The Last Sunflower

I came around the corner of Ovington Avenue last week and saw another sign of these hideous times: “Store for Rent.”

Empty storefronts are popping up all over the neighborhood as the Covid-19 plague relentlessly marches on.

This one was personal, though, because the latest victim was the Sunflower Beauty Parlor where I used to go for these fabulous massages.

There was nothing better than bouncing in there to get an hour-long treatment.

The ladies who worked there were small, but quite strong and they used to wring me out like a dish rag.

I especially liked going there during the winter months—cold and flu season—because massages have been credited with boosting the immune system.

But they were forced to shut down, just like so many other businesses, as the pandemic continued to spread. Unlike bars and restaurants, though, they can’t reopen with limited service.

Their work involves close contact and touching other bodies, both of which are forbidden in this socially distant society.

What is going to happen to these people? What else can they do except give massages?

I feel like we’re all standing in the face of a relentless wind that is blowing away the world we know.

Apartment vacancies in Manhattan reached a record high last month as people bailed on the city and headed for cheaper places to live. I hate to see this, but, honestly, why put up with the city's prices and problems when you can't enjoy any of its riches?

‘Gotta Go to Mo’s’

Sunflowers are supposed to symbolize adoration, loyalty, and longevity, although “longevity” doesn’t seem to count for much nowadays. They’ve been described as the perfect gift to bring joy into someone’s day.

In that case, I’d like order a bunch for the entire planet.

Sunflowers were also one of my mother’s favorite flowers and since Saturday was her birthday, I try to draw strength from her memory and remember how loving and loyal she was to us.

Both she and my father lived through the Great Depression and it looks like we’re heading straight into another one. I hope I can face it with a fraction of their courage and determination.

Last week I learned that Modell’s Sporting Goods, a New York institution, had gone bankrupt and shuttered all its stores, including the one on 86th Street in Bay Ridge.

I didn’t go to that store often, but it was convenient and the thought of that massive store being empty, with all the workers losing their jobs, sickens me.

Morris Modell opened his first store in 1889 on Cortlandt Street in Manhattan, where I also used to shop, and now it’s gone.

The 86th Street store is on the site of the old RKO Dyker theater, where I used to go when I was a kid. I think I may have seen Gene Hackman in The Conversation there, but I’m not certain.

I remember the matrons would never let the kids sit in the balcony, apparently concerned we’d throw Goobers on the people down below.

I never got to the balcony area until I started going to Modell’s and rode the escalator up to the second floor.

The Dyker opened its doors on November 26, 1926 and it was equipped with a Marr & Colton 2 organ. The organ was long gone by the time I showed up and theater eventually closed down in March 1977.

The last film shown at the Dyker was another Gene Hackman movie rather disturbingly entitled The Domino Principle.

Let’s hope that title doesn’t become our epitaph.