On the 1 train this morning, going to an appointment, was wearing a hat. A hat that does resemble those worn by Canadian Mounties, but I like it. An African American man got on the stop after I boarded and as he passed me I was silently admiring his jacket. It was black and white with a repetition of an animal black against a white background. While I was thinking of this, he in passing says “Love your hat”. I reply. ‘Thank you”, and he says, “I do like it, it looks well, sexy”. Now at my age, anything that even tips the scale in that direction is a plus. He continues to the end of the sparsely populated car and after a very short announcement, begins to sing a Sam Cooke song. Then another. He has a paper bag for collecting tips. He comes back my way, and I have something ready for him, because 1. he has a beautiful voice and it made the atmosphere more pleasant, and 2. he didn’t share his sob story. We all have a sob story. As he approaches, I say ‘You have a beautiful voice, do you sing gigs here in the City”? And he sits down beside me. Says his voice is God given and he does sing elsewhere and he says, “Let me sing you another song by Sam Cooke because he was a substitute father in my life”. He sings two songs while seated. When he stops, I thank him, we speak to what instruments he plays: the harp, the sax, the congas, drums and a 5th. Needless to say he was an impressive musician. He exits at 59th. I stand to leave at 66th and this WASP young man across the aisle from me says “Yes, he did have a beautiful voice”. And we continue the conversation until the door opens and I step out. Still wearing my hat!
And no. he didn’t complement me just to be paid!