“New york and umbrellas…umbrellas and New York…Its an everlasting struggle…” screamed the Hustler. “The hot air of new york is strong and powerful…and the umbrellas are fragile in make…but resilient in number…New York and umbrellas….umbrellas and New York”. They don’t belong together, he thought. They hate each other., while, one tries to be itself…nice and open….the other is ‘bent’ upon…turning it inside and out and bending it in.The struggle is intense and the wind will always win., but right from the ashes…broken and bent and turned inside out., rises another one…a strong black umbrella. Worth only $3, but costs five in the rain. The value of a sacrificial lamb is always higher than one in the farm. “its five dollars…like it or not…take it or leave it….take two…”, the hustler says…”cos its bound to break…the five dollar one….its bound to break…umbrellas and new york…new york and umbrellas…they never go together…take two for today…maybe one will survive for tomorrow…long enough to buy two more….number is their only defense…the poor things…five dollar each…take two…take two for eight…”, says the hustler…as New York takes a break…and stops breathing….and blowing down the neck…of the poor defenseless umbrellas…
But then came the wizard….along with his dame…the good looking witch…dressed for New York…hanging ear-rings…and hair parted in half….she could control the wind..she thought…with her magic and charm…she wore her summer dress..nice and green…to match her face, the weather would be clean…Was she gullible…oh she was…within no time…along times square…down broadway…and 7th av….came howling the wind…the rain in her face…blowing hard…she lost her ear-rings…and her matching dress…was all mud and grease…oh..the wind and the cold…the water and the chill….her hair stood up…it sizzled and sparkled…she wanted revenge….she made an umbrella…dark and strong…unbreakable it was…it was nice and long…she made a million of them and many more…and gave it to the rich, and to the poor….’take one…take more until there isn’t anymore’
The city puffed its cheek…its break was over…million of black little things…all over new york….’I'll break them all…all over again’…the wind blew…the rain came…through the tunnels and in between the storeys…thousands of them, on top of another….The umbrellas stood…firm and strong…refusing to break…they stood hard and long… The witch laughed and pulled out her mirror…with the umbrella in one hand and green mascara in another…The witch laughed and looked proud…The wind blew, and now harder…the umbrellas didn’t break…but caught the wind…the huge gusts of wind in each umbrella…and up flew the witch…without her broom…along with the new yorkers…hanging onto their umbrellas…better to be wet than be in flight…all the new yorkers knew why the umbrellas broke…and they wished this one too…would soon break into two…with that last wish….The witch’s spirit broke….she flew away…along with the wizard…bottle of beer still at hand and wondering if the name of the waitress was Barbara Streisand …
The witch flew away, the summer arrived…nice and sunny…
out came the shades, the shorts and the skirts…
This is New York and who told you first?
PS: Don’t miss the summer dresses.
