After brainstorming with the neighborhood, we finalized the concept: a scene of the kids from the street, playing and hanging out, talking about their future.

I got up this morning, gathered a few kids, and told them our plan. We are going to paint the coolest mural in Harlem. And we are going to work together and it’s going to be a lot of fun. We had buckets of black and white, and a bucket of each primary color. Once one kid was painting, every building emptied into the street to help. Last night, lying in bed, I wouldn’t imagine my greatest difficulty today would be how to turn away help.

Kids love to paint, but they don’t like painting in the lines. God love ‘em, this is going to be a long week.

The community is so amped! I mean, when people see others making their community a better place, they aren’t afraid to tell you that you are doing a good job. I’ve met dozens of new kids and even more adults today. Man, it is looking good! I’m going to have to post the pictures on this page.

This evening Pat and I rollerbladed down the riverside. It was the perfect time of the day. The sun had set and everything but the sky and mirroring water seemed to turn a charcoal gray. There is such a peace at that time of the day. Maybe it is a sense of helplessness, a sense of humility that settles on us, knowing that we can’t keep the sun from rising or setting. Maybe it is the reality that the day has come and gone, whether we like it or not.

We ate dinner at on odd spot. It is like some sort of European ruins by the water. There were stone walls, stairs, arches, and fountains… Pat told me that this was a spot caught on the first “Real World, New York.” Julie spent the night here with homeless people. Ten years ago, this was a “Reagan Bill,” a village of government tents for the homeless of New York. Now it is a hip hang out for Upper Westside yuppies. It was so surreal.

Back at the house, Pat slid down the wall to sit down, and sliced his finger on a piece of glass. I recalled my Boy Scout knowledge and gave him a sock to apply direct pressure. After an hour, he insisted we go to the hospital to get stitches. The ER seemed to be entertained by “that kid from the Real World” and his bleeding friend. Pat’s hand stopped bleeding and we went home before Pat could sign in. I made him pay for the cab.