Sunday, March 26, 2017

A Trip to New York City


It's been a week since I left the mountain
and went to New York City
with my friend Jill
on a Fullington "Do Your Own Thing" tour.

Jill and I had asked for NYC advice from friends.
We decided on the Intrepid aircraft carrier
and the 911 Museum.
(It was raining and 33 degrees,
so Central Park
and the High Line
were Right Out.)

On the Intrepid,
the gigantic seldom-used anchor chain in the fo'c'sle
was impressive,
as is the word "fo'c'sle"--
TWO apostrophes!
Some planes had folding wings
like Uncle Ric's Clairton basement toys.
We saw the space shuttle (!!!!) Enterprise
and ate hot dogs in the Intrepid cafeteria.
"For $4.50,
they had better be darned good hot dogs!"
They were.
We saw the intersecting triangles of the new World Trade Center,
the sober footprint pools of the former World Trade Center,
and photographs of thousands of faces of people
who died that morning in September.

The space shuttle Enterprise! Wow!

Our first destination

Jill on the deck of the Intrepid

The new tower disappeared into the sky

Pools rimmed with names now stand where the twin towers once stood


Jill and I have many memories of the things we saw that day,
but is the people that we encountered
that perhaps have made the most lasting memories:

The skid steer driver
clearing the streets of trash and snow
after the Saint Patrick's Day parade
who waved at us as I picked up my first souvenirs,
three new green plastic hats.

The skid steer driver had more work to do


A man told us in an Australian accent
about seeing Sully and his airplane
float down the Hudson River
 right there.

The young guide on the submarine Growler
told us that the cigarette smoke
was so thick
that men had to reach above their heads
to find enough oxygen
to light up again,
and that cinnamon rolls were served at midnight.

One Intrepid veteran
told of a shipmate who had fallen overboard
while taking on supplies
and was found the next year.
ALIVE.
Hmmmmm.
I asked,
"Did he,
perchance,
fall in shortly before midnight
on December 31?"
He grinned.

I asked another veteran,
an ex-marine pilot from the carrier Lexington,
what it was like to land for the first time on a carrier,
and how to know if you need to abort
when something goes wrong.
He replied,
"Did you ever get up in the middle of the night
and stumble to the bathroom
and sit down when the lid is still down?
You know immediately that something is wrong.
Flying is like that..."

The girl at the souvenir shop
told us exactly how to catch a bus,
then gave us all the quarters we'd need.

The crosstown bus driver at the Circle Line stop
explained bus transfers,
then reminded us when to get off.

We remember the old women in wheelchairs
who that same busdriver
loaded oh-so-patiently
and gently strapped in
for a trip of a few blocks.

A woman with long dreads
waited with us at the downtown bus stop.
We wondered together
why those guys on bikes
kept disappearing and returning.

We remember the driver of the downtown bus
who explained a bit about the treeless neighborhoods--
I wonder where the closest squirrel is?
and the passenger who was so enthusiastic
telling us about the neighborhood schools
that she missed her stop.

A woman from Chicago
had just taken her first subway ride
and imparted her new-found wisdom.

The helpful worker at the subway entrance
advised us to get one ticket
for the two of us
and thus save a dollar.

A woman at the subway turnstile
showed me the Goldilocksian way to scan the pass.
"Too fast!"
"Too slow..."
"Ju-u-u-ust right!"
She smiled a goodbye
as I pushed through the gate.

The subway was much faster
but didn't have quite the same camaraderie as the buses.
A earbudded man sat across from us,
his stocking cap  pulled over his eyes.
Was he antisocial?
Probably.
Thought curious about his story,
I respected his silence.
I also restrained my inner cheeky child
from beeping his exposed nose,
much to Jill's relief.

We still had an hour
before the bus to Clearfield would return
so we walked the few blocks to Times Square.
The music blared from Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum
and I danced with a few happy strangers
in the middle of the sidewalk
before moving on.

I took a picture of Jill taking a picture of the Times Square ball


Dances With Strangers--
perhaps a good phrase for a movie title
or an epitaph.
Will Rogers,
who once visited this mountain of mine,
said, "Strangers are just friends we haven't met yet."


Joy in your journey
as you turn strangers into friends,
Sue











Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The House That Den Left


Last night
we celebrated Den's return from the Dominican Republic
with stories of time well-spent with friends
and Daeny's raisin cake.
Den had walked the cake through customs specially
so I could enjoy Daeny's gift.
Delicious!
He then caught me up
on the lives of friends not seen since the late nineties,
when we helped with education seminars.
He told of songs sung enthusiastically
and a presentation
where the Prodigal Son's family was played by monkey puppets
and the tour of Lilo's state-of-the-art school
and gave me the perfect gift:
a colorful necklace made of a water beetle's body.

Daeny's raisin cake

Bible school

Den coaches monkey puppeteers


Then it was my turn.
My story was more like The House That Jack Built:
See this skirt I'm wearing?
This is the skirt that was still in my closet
after I sleepily packed up many bags of clothing to donate
and accidentally gave away some of my favorites
because I may as well clean out my closet
since I had to take everything out of the closet at midnight on Monday
to let the plumber
(who made it up the driveway
because the snowstorm of the decade failed to materialize)
...to let the plumber see to fix the leak
in the closet's frozen pipe
that soaked the carpet padding
that wetted my socks
and thankfully let me know
that there WAS a leak
before it ruined the kitchen ceiling below.
And it only took two hours and a small section of pipe to fix.
The bill is on the table.
I haven't looked at it yet.

Newly cleaned closet

A new pipe elbow at The Scene Of The Crime

The pen that signs checks to the plumber


This morning there was leftover cake. Yay!
As I walked to the jeep
wearing the new water beetle necklace
and other clothing I had NOT accidentally given away,
Den, with happy cat at his ankles,
gave me the traditional daily send-off:
"Thanks for letting me be retired!"
to which I gave my traditional response:
"Thanks for taking care of the house and the bills!"
Except I rrrrrrrreally meant it,
like 287% more than usual.

Water beetle necklace. Cool.


We both have had adventures this week
and are grateful to have our missing parts back.
This week,
may all your adventures be good ones,
but if they're not so good,
may they at least make an interesting story.


PS. Three dollars at Goodwill
should pay for what I accidentally gave away.