So this little seven or eight-year old boy is somehow left on the subway platform while the rest of his party is whisked away by the uptown F train. I would guess by his look and his dress that he’s visiting from out of state or maybe the suburbs. I have seen this once before, over 20 years ago, but in reverse- I was inside the car with the child while his desperate mother and sister were left outside banging on the window as the train pulled away. It’s all quite gut-wrenching to watch and everyone always freezes for a second in disbelief.
And then the moms come.
I don’t know if they all have children of their own but it seems like every female in a ten-foot radius takes cues from a strong maternal instinct to step towards the little-lost soul. Whoever gets there first gets down on the child’s level and OPENS THEMSELVES UP. Everyone, including the child, is focused on this one person who is going to make it okay. We are all going to be just fine. This will all sort out and this kind woman who stepped forward will somehow make sure of it.
But wait. Who is this person? The women who are a fraction too slow, or a few feet further away, or not as nimble to crouch so low lean in a bit to listen and assess. There is healthy skepticism. Because the woman consoling the child is a stranger. She has not been elected and there has been no conference about what to do ahead of time. So they all wait to make sure that even though she means well, she is capable.
Convinced, some eventually back off to give the child some room to breathe. In the end, there will be just a few surrogates who remain. And another two who agree to go together to alert the authorities. I imagine they go as a pair so that each can hold the other accountable for following through. Our hero, the one who is in charge of keeping the child calm, will eventually glance around to make eye contact with the team and then there is nothing to do but wait.
And watch.
Because from whom are we all working together to protect the child if not each other? A healthy set of checks and balances, I think. It really does take a village.
#livelovedancereadrun
live
– more than just existing. being present. paying attention. participating. giving. taking. being seen. being heard. seeing and hearing others. feeling everything.
love
– anyone or anything. a friend visiting, seeing theatre, the dog. sharing a bottle of red wine. going to the movies alone. the whole foods employee who fits ALL the groceries in one bag. the way the
dance
– in a class, on a stage, around the lower loop in the park. while drunk at a wedding, upon hearing good news, to avoid bumping into a stranger. to cross the living room. when picking something up off the floor, when navigating through a busy ladies’ room.
read
– everything. books, newspapers, billboards, unsolicited flyers placed in hand. nutrition labels, cleaning labels, moods, the situation. subway poetry. email, holiday letters, Playbills, postcards. blogs.
run
– for the train, for the bus, for the finish line. up a hill, over a fence,
#livelovedancereadrun
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Onward and…
Last night we went to see Jazz at Dizzy’s Club and I cried through three straight songs.
I cried because it was Fleur
Because I know Fleur from seeing her perform at Tavern on the Green one beautiful summer evening with some great company. Outdoor seating, perfect weather, beautiful music. An iconic restaurant in my favorite park.
Because when I first moved to NYC I would exercise in the park at night and hear the parties at Tavern through the bushes. At the time they had some of the gigantic animal topiaries made for Edward Scissorhands displayed in the garden. The trees were adorned with fairy lights. Everything seemed magical. I wondered who the people inside celebrating were and how they came to be there.
Because on the east side of Tavern on the Green, on the bridle path, were three tall wooden pillars. They were likely there to prevent cars from entering the path but they looked more like something you could tie your horse to. That summer (before Tavern officially closed) I approached one of the pillars – it measured somewhere between my waist and my chest. I had an incredible urge to pull myself up and stand on it. I should say – balance on it. It was very narrow.
Because I decided that by the end of the summer I would be able to do this. I would train every day and make it happen. I didn’t know that Parkour was “a thing” then, but I was doing this sort of thing on my own. I would practice until I had the arm strength, the core strength, the leg strength, and the balance to do it. It had been years since I had consistently exercised.
Because I did it by the end of the evening.
And then I was watching the party from four feet higher, on one leg, covered in sweat and dirt, wishing I had a glass of that champagne.
Ten years later, my new hip is finally ready for me to climb impossible things again. Fleur Suele has graduated to Dizzy’s. Tavern on the Green has since reopened. I have been on the other side of those bushes, bubbly in hand.
Last night we went to see Jazz at Dizzy’s Club and I cried through three straight songs.
Suggestions for Titles Welcome
I know I said I would be writing from the train but this one’s coming from my workspace. No clients today.
