Birgit Rathsmann and I had the raft ready early,
and everyone was right on time at Plank Road.
We boarded as the sun was getting low on the horizon,
and headed slowly down the Newtown Creek toward Manhattan.
It was Coco Fusco’s birthday, and she had assembled the perfect crew for this floating island: Coco’s son Aurelio brought his friend Sho, and when he introduced himself, I breathed a secret sigh of relief. We had a graduate of the New York Harbor School on board!
Also Christy Gast (a veteran voyager), plus Chico MacMurtrie, Luise Kaunert, their daughter, and the artist Grethell Rasúa. That was our excellent crew.
Coco had prepared a beautiful feast, and we turned the raft into a dinner table,
plus a cake.
We toasted her good health in the coming year.
“I wanted to dance into my 60s,” she said, referring to her last birthday salsa party.
“And this time we’re floating.”
When the raft was underway again, our conversation turned to Cuba.
Coco has spent years translating for people caught in immigration cases, and raising awareness for the artist and former political prisoner Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara. He would be released soon, after five years in a Cuban prison. Coco would be flying later this summer to see him and participate in an Amnesty International event in his honor.
“In Cuba?” I asked, forgetting for a second that this event would be in Miami, of course, not Havana.
“No,” she said. “I can never go back.” The weight of the sentence hit me: a simple, permanent fact.
Back toward Plank Road, the Kosciuszko Bridge lit our path down the creek like a soaring disco.
The group made their way back to their cars,
through one of my favorite parts of the creek: its wild shoreline.
“Thistle,” Christy pointed out.
Then through my other favorite part, the sanitation parking lot.
Birgit and I secured the equipment further up the creek and chatted into the night.
What could we use the raft for next?
A floating film series?
We’ll find out next summer!
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