Oral History

“Objects of Affection”


By James Yeh, originally published in the Believer (2020)



Photo by Ashley Gates

This is an ongoing weekly oral history project about newfound, pandemic-era bonds.

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Uncertain times beget uncertain feelings. Amid a global crisis, we find ourselves feeling, well, not ourselves. Maybe we feel more kindly toward a challenging loved one, previously disliked authority figure, or Zoom-facilitated gathering. Lately I’ve noticed this manifesting on my Instagram feed: a collection of empty glasses captioned “WFH colleagues”; a liquor cabinet titled “happy family”; a distressingly fetal-looking carrot that is a “new friend.” Over Zoom book club, a friend told us how she was now “touching plants a lot” and thinking of them as people.

For me, locked down in North Brooklyn for the past sixty-plus days, I have been listening with new ears to Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” that schmaltzy number I’ve never much cared for but now voluntarily, joyfully, submit to hearing each night in my local park, played at 7:02 PM, after our customary clapping for essential workers.

We listen as the song is performed by a tall, bearded man with a shaved head named Kayvon Afshari, who cranks the song through his home speakers in a modern building bordering the park. On recent days, Kayvon, a documentary filmmaker, has taken to donning a gray suit and bright tie for the occasion. He croons, he belts, he executes Rockette kicks. Then he switches into a T-shirt, straps on an electric guitar, and turns up the gain to accompany Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” Almost everyone who is watching is also filming, myself included.

Continue reading at The Believer.