Sunday was a great sunny day for the Puerto Rican Day Parade,
but I had no intention of going to the celebration. Even if I
hadn't been attending the funeral service of one of the nicest
people I've ever met, Sidney Goldberg, the thought of attending
what was being touted as the largest parade yet was not the least
bit enticing. My ferry ride into Manhattan with about a thousand
raucous, flag-waving celebrants made me grateful that I was
traveling up to the West Side and they were heading toward Fifth
Avenue.
I've never been a fan of ethnic parades. I don't really see the
point in any of them, and I've never understood why they are
still held on Fifth Avenue. The last time I was at the parade,
two years ago, I was appalled at the wooden barriers erected in
front of some of the apartment buildings. Mayor Bloomberg has
appealed to the owners of those buildings not to insult Puerto
Ricans. I can't blame the building owners for trying to protect
their property if the damage occurs only during the Puerto Rican
Day Parade. But why not have the parade organizers take
responsibility for the damages or provide security measures to
prevent it in the first place? Just asking.
Most of the revelers in the ferry terminal were very young and
behaved much like a rowdy crowd fueled with alcohol going to a
sporting event. Yelling "boricua, boricua," they were
boisterous and obnoxious. One Puerto Rican woman on her way to
work shook her head, saying, "They have no class."
But neither do those college kids on spring break in Florida or
Cancun.
Much as I disapprove of the crowd's behavior, I cringe when
critics condemn the waving of the Puerto Rican flag as
unpatriotic. Puerto Ricans are citizens of the United States. In
great numbers, they have fought and died in combat for this
nation.
When I first met Sidney Goldberg two years ago, he was in his
bathrobe and his wife, Lucianne, was in a muumuu. They were
broadcasting her Internet talk show from their West Side
apartment, and I was along for the ride and a possible column.
One of the first things that endeared me to him was his terrific
sense of humor, and I quickly discovered a certain camaraderie
with another native New Yorker who had also never learned to
drive. That quirk is unique to those of us who grew up in a city
where a car is totally unnecessary. Although Lucianne may have
found his lack of automotive proficiency strange, Sidney and I
shared the same sense of relief from the responsibility of
sitting behind the wheel.
"Countless lives have been spared by the fact that I don't
drive," he said with a laugh.
It was that sense of humor that many of those gathered in the
Riverside Memorial Chapel remembered as the relatives and friends
eulogizing their beloved Sidney related sample after sample of
his wit and wisdom. The crowded room would erupt in gales of
laughter, which I'm sure would have been music to Sidney's ears.
From his sons, Joshua and Jonah, we heard how much Sidney valued
his family and how much he will be missed. Jonah noted the odd
pairing of his parents: Sidney, the Jewish conservative from the
Bronx, and Lucianne, the Episcopalian Southern JFK liberal. At
her birthday party in April, Lucianne said she knew when she
first met Sidney that she would marry him because "he made
me laugh."
I wish I had spent more time with Sidney because he possessed a
valuable trait that so many political pundits seem to lack. It's
the ability to disagree in a civil fashion. Sidney used to say
that as a conservative in the news business - he was senior vice
president for syndication at United Media - he felt as if he were
working behind enemy lines. He compared his position to that of
an early Christian working a concession stand at the Coliseum.
I had the impression that many of those in the room who knew
Sidney from the days when he was a young liberal did not follow
his journey to the far right, but they still loved him. That's
because he was never mean and he never ranted. Howard Dean could
have learned a lot from him.
So could I.