Books and other stuff I feel like discussing
By education and experience - Accountant with a specialty in taxation. Formerly a CPA (license has lapsed). Masters degree in law of taxation from University of Denver. Now retired. Part time work during baseball season as receptionist & switchboard operator for the Colorado Rockies. This gig feeds my soul in ways I have trouble articulating. One daughter, and four grandchildren. I share the house with two cats; a big goof of a cat called Grinch (named as a joke for his easy going "whatever" disposition); and Lady, a shelter adoptee with a regal bearing and sweet little soprano voice. I would be very bereft if it ever becomes necessary to keep house without a cat.
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A few days in New York - tidbits
A few days in a place like New York, for that matter, any large city, yields little snippets of experience that can't easily be classified when describing one's time spent there. Of course, I live in a fairly large metropolitan area, but my familiarity with the scene in Denver at various times of day and in various locations robs those experiences of their unique flavor. Or perhaps I'm just so familiar with everything that I don't look for the unique.
But in New York, I finally began scribbling on little scraps of paper in my purse, so as not to forget moments which stood out as worth remembering.
On Tuesday, while I wandered through a busy Starbucks looking for an open seat, I spotted an empty spot on an upholstered bench, with two men deep in conversation on the adjoining bench. So I sat down with my tea and my book, moved a rather bulky briefcase to the side, wondering why the two men didn't reach to get it out of my way. After about 20 minutes, a third man came up to the table - who knows where he had been all this time - full of outrage that I had "sat myself down in his seat" and berating the other two men for not correcting me. Turned out it was his briefcase, not one of the other's. A young woman sitting to my left, working on her computer, immediately offered me a place at the small table where she was sitting, and I gratefully moved over. The new arrival more or less ignored me, and continued to criticize the other two men for their shameful behavior. Once he ran out of steam, he promptly wandered off again, and left the table, "his" newspapers, and his briefcase unattended for another 20 minutes or so. Of course, another customer came and seated himself to relax. The inevitable confrontation happened a little more quickly this time, and the new interloper moved on. The "owner" of the bench never did settle himself on that precious expanse of bench the entire time I sat there - nearly an hour altogether.
The section of Central Park where the balloon inflation was going on was overrun with families and other sightseers like me, all hoping to see something special and take a few photographs. But not everyone was enjoying him or herself. I saw more than one small child too close to the ground to see anything meaningful, complaining and protesting. At least one young girl, a passenger in a stroller, had her feet planted firmly on the sidewalk in front of her, making it virtually impossible for her parent to move forward. And I overheard a conversation between a boy who looked to be about 9-10 years old, announcing to his father that he was ready to call it quits and go home. His father's rather plaintive response: "Can't we just enjoy being outside for a little while?" didn't seem to be finding a sympathetic reponse.
On one of my bus trips uptown, I exited into a large group of teenaged boys waiting to board. All dressed in typical young gear du jour, chatting, laughing, and teasing each other. From inside the bus, as we pulled up to the corner, we could hear their conversation. I left the bus from the rear door and as I walked to the corner, I noticed the bunch of young men dividing to make a path through their mini crowd, and offering an elderly black woman the chance to board first. She responded with a very pleasant smile, and it seemed to me, genuine astonishment. Nice moment.
And cops. Everywhere connected with the parade, on Wednesday afternoon and Thursday, cops. Dozens of them, groups in dozens of bunches of 8-10. Answering questions, directing traffic, patrolling barricades, watching the hordes streaming through. All of them good natured and patient, all of them attentive to their surroundings, and probably many of them with families putting their own holiday gatherings on hold so the rest of us could be guided and protected. My feelings about them have probably been echoed in dozens of hackneyed commentaries, especially in the last few years, but I noticed, I was impressed, and I was grateful.
But in New York, I finally began scribbling on little scraps of paper in my purse, so as not to forget moments which stood out as worth remembering.
On Tuesday, while I wandered through a busy Starbucks looking for an open seat, I spotted an empty spot on an upholstered bench, with two men deep in conversation on the adjoining bench. So I sat down with my tea and my book, moved a rather bulky briefcase to the side, wondering why the two men didn't reach to get it out of my way. After about 20 minutes, a third man came up to the table - who knows where he had been all this time - full of outrage that I had "sat myself down in his seat" and berating the other two men for not correcting me. Turned out it was his briefcase, not one of the other's. A young woman sitting to my left, working on her computer, immediately offered me a place at the small table where she was sitting, and I gratefully moved over. The new arrival more or less ignored me, and continued to criticize the other two men for their shameful behavior. Once he ran out of steam, he promptly wandered off again, and left the table, "his" newspapers, and his briefcase unattended for another 20 minutes or so. Of course, another customer came and seated himself to relax. The inevitable confrontation happened a little more quickly this time, and the new interloper moved on. The "owner" of the bench never did settle himself on that precious expanse of bench the entire time I sat there - nearly an hour altogether.
The section of Central Park where the balloon inflation was going on was overrun with families and other sightseers like me, all hoping to see something special and take a few photographs. But not everyone was enjoying him or herself. I saw more than one small child too close to the ground to see anything meaningful, complaining and protesting. At least one young girl, a passenger in a stroller, had her feet planted firmly on the sidewalk in front of her, making it virtually impossible for her parent to move forward. And I overheard a conversation between a boy who looked to be about 9-10 years old, announcing to his father that he was ready to call it quits and go home. His father's rather plaintive response: "Can't we just enjoy being outside for a little while?" didn't seem to be finding a sympathetic reponse.
On one of my bus trips uptown, I exited into a large group of teenaged boys waiting to board. All dressed in typical young gear du jour, chatting, laughing, and teasing each other. From inside the bus, as we pulled up to the corner, we could hear their conversation. I left the bus from the rear door and as I walked to the corner, I noticed the bunch of young men dividing to make a path through their mini crowd, and offering an elderly black woman the chance to board first. She responded with a very pleasant smile, and it seemed to me, genuine astonishment. Nice moment.
And cops. Everywhere connected with the parade, on Wednesday afternoon and Thursday, cops. Dozens of them, groups in dozens of bunches of 8-10. Answering questions, directing traffic, patrolling barricades, watching the hordes streaming through. All of them good natured and patient, all of them attentive to their surroundings, and probably many of them with families putting their own holiday gatherings on hold so the rest of us could be guided and protected. My feelings about them have probably been echoed in dozens of hackneyed commentaries, especially in the last few years, but I noticed, I was impressed, and I was grateful.
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