Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of Notes from the Breadline, a column by a laid-off lawyer in New York. Prior columns are collected here. You can reach Roxana St. Thomas by email (at roxanastthomas@gmail.com), follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook.

Last week, we brought you Scenes from the Breadline, in the form of my very own photo essay on unemployment. You may recall that, in the communitarian spirit of all Homework Assignments from the Breadline, I also asked you to submit photographs, drawings, or other images that depicted, reminded you of, or documented your experience of life in the breadline.

First, I extend my heartfelt thanks to those who sent their own pictures from the breadline. For what it’s worth, my empirical research indicates that you are strict constructionists: you construed the assignment narrowly, and responded almost universally with photographs, rather than pictures scrawled in crayon, found art, or collages made from your unemployment check receipts and Ramen soup labels. (I mention this not as a criticism, but as a reminder that I welcome any and all of your creative efforts on an ongoing basis. I like to hang them up on my refrigerator, so that I can be reminded — while making soup- - of the excellent company I keep here in the breadline.)

Second, while I love you all the same, I must note that the New Yorkers amongst you responded in force. Perhaps it is because we are intransigent overachievers, and take homework assignments seriously (no matter who doles them out). Perhaps it is because signs of the recession are so visible here, and so ubiquitous. Either way: thanks, home team! And thank you, friends and readers from every outpost of the breadline. As always, you did a fantastic job.

Without further delay, we bring you (more) Scenes from the Breadline.

Like me, a number of you saw empty stores and failing businesses as a sign of the times. One reader loved the contrast between the sign on the wall in this store and the “For Rent” sign in the window. Apparently, the message wasn’t compelling enough. Also, note the determination with which the wheels of capitalism keep a-turnin’, as evidenced by the red sign reflected in the glass. More, now, again?

These two pictures came from Rob, who writes, “This store is in the financial district in Manhattan—on John Street. In early September, I thought this “Grand Opening” seemed pessimistic, even ITE [“in this economy’].”

But, he continues, “By the beginning of October, things had gotten worse.”

Another reader, Stephanie, reminds us that breaking up is hard to do. “This is my old Starbucks … the one I used to go to during the workday,” she explains. “I can’t bear to go there anymore. It’s too full of memories from a relationship that ended too suddenly and left me feeling lost.”

Beth sent us a picture of this sign, which is outside a neighborhood store. “Every time I walk by it, I read the first line and think ‘why … yes! I do!’ I know I’m a little overqualified, but would it be weird if I applied anyway?”

These two pictures came from Stacey, who tells us that “both of these spaces used to be occupied by high-end clothing stores. I was surprised to see new businesses opening [in this economy], but it makes a certain kind of sense. People don’t want pricey threads; they want a way to eat out for under $10 (especially if it involves sugary goodness). Nothing in the crepe place costs more than that, and I don’t know yet about the Mediterranean joint, but, realistically, how much could you spend on hummus, olives, and pita bread?”

Motorcycles were on the minds of a few readers. Craig writes, “I’ve noticed a proliferation of motorcycles and scooters on the streets in Manhattan lately. I wonder if it’s because of gas prices. Or car prices.”

But what about motorcycle prices? Another reader, Steve, sent us this shot from a Manhattan bike shop. “I’ve been stopping by this dealership, where they sell Ducatis and Truimphs, for years; for me, it’s like a peep show (featuring fast motorcycles, rather than hot babes). The bikes pictured here are all used: the guys who work there told me that they have never had so many people who are desperate to sell the shiny toys they bought in better times. I pictured distraught men, fighting back tears as they leave the keys to their beloved bikes there. I wonder whether they tell the bike it’s going to live on ‘the farm’?” Next stop: Huffy ten-speed?

Speaking of motor vehicle-related love and loss, Jim sent us this shot, depicting a sign for the evil phenomenon known as “alternate side parking.” “When I was laid off from a Big Law Firm,” he explains, “I couldn’t bear to get rid of my car. But I did get rid of my parking spot in an expensive garage. So, for me, life in the breadline involves the oppressively tedious and inconvenient ritual of sitting in my car during alternate-side parking, so I won’t get a ticket. Sometimes I get work done, sometimes I read. Mostly I fantasize about what it was like to be able to afford a garage.” Jim: you had me at “car.”

Another friend sent us this photo. “I’m not a laid-off attorney,” she writes, “I’m a deferred attorney. And this pic has nothing to do with the law, but this is a house I drive by on the way to the grocery store here in Seattle, WA. The sign has been up in the window for the past year. I don’t know what it means, but I think it’s fitting.”

Mariam, who recently observed her one-year “anniversary” in the breadline, sent me this image from her journey. “This is a screen shot of a twitter feed from earlier this year when I was stuck at the unemployment office,” she explains. Of her year-long odyssey, she writes, “It’s not a happy anniversary, but I’m alive, and there’s still hope.” Godspeed to you, Mariam!

Finally, some of you may remember Mike, who shared his story with us a while back.

Mike was laid off last July, just after his 58th birthday. Life in the breadline was difficult for him, he told us - although, on the bright side, it had also given him the “opportunity to read poetry again,” “landscape the backyard,” and do “plumbing, electrical, and carpentry work on his son’s new house.” Apropos the latest Homework Assignment from the Breadline, Mike shared this photo, of one of his backyard projects, with me.

But he also shared something even better, and far richer, than I could have imagined. In a recent email, he told me:

My exile from Big Law has ended as I supposed it would: suddenly and unexpectedly. I got a call on Wednesday from a sizable downtown firm. I hadn’t recalled sending them a resume until he said he received it LAST JULY. They really DO keep them on file!

Mike described how he “arrived [for his interview] and stepped into a Big law office for the first time in over a year.” After meeting with partners for several hours, Mike felt that he had “passed that test,” although he was “getting hoarser by the second — I hadn’t talked so much in over a year!”

How did the interview end? I’ll let him tell you. They “MADE ME AN OFFER,” Mike wrote. “Back on the chain gang.”

On that note: thank you, dear readers, for sharing your experiences - in all their visual splendor — with me! And thank you, Mike, for leaving us with an image of the “After” that continues to elude so many of us. That it happens to be an image of life on the chain gang … well, that may be a discussion for another day. But I’m sure you look fabulous in stripes.
______________________________________________________________________
Roxana St. Thomas is a laid-off lawyer living in New York. You can reach her by email (at roxanastthomas@gmail.com), follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook. And check out the Notes from the Breadline t-shirt store here.

Earlier: Prior installments of Notes from the Breadline