Friday, September 11th, 2020

The traveling band moves through the city square, playing in ⅞ time.They all wear bright colors and white chef’s hats. Those whose mouths aren’t making music wear flamboyant masks. The singer, guitarist, and bass guitarist carry small amplifiers on their backs. The tuba player, saxophonist, and drummer move around them. A tall man tosses juggling clubs in the air. A woman in a furry tutu dances with a hula hoop. When they get to an open space, the musicians form a circle around the juggler and dancer. The two toss the clubs between them, spinning and jumping as they juggle. A woman with a toddler stands near me, watching. The tall juggler calls out to us, “Come, mother and child! Come, uncle!” I figure that they’re busking for donations, but I don’t see anyone collecting them. This doesn’t appear to be an official event. The shops haven’t turned their overhead music off. The band sits down in chairs around a table outside the shop with the cryptic sandwiches. They continue to play. After a while, they rise and cross the street. Outside the Heart of the City, two men from Chabad stand at their usual table, trying to get people to put on tefillin and say some prayers. The band sees them and launches into a chassidic tune, a cappella. The men join in, singing and clapping on the one and on the three. The band surrounds them in a half-circle behind the table as they sing together. They gradually switch to their instruments, accompanying the chabadniks. At the end of the song, they all wish each other a good Sabbath. The band plays another tune and dances into the open space at the center of the mall. The song plays in my head for the rest of the day.