Who Says New Yorkers Aren't Friendly?

I felt happy tonight after teaching my first class this semester--tired but also excited, invigorated. When I'm not teaching, during the breaks, I forget how much pleasure it brings me.

After class I had to drop a book off at the library and then I went back to the office I share with a few other adjuncts and looked at some stuff on the computer. Nobody else was there (amazing, when you consider that probably 50 people use that office in the course of the day--it's a big room with four or five desks--but then again it was getting on towards 9 p.m.). Finally, I roused myself from the inertia that was starting to overcome me and made my way to the subway. I was dreading the subway ride--it's a long ride and I was getting really tired. I was tempted to take the express bus but it only leaves every half hour and it takes even longer than the subway and I didn't want to get home that late.

Once I got on the subway, though, I seemed to be surrounded by a happy social buzz. Maybe it was just that I was feeling happy. Or it could have been a sort of bracing-for-the-next storm mentality, you know, let's all get home safe before the snow starts at midnight, we're all in this together.

At any rate, I had several exchanges with people, all within the second part of my trip, after I had to switch trains about halfway through. First, while waiting for that second train, I fell into conversation with a woman who was waiting for the same train, but didn't seem to know the stops very well. She told me where she was going, and I said she had about five stops to go--three more in Manhattan and two in Brooklyn. We sat across from each other on the train, so didn't continue our conversation, but as the train pulled into the last stop in Manhattan (East Broadway), she suddenly started. I said loudly, across the space of the car, "You have two more stops." She settled back down, shaking her head and laughing a little bit. "I saw the a and the y," she said. (The station she was actually trying to go to was Jay St.)

As the train got deeper into Brooklyn, it emptied out a little bit. There were only one or two people the whole length of the bench across from me. One of them was a guy maybe in his thirties, Hispanic, listening to music on his headphones and kind of swooning into it the way people do. He seemed to have just come from the gym because he was wearing kind of workoutish clothing and also was carrying one of those belts that guys wear when they're lifting weights. He was very tall. I noticed that he kept looking over toward one of the doors, on his side, and grinning a little bit. So I followed his glance.

The woman had her back to me, looking out the door window for her stop, but looked grandmotherish. She was petite, and was wearing white sneakers that had lights in them. She, like the guy, was listening to music on her headphones. But she wasn't just listening--she was dancing. I watched her feet and I saw she was doing salsa. I could see the basic step my friends have been trying to teach me, and then, every so often, a little flourish, a quicker step, a one-two-three and then back to the beat. I could almost hear the music.

She saw that the guy was looking at her and smiling, and she said, "You're feeling it, right?" She reached over, way over, from where she was standing, and grabbed his hand. "You're the one who made me do it. I saw the way you were getting into your music." He seemed surprised but then nodded and laughed.

Then it was time for her to get off the train. She reached over, grabbed his hand again. He said, "Be safe out there," and she said, "Okay, you too, papi."

After that I was deep into my thoughts, actually pondering which of two possible stations I should get off at, and I sensed, sort of out the corner of my eye, that a woman sitting next to me was trying to get my attention. "Would you like this?" she asked quietly. It was her People magazine--she was getting off the train, and she was done with it.

"Yes," I said, "Thank you." I scanned the cover--Drew Barrymore was getting married, and was looking for a dress. I was very pleased at the prospect of reading all about it. But since I only had a couple of more stops, I put it in my bag to save it for the next long subway ride.

As I got up, I glanced over at the guy with the weight belt. We hadn't exactly made eye contact earlier, but I felt that we had shared the drama of the silent salsa-dancing woman. I wanted to say goodnight to him, too, and be told that I should be safe out there. So I looked over at him, tentatively, and he smiled at me, full force. I smiled back at him, so delighted I almost felt embarrassed. Then I got off the train and made my way home.

Also . . .

With the bad weather we have been having, there is not much opportunity for my 88-year-old father to get outside. The next-to-last time he went out, he fell, not because the ground was icy (we were between snowstorms), but because he was trying to negotiate a sloping entranceway into a store and open the door at the same time. In any case, he is prone to falling, even using his walker, and probably should not be going out by himself at all. He has health-care aides that come in the mornings but he likes to go out in the afternoon.

After that last fall, he spent a couple of weeks recuperating and did not go out. Although he had not hurt himself seriously, he had strained a muscle in his lower back and was in pain. Also, the weather was bad. About a week ago, we had a couple of mild days and my sister went out with him in the afternoon. But since then, he has been inside.

Tonight I spoke to him on the phone and he told me he felt like he was in prison. It is hard to hear that. And it is hard not being able to do anything, really, to change his situation.

I'll Take It

The other day I got an e-mail message from a student who wants to be admitted to my class this semester (which starts, for me, on Monday) even though the class is full. She needs the class to graduate, she says, but also she has heard "excellent things" about me and about my class.

Hmm . . . .

Even though this may be pure invention on the student's part, the off chance that it is actually true has made me feel more cheerful about the semester's starting up again. 

Grateful

It's a wintry day in Big City, and I find myself thankful for, among other things:

--a roof over my head, indeed a space that is more than ample and comfortable for my needs, and that is warm on this cold day

--the three-day weekend and time to myself, time to rest after what has been an eventful couple of weeks that included a trip to the West Coast for a conference

--my sister, who loves me and is my companion and confidante

--Medicaid, which provides my father with the home care he needs so that my sister and I don't have to worry for a certain number of hours each day

--time, again, for that second cup of coffee today, and not having to go anywhere in particular. And oatmeal for breakfast, which comes from a box that was given to my father by Meals on Wheels. He doesn't care for oatmeal and gave it to me. So I like that too, that my father had something extra that he could give me.

--Upstate Friend, who came to visit with her most excellent son who loves jazz. We had a blast, did all kinds of big city things, including going out to hear music. You can read all about it on Upstate Friend's blog--scroll down through recent entries.

--Gloria Steinem, whom I had the great privilege of hearing speak recently. Her words reminded me of  what (because we are living in an age of backlash and because I am wistful about what I feel I have missed out on) I sometimes lose sight of: that there are worthy and honorable choices for women besides domesticity. And, here is what she had to say about raising children outside of the confines of traditional gender roles (I quote more or less as I remember):

"Children learn from what we do, not what we say. Every time a man spends time with his children and is nurturing and attentive toward them, a little boy is watching. And every time a woman walks by a mirror and complains about how she looks, a little girl is watching."

Powerful words, yes?

Okay, now I have to go do the laundry. More another time.

Oh, and just to add something visual, below is a picture taken the day after the December 26th blizzard here in Big City, on my street.