I was mistaken to call the day’s mild weather “Indian summer.” I learned that title is reserved for only a few weeks in November of unseasonably warm weather when Native Americans might decide to attack settlers.
We’re still in October and there are no war making Natives that I’m aware of. Although there is certainly lingering unease among the general populace, still reeling from pandemic encounters and recovering from post Trump dystopia. Still I can safely say today was unseasonably warm, in the mid 70’s. It felt like May with the promise of summer ahead, rather than late October with winter lurking just around the corner! It generated a certain light heartedness. No complaints here. For me, it met the definition of a beautiful day.
Rekindling or dousing?
I met up with two long time friends from my childhood who live in the area. We indulged in only a little reminiscing and included in our chit chat little bragging about grandkids. One friend wanted to impress on the others how happy she is in life currently by telling us she expresses gratitude for her life each day. Wanting to be nice, I nodded my head and muttered “how enlightened of you.” The key word here is muttered, I replied more for my own sanity than to fire a warning shot. I really thought, “You’re a pain in the ass,” determined as she was to show her old friends the right road ahead. The other friend shared that she found our time of life in our nascent 80’s a bit off. I was able to quickly agree and identify with her. Who wants POllyAnna when courting depression?
My body had been giving me a hard time in recent months. Life has taught me that the road ahead will probably grow tougher. Lonlier and rougher too. (Thank you, Judy Garland) Toughen up, Dianne
New York has lost some of its glitter for me. It’s another big city that is far too difficult to get around in. If I walk any distance, my hip begins to hurt. Some of the fun of serendipity has been taken away. The pandemic