The wardrobe gods are doing just that. The glove story you know, now the other night, somewhere between ‘Look Back in Anger’ and my abode, I lost a large Nordstrom silk flower from my jacket. Have no idea when it was attached and when not. But I take consolation in the fact that I am spreading the wealth, one article of clothing at a time.
Oh the Places They Go
At times I see a baby in a baby carriage, or a toddler in a stroller around 9 am and the nanny is guiding the vehicle onto a subway car for a ride out of Manhattan. It causes me to wonder if the parents know. They’ve gone off to work and left their choice of caretaker in charge. And their caretaker of choice has all day to fill. So why should the nanny hang around in a neighborhood that is unfamiliar. Why not take the ‘charge’ back to the neighborhood where you have family and friends. Why not spend the day in familiar surroundings, returning only when required. I wonder what some of the parents would do or think if they knew their children were getting to unknown places without their approval. I wonder if some of these babies are travelling to places the parents have never been. Oh, if the babies could talk and tell. Oh if parents only really had any idea of what goes on while they are elsewhere.
Freedom
This evening, at dusk, the MTA bus was working its way south on 9th Avenue. As it approached a bus stop, I saw a few feet away from the stop on the corner was a policeman. As the bus came to a stop and I took a second glance, I saw the policeman had a man beside him, about the same height, probably in his 40’s. The second man had his hands behind his back, because they were in cuffs. All I could wonder was what he had done to be subdued and cuffed, and how that moment before changed his night’s plans. Think about it. One minute he is a free man with manageable arms and after committing something that ended up in his being cuffed, he is no longer able to direct or guide himself. He will now go through a system that treats him like a cog in the machinery. This isn’t about whether he is right or wrong or how the system works, this is just a realization that from the moment of cuffing, his night was going to be unlike his night previously. He was now going to be part of a system over which he had no control. He was now going to be at the mercy of officers and others who do not necessarily see him as an individual. It is at moments like this, I realize what freedom really means. Freedom from being touched if you don’t want to be touched. Freedom to flail your arms if you wish, freedom to run, or skip or hop, or just sit. At the moment of his cuffing his freedom is gone. It stayed with me a long time.
Doors in the Sidewalk
Tonight it struck me. I have not mentioned the doors in the sidewalk. The restaurant is above ground, but the kitchen and certainly the supplies are in the basement. And often as not, this basement is accessible only via these doors in the sidewalk. You walk over them daily. They look like mid-west hurricane cellar doors. You don’t really notice them except often there is a padlock over which you must step. But come the busy time for the restaurant, most often evening, the doors open. You can see a conveyer belt to transport supplies and stock. There are stairs which the lowest server on the totem pole has to climb many times with many loads. When you pay attention to the activity, it is rather like watching bees coming and leaving the hive. It makes sense there must be a place for storage. What takes one by surprise is that the access to the storage is in the sidewalk, not inside the establishment.
St Pat’s Night
It’s another good excuse for excessive drinking, this Saturday night of March: St Pat’s Day. So very funny how many New York Italians are Irish for the night!
Luckily for the pub-crawlers, it’s another warm balmy night like late spring. Having had a long day of auditions, I am home before the night ends and so won’t observe how it will end badly for some. I also don’t happen to like my beer green. On my way from place B to C I passed one spatting couple and the night was still young. Oh the results of revelry.
Asleep
…not at the wheel, but almost. As I wait for the subway cars to come to a stop so I can board, I see one of the middle cars which has a small windowed compartment in it, pass by. A trains-person [would have said trainsman but they are also female] sits in there and at each stop, you may approach their window and ask them questions if you are unclear about the train’s route etc. Often, they are the clarity one needs if there is a change in schedule. As this compartment passes by my view, I look and see the person inside is asleep. Their head is laying tight on their chest. I board. While riding to my stop, I begin to wonder if the trains-person is asleep or are they dead? How would one know? I ponder this until I disembark. I make a point of walking back to the little compartment, and there she is: bright and cheery and looking out the window at the comings and goings on the platform.
Fire the Rodent
Yesterday was 72 degrees. And it is mid-March. Started the morning by donning a winter coat ended the afternoon with leaving it at the cleaners. [Which I discovered for the price of cleaning will store it from Now to October. With minute closet space, that is a deal; wonder if I will see it again?] Today on the street, everyone is sans outer garments and it feels and looks like spring. This must be the end of winter, right? There is no such thing as snow in April!?
Even More The Bus
Surprisingly busses are clean; until this past week when I noticed a bit of brown, crusty spotting on a few of the front blue seats. Unlike the subway, the seats are covered in a type of fabric. [the seats in the subway are all molded plastic]. I notice that others and myself avoid sitting on those places with ‘corduroy’. A bus is better at rush hour than a taxi. because above all other forms of traffic, the bus has the right of way. If a bus is pulling up to a stop or away from one, it is the car-truck-taxi driver that best yield. It’s the law and everyone used to City driving knows it. On some main thoroughfares such as 5th Avenue, Broadway there are restricted lanes, like HOV for busses. Time is usually well spent getting there by bus. This is valid only if you want to stay above ground.
Not!
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Not! Went into Bloomingdale’s on 59 & Lexington. Had not been in there for years. The present layout is so unlike an old-concept department store – as say Macy’s, I was stunned. It is like a mini-mall housing different boutiques. Gone is the general jewelry department with cases of fashion jewelry. Rather there are name brand boutiques. Idem ditto with the handbag department. No longer a jumble of brands for easy name and price comparison. Now it is one singular brand, repeated each time for each separate brands. I had to ask myself why I would buy a bag from Louis Vuitton inside B’dales, when I could go to the LV store and be singularly fussed over. I am still waiting on the answer.
Overheard
Two women passed me on the sidewalk, going in the opposite direction. As they passed, I heard the older one say to the younger one ‘ I want to feel like I deserve Spring’. And then they were out of ear shot. It was 70 degree weather on this early March day; not exactly City Winter Weather. But I thought to myself upon contemplation, isn’t that expressed thought an inconvenient truth? Why put yourself through something you don’t like, to appreciate what you do like. Why not just enjoy more of what you do like, when you get it, without judging how or when. Or are we all so Western we think we have to suffer to enjoy a wished for state. Guess that is where religion got paradise and why it works for many as a way to get through today; get through today without being in today, because one is so focused on the future. I felt sad for her.