Homage to a hero

I managed to reach middle age(yes, smartasses, I do expect to live to be 120,) without even a minor brush with the law, if you don't count that 1970 anti-war demonstration when I, whose most foul words to that date were "damn" and "lousy," repeatedly screamed, "fuck you, Agnew" at the top of my lungs and was forced to run at my top speed of 3 mph to evade arrest, making my first "fuck you" ever particularly memorable. I had intended to go to my heavenly reward sans rapsheet, but Sunday those plans were thwarted. By way of background, let me explain that I have always revered Pete Seeger. So when I heard there was a concert at Damrosch Park to celebrate his life, how could I not go? Pete was the epitome of sincerity and goodness. Would I be able to look at myself in the mirror on Monday if, instead of going to the concert, I stayed home to view cat videos? No. So I and another ardent fan, E, agreed to go. The concert was to begin at 4 p.m. We got there at 2 p.m. The line for seats in front of the stage stretched from 64th Street, up Amsterdam Avenue to 69th Street. Pete was 94 when he died. I presume people began to line up when he turned 90 just in case he might die in the next five years and there would be a memorial concert. It was clear we wouldn't get any of those seats. The area in front of the Beaumont has comfortable, movable woven metal chairs. We sprinted there to grab some. The chairs, although movable, were not exactly easily portable, weighing 20 pounds each and having no hand holds. I had grabbed a smaller chair, which I carried across the front of the Metropolitan Opera to a perfect spot in the shade at the rear of Damrosch Park, without maiming myself or anyone else. E, on the other hand, had taken a winged armchair, which was bigger than she was, and in lugging it to our shady refuge,did not collide with anyone, but may have incurred a latent back sprain. Our spot was delightful. Shady, breezy. We ate our lunch. We chatted. We had been seated no longer that 10 minutes when a uniformed guard approached us. "You have to put those chairs back." Me: "I'm not putting the chairs back. I'm staying right here." Guard: " You have to put the chairs back."Me: "Well I'm not going to." E: "Why should we put them back." Guard: "Because you have to." A round robin of this confrontation ensued. It was evocative of "You must pay the rent." " I can't pay the rent." "You must pay the rent." "I can't pay the rent." The guard walked away, perhaps to get reinforcements. Inspired by the concert honoree, I said to E, "I'm not moving." E agreed and broke out in a hearty rendition of "We shall not be moved," to which I joined in. I like passive resistance because it generally means "sitting," which is something I do well. Unfortunately, this passive resistance created a problem. I couldn't get up to pee because I was afraid either that the guard would take the opportunity to grab the chair or, as there were no other chairs in our vicinity, a standing audience member would grab the chair. I have been to many outdoor concerts, and no matter where I sat, even if it was 12 blocks away, I needed earplugs. And we were perfectly positioned at the rear of the park. At 4 o'clock the concert was to begin. We heard nothing. There was chatter all around us. "Is anyone singing?" "Do you hear anyone?" "I don't hear anything."I should point out that the entire audience was comprised of people who could have been at Woodstock. The woman sitting on the concrete in front of us had her lap top open and was live streaming the video of the concert. "Judy Collins is singing," E said to the people near us. "Oh, Judy Collins," every sighed as they said,"I love her." We saw Arlo's daughter and Harry Chapin and his daughters. We saw people dancing. We heard not a note. This was the only underamplified concert in the annals of concerts. Our seats were terrific though and the audience was very congenial. We would have stayed until the end of the concert, but I was afraid that I might have to pee in situ, which might give the guard good cause to arrest me. We left at 6 and were among the first to leave, which was odd considering, everyone had come for the concert, but no one could hear the concert. We were not arrested, but it was as close as I hope to come to prison. E and I did Pete proud. We stood up for what we thought was right. Well, we didn't exactly stand up, but you get the idea. Had a NYC Police officer asked us to relinquish those chairs, would we have stood our ground? Are you kidding? I'd die if I had to share a bathroom.