Unlike John Galt, Lenny Melfi was not a figment of Ayn Rand’s imagination, although he would probably be the antithesis of the Atlas Shrugged mystery man.
After noticing the crane in the sky when i was walking down First Avenue in Manhattan and wondering which QB, if any, could hit one of the two American flags on top of it…i paid especial attention to that construction site as i walked by, and saw this beam on about the 5th tier:
It’s yet another building being erected by NYU, which by my estimate owns around 30 buildings between 14th and 42nd Streets on the east side of Manhattan–over a billion dollars worth of real estate in my estimate–so that really had me wondering who the hell Lenny Melfi was…so i googled it
The only thing the Daily News obit for him revealed about his personality was that he was an avid Rangers and Giants fan. something not unusual for construction workers of my generation since both the Rangers and Giants were always considered blue-collar workers…Eli Manning and Wayne Gretsky were the first prima donnas for both organizations.
The Container Diaries shows that me and Lenny lived the same life although worlds apart–we had confronted the Machete Man one Tuesday night of P-Funking after Monty Python’s Flying Circus…but Lenny lived in the same sphere–fun loving kids who came of age in the who had no qualms of giving peace a chance…and we almost made it
One has to imagine what your friends, co-workers, and even strangers like me will do in way of homage when death knocks on your door to appreciate the life that Lenny must’ve led.
For those of you who are regular readers, i’m as much an asshole in life as i AM on the internet…so if i was an iron-worker i sincerely doubt there’d be a beam facing First Avenue at 26th Street paying homage to moi.
Being an artist, let’s not forget what Lenny Melfi WAS–a working class mensch who will never be as beloved as Oprah–but still an example of where the American Dream can take you–above the cacophany of the mindless masses honking their horns as they impatiently head uptown on the never-ending road to Nowhere–invulnerable nothings whose cold hopes swarm like worms within their living clay.
A savage nation is like a house divided…..