Monthly Archives: July 2010

Some Like It Hot

Posted on by
Reply

The temperature hit 102º in New York City.  That is hot.  And everyone is complaining.  As if air-conditioning were a G-d-given human right.

Doesn’t anyone remember that there was no (consistent) air conditioning in subways and on buses until the mid 1980s?  So, everyone, chill (as it were).

It is hot out but if you are young (or middle-aged, like me) and healthy, suck it up a little and drink plenty of water.  Save the electricity for the young, the elderly and the infirm.  You’ll also help save the Polar Bears, reduce over-consumption and probably perserve the planet for our children. 

Also, save electricity for the world’s heads of state.  They all have to keep cool, too, in this crisis-ridden world.

Share

Hot Town, Summer in the City

Posted on by
Reply

On Sunday, I went for a run along the Hudson River.  The City has constructed a bike/walk/run path all along the River.  It is really terrific.

Sunday was hot, hot, HOT in the City.  So, City dwellers actually had a fair reason to be scantily-clad (as opposed to other days when there is no good reason to flash so much flesh).  And runners were especially scantily clad.

I, on the other hand, wore knee-length, tight-fitting shorts under the usual running shorts.  If my legs didn’t do a jello impression when I ran, I would have just used the short running shorts.  But I am 46 and, at a certain age, more clothes are way more attractive.  So, athletic gear goes into my “more is better” category. Compared to others, I was dressed like a nun.

I am not a runner for the sake of running.  I run so that I can fit into my clothes.  I run outside sometimes so that my skin doesn’t have that pallor sported by Woody Allen.  Clearly, I will take any opportunity to stop.  By the time ran to the 79th Street Boat Basin, I was tired, bored of running, and wondering about do-it-yourself liposuction with a vacuum.  So, I stopped. Running that is.  I didn’t stop thinking about the DIY liposuction.

While I was heaving and coughing and making a mental note to Google liposuction, I noted two couples walking along the water.  The women had on hose and skirts and little jackets and the men were in ties and pin-stripe suits.  This was not the orthodox Jewish look and even orthodox Jews try to look a little casual on Sundays (as if just wearing a baseball cap will make a person forget the long beard, black coat, long hair locks and prayer garment fringes).

These were not the usual Sunday Church-goers.  The pin-stripes and the pantyhose indicated they were a special type of Church-goers. Of course, I had to investigate further and walked over to them as they looked out onto the Hudson River.  As a cover, I coughed and heaved a little more.

Before they moved away from me because I sounded like I had a dread disease AND I was sweating profusely, I saw that they had name tags (so convenient for me).  These were the kind that a hotel concierge has; ones that are used daily.  No throw-away types.  These people DO what their name tags say and what they do required TWO lines of print:

BELIEVERS IN THE

LORD JESUS CHRIST

Well, all right, then.  No other name necessary, I guess.  JC will cover it.

I walked away a little overwhelmed.  (And, wished I had a Dyke March t-shirt.)  Maybe I should have asked whether they were in town to catch some theater.  Maybe they were taking in a little theater while walking along the River.  Life IS a carnival.  And maybe they were someone else’s street theater, too.

Share

What to celebrate on this Fourth of July

Posted on by
Reply

Fourth of July is a cool holiday because we celebrate ourselves.

I feel guilty about having a barbeque on Memorial Day weekend, because we rarely remember those who have given their lives for our freedom.

On Thanksgiving, we are supposed to be grateful for turkey even though I don’t know anyone who really likes that foul fowl.

And I always think we should work on Labor Day.

Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc., always about someone else.

Our birthdays are all about us but no one can ever take the day off (except union workers) without guilt.

The Fourth of July is a big ego fest.  It is about us — you and me.

So, indulge!

(Did I lose track of the meaning of this day off somewhere?  Hmmm.  I need to rad a little history, I guess.  Hmm.  TOMORROW.)

Share

Signs and Portents in New York

Posted on by
Reply

Yesterday I was walking past a building where a delivery was being made.  I couldn’t see the company logo, just the shirt backs of the two delivery men.

One said, “The First Guy,”

and the other said, “The Other Guy“.

Funny and true and sad.  We readily let two guys into our apartment and we have no idea their names.  If we had to talk about the delivery, we would say, “the First Guy asked where we wanted the sofa and the Other Guy brought it in on the wheely-thing and then the First Guy asked me to sign the receipt.”

Reminds me of my housekeeper years ago when I was a bachelorette.  I left a relationship (and moved out) and took over the lease of my friend’s apartment together with all of the contents that she wasn’t taking to her new apartment with her girlfriend.  I even got the housekeeper, Olga.  Except Olga didn’t do the work.  She had her “cousin”, Marta, do the work. I saw Marta once (Russian, bad blonde dye job) and wouldn’t recognize her if I fell over her.  I was embarrassed not to be able to recognize her, so, on Fridays, I would get up early and walk down the stairs so I wouldn’t run into her.  (Of course, she wouldn’t know me either.)  If I saw anyone of her vague description within a block of my apartment, I would smile and nod just in case.

I imagined how I would answer a detective’s incredulous questions on Law and Order.  “How could you not know Marta’s last name?” “You have no address for the woman who has a key to your home, and access to your jewelry?” ‘Tell me again how you could not possibly know the full name of the woman who cleans your underwear?” “How did you know it was Marta every week?” “Based only on the fact that she ruined your whites with the same hue of blue, you are telling me that it was always the same woman?” Unfortunately, the answers are yes, “I could” and “I did”.

I did have Olga’s outer-borough phone number.  I used it to say that I was moving and I wouldn’t be needing Marta’s services.  I left two weeks’ pay and Marta left a thank-you note written in a scrawl that suggested that she didn’t know so much English and was just as happy that she didn’t bump into me (even if she recognized me).

At least I know her first name.  That is something.  But not really a lot.  A nameless immigrant in the sea of New York, doing work that most people won’t do.  If you want to see strivers and the role that nameless immigrants — legal or not — play in our society, come to New York City.

Share