rose too high.  So, five years ago, he started to operate without a storefront--and with a delivery bicycle. Customers place orders on his Facebook page, on Whatsapp or via e-mail, and he delivers, mainly in the southern districts of his city.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the pandemic has been good for his business.  While he concedes that Amazon and other forms of e-commerce are convenient, he says "the physical presence of the bookseller who can advise and communicate with the customer" is "an added value" that "is disappearing" but "we must not lose."

In addition to being that bookseller we all love, he has another aspiration:  "I want to be faster than Amazon."

Shut Down Without A Lockdown

 I am feeling somewhat encouraged:  Over the weekend, I managed to take two rides.  I don't know exactly how much I rode, but I guess that I pedaled about 70 kilometers on Saturday and that much, or perhaps a bit less, on Sunday.

Each trek took me through various parts of Brooklyn and Queens.  One thing is that, although I had to navigate traffic in some of the shopping areas, I found some solitude, in expected and unexpected places.

Lockdowns have been imposed in other states and countries.  There has been talk of one here, too:  Schools reverted to remote instruction last week, and if infection rates rise, "non-essential" businesses could close. (Good thing I got my hair done on Monday, even if I'm not going on a date or to any weddings, graduations or other large gatherings!)  If I hadn't known any better, I would have assumed the city had shut down when I saw this:

 

Thirteenth Avenue in Borough Park has long been a busy commercial strip.  My father grew up just off it; as a kid, I can recall trips to stores and bakeries--and pizza runs!--when we visited his parents.  In the decades since, the neighborhood has become one of the world's major Orthodox (Lubavitcher Hasidic) Jewish enclaves.  That, of course, is the reason why everything was closed--and I could ride on Thirteenth Avenue as if it were some country lane.

Well, most stores were closed because of shabat.  Gino's--yes, the destination of our pizza runs--managed to survive the changes in the neighborhood at least until a year or so ago.   Any time I was anywhere the neighborhood, I'd stop by for at least a slice or two--they were still as good as my childhood memories!--though, it seems, they stopped making arancini, one of the world's great comfort foods, some time ago.  

I know time marches on and all that, but I couldn't help but to feel what I saw from the Canarsie Pier on yesterday:

Well, I am healing, at least physically.  I suppose I'll "recover" from losing Gino's, too, even if it was one of the last old-school Brooklyn pizza joints.  

What If You’d Worn It?

 If you are, oh, about my age, you didn't wear a helmet as a kid. Perhaps you still aren't wearing one.

If you wear a helmet now, you might wonder what might have happened had you not worn one:  Perhaps that wheelie or "flip" you did--or that tumble you took--might've ended differently.

But what if you had worn a helmet?