The Family in Union Square - Review by philipGtaylor

Union Square
4may2015

“Gonna take a walk down to Union Square;

you never know what you gonna find there.”
---The Velvet Underground

The night was warm and close on the heels of the daylight when I made my way to the steps of Union Square with my mandolin on my back. The scene was so typical of New York that it could have been from a movie: taxi cabs and tour busses crammed the street, car hones blared as a crowd of pedestrians filtered along the sidewalk; The steps leading up to the square were occupied by people sitting, grabbing a piece of rest from the chaotic activity of the city; the raised platform of the square was host to a net-less volleyball game and, further back, an impromptu group of dancers performed a variety of moves as a crowd of spectators looked on. After taking a few seconds to acclimate to this riotous sea of humanity, I spotted the bleached hair of my friend sitting in a circle of people playing guitars; I had found my destination.

I warily approached the group: for the most part, musicians tend to be an welcoming community, but they have a tendency to be put-off by another musician assuming a place in their midst without invitation; also, this group was comprised of young travellers, a group colloquially labeled “street kids”, and although I have spent a great deal of time with street kids over the years and had some of the best experiences of my life in their midst as a young traveller, one cannot always know, at first sight, if the bane of the street scene, Meth, has corroded the kindness and stability of that particular group.

My concern was unfounded; what I encountered was a prime example of what is sometimes referred to as “the travelling family”: a gathering of people who have left their homes and past lives behind, and have gone out into the world with exploration and adventure as their primary purpose. The Family can be found in any major city, usually at a crossroads where performance doesn’t require a city permit, and tourists are likely to be generous with their change. If you play music or dance, juggle or tumble, skate or sing, and above all are kind, open and accepting of differences, you will be welcomed into the Family with open arms. Once you are a part of this group, they will share all they have with you, protect and defend you to the last, (so long as you do the same for them without thought,) and I had the opportunity to be witness to an example of such selflessness that evening.

After introductions were made with welcoming smiles all around, several of us began to jam; two of the guitarists were far and away more skilled musicians than I was, but we managed to find each other’s rhythms, and before long a young woman began to sing along to our instrumental trio; the two guitars furiously picked away at a metallic complex back-and-forth of chords and leading melodies as the singer found harmonies to the blindingly-paced notes, all the while I did my best to find my mandolin’s place among the shifting scales.  This went on for an undeterminable amount of time when a volleyball smacked an onlooker from the Family in the back of the head; the boy, without thinking, flipped “the bird” over his shoulder toward the volleyball group, and that’s when the trouble began.

The young man who had hit the ball came rushing over, shirtless and taught with fury, and began yelling at the boy who had carelessly thrown up his middle finger. The offending boy (who was in reality also a young man, although pale and not physically intimidating) was terrified; the onslaught of verbal abuse coming from the physically intimidating man was full of viciousness and bruised ego. Upon seeing this, one of the fit members of the Family came to the boy’s defense, doing his best to calm the angry man while refusing to be intimidated by the man’s flamboyant aggression and literal “in your face” attitude. The man demanded an apology, saying that if anyone flipped him off, he’d “beat your whole family” (referring to the rest of us). The man’s friends finally managed to ease him away and get him involved with the volleyball game. Some of these stayed behind to apologize to the Family for the man’s intimidation. We all shook hands and told each other there was no harm done, and everyone went back to their occupations, us to our music, and them to their game.

The jam went on, taking many forms and involving many players. Some filtered in an out, occupied by a hacky-sac circle or engrossed in conversation, but we were all participating in the communal event; food and wine were passed freely around the circle, carried along by laughter. I spent the rest of the evening at Union Square filled with joy; here was a group of people who would risk everything to protect their own. This group is not bound together by blood or law, but their connection is stronger than that of many traditional families. They live with so much less than most people have in this country, yet they share all of it with each other. I have been blessed to be a part of this group, and cannot express my gratitude at finding the Family well and strong here in New York City.