Who Asked Me?

“If it looks like an antenna and acts like an antenna, then it is an antenna.” This according to affably urbane Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, angered at the ‘official’ proclamation that New York’s new World Trade Center is the tallest building in the country. The needle on top was declared something other than an antenna, thereby allowing the structure to surpass the Windy City’s Willis (formerly Sears) Tower. This is one dogfight that you might have figured the famously profane politician would have let go, but at five foot seven he perhaps has a more personal investment in the matter. Outgoing New York mayor Mike Bloomberg is only an inch taller than Emanuel but the new guy, Bill de Blasio, is a soaring six foot five. It isn’t too much of a stretch (insert winky emoticon) to imagine Rahm pacing his bedroom at three in the morning, fuming over that “m**herf**cking thing” on top of that “c*cks*cking building.” New York seems mostly oblivious to the matter, or perhaps slightly amused – like Dominique Wilkins watching Spud Webb steal his title at the NBA slam dunk competition. If I were Emanuel’s shrink I’d skip the Freudian bullshit and advise him to turn his ambition toward becoming the next mayor of New York. Perhaps it’s because I’m of average height, but diminutive stature isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Bloomberg or LaGuardia.

It made me happy, for lack of a less appropriate word, up at four a.m. on a recent, chilly morning and watching the glowing, blue signal light atop that spire, or needle, or whatever the heck it is. The upper portion of the World Trade building is visible from my living room window and I caught the view almost by accident, noting profoundly “wow .. that thing is way up there.” The building’s erection (again with the winky emoticon) has mirrored my own stay in New York and progressed at a slow and steady pace. In rare moments of kinder self-evaluation I might say the same about myself. That night I’d returned from a Van Morrison show at the Garden where the 68 year old Irish fireplug had again done well by music critic Greil Marcus’s famous quote (“no white man sings like Van Morrison.”) After the show I grabbed a late night snack at a midtown bar and caught the second half of the 49er game on Monday Night Football. Cold night, Van Morrison, 49ers, quesadillas and a shot of Jameson, Midtown New York City. They say it’s the little things and, Rahm Emanuel not withstanding, they’re probably right. Though I might amend it to “the little things in a big city” for added sublimity .. sometimes that really hits the mark.