Walking north on 7th Avenue early Sunday morning with a friend, a package slipped under a mailbox catches my eye. I walk past then reverse and stand there, conversing in speculation about what it could be. We can see a what appears to be a couple of folded pillowcases and the rest is all white in a zippered bag in which one typically finds a bed comforter. Unable to stand the unanswered question, I force the package out from its hiding place toward the curb with my foot. I walk around and pick up the clear plastic zippered bag by the handle. Indeed, it is white on white linens. We can see the curve of a fitted sheet but the rest defies definition. All of it defies explanation. With questions unanswered, we slip it back into its hiding place. Next time I passed the mailbox it was gone.
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The minute screw fell out of the left arm of my eye glasses; instant lorgnette. I saved the screw and with it taped to the lens popped into an eyeglasses shop and asked them to please fix it, for a fee. They gladly fixed it but, refused payment. I said I’d pay it forward. Walking down the street only seconds later I happen upon a couple with a city map and the known-look-of-lost, on their faces. When directed, they were both exceedingly grateful and the man – perhaps 40’s or was- was effusive in his thanks. Walking further along the same street, another couple, same look, but older most likely 60’s. Giving them directions, she was grateful as well. He, however was more attitude: I don’t need to ask directions; I may be standing here lost, but I’ll get there before nightfall. I could easily read she had been there with him before.
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The New York City marathon was run on the first Sunday in November. I believe you don’t have to run the first 10K, the crowd is so thick you can just press between two runners and be carried along. A friend and I were at the spot where the race ended. Everyone who finished was wrapped in an aluminum space blanket and the number of damaged bodies was painful to see. We were walking beside a young 20ish couple and he was extolling the virtues of having run the race race once in a life time. [clearly he hadn’t yet taken the plunge as he was in casual wear, and she in high-heeled boots]. I heard her agree. To her agreement, he said, I think we should do it next year. Without missing a beat, she stumbled, sprawled on her knees and hands. Perhaps she was not so willing to have an actual date to his hypothetical statement.