So after a whole career of doing paperwork and such at home, I now pay a whole bunch of money for an empty desk and an empty file cabinet in what is usually an empty room. I am paying for EMPTY SPACE. And it’s brilliant. No distractions from work. (Except now I am writing this blog so I guess nothing is foolproof.)
Most of the people here are running start-ups. They grow bigger and upgrade to bigger and bigger spaces until they finally move out and rent whole floors somewhere else. It’s inspiring! My goal is to just keep up with the work that I am already supposed to be doing. I expect to be here forever and hope that no one finds me.
The community here is very friendly. We get newsletters every week, at least, boasting of member accomplishments. So and so launched their new website! This guy’s product will be available to sample tonight at happy hour! Congrats to this girl for publishing her first book! Recently it was this:
Big congrats to Alan Alda! Alan is the 55th recipient of SAG-AFTRA’s highest honor. He’ll get the award in January at the 25th annual Screen Actors Guild Awards, which airs live on TNT and TBS
Huh. Even super famous and successful people use co-working space, I guess. Because the rents in NYC are “too damn high,” even for him? Or because he is trying to avoid the dishes and the laundry and the dog that needs to go out like I am? We all have our reasons.
Mr. Alda isn’t at my location, but one close by. I add him to my mental list of celebrities that I know live in
A few days later I see him. Of course, I do.
I am leaving the same building he is about to enter. The doorman is in between. Not sure who will get there first. He’s been on my mind since the co-working space newsletter made it seem as if he was just like one of us hopeful young entrepreneurs. I have been reflecting on the surprising influence he has had on my life. I grew up, literally (NOT figuratively), listening to Free to Be You and Me, the children’s album he put out with Marlo Thomas, Mel Brooks
Free to Be You and Me teaches that it’s okay to cry (like Dudley), that girls may or may not grow up to be pretty and boys may or may not grow up to be strong, that we shouldn’t judge people by their appearances, and that it’s okay if boys want to play with dolls- it will only make them better fathers (like William). Michael Jackson and Diana Ross sing on the album. Carol Channing is in some of the skits. It is perfection. I knew Alan Alda’s voice years before I ever saw his face.
After a small gap, Mr. Alda came back into my life via MASH reruns. Every single night around dinner time. For years. I was supposed to do PT exercises for my back every day when I watched MASH (we call that “habit stacking” now). To this day, when I do a bridge in yoga class, I think of this man. I hear him on NPR, as an academic, talking about science and communication and his new projects in these fields. He is ever-present in my life.
Now I know that he rents space to write. And where he lives. And we are about to walk through the same doorway at the same time and it isn’t big enough for
Should I tell him that I still have my original Free to Be album? (It has survived every move)! Should I tell him that several years ago Marlo Thomas signed it at her book signing? Would he chuckle when I told him that instead of saying “Dear Eileen,” it says “Dear Roman” because of a small communication mix-up that night between my best friend from kindergarten and Caroline (of Caroline’s) where the signing took place? And how hard I laugh every time I look at it?
Since most famous people in NY appreciate being left alone I decide (as I expected I would) to just smile and say “excuse me.”
He smiles back and steps aside.
He is all for equal rights and he is also a gentleman.
from stlyrics.com, as sung by Diana Ross
When we grow up, will I be a lady? Will you be an engineer?
Will I have to wear things like perfume and gloves?
I can still pull the whistle while you steer.
Well, I don’t care if I’m pretty at all. And I don’t care if you never get tall.
I like what I look like, and you’re nice small.
We don’t have to change at all.
When I grow up, I’m gonna be happy and do what I like to do,
Like making noise and making faces and making friends like you.
And when we grow up, do you think we’ll see
That I’m still like you and you’re still like me?
I might be pretty; you might grow tall.
But we don’t have to change at all.
This post is dedicated to my best friend from kindergarten who grew up to be both pretty and tall. 🙂
Welcome?
Welcome! But quiet, please. An audience makes me nervous. I am trying to write so if you are an ambulance siren or a messy desk or a dog that needs to go out you are not helping either.
Actually, skip it.
You stay. I’ll just write everything on my phone when I’m on the train anyway. That way the notable stuff that happens to me, near me, or in spite of me will be recorded before my brain puts it in the shredder pile. The time crunch will help too. *I need a fully formed thought by 14th Street or the world will never hear about this busker who takes Venmo.* That kind of thing helps productivity.
BTW- notable stuff happens to, near, or in spite of all of us. I think I am just inclined to pay attention. But since you
There. You ARE welcome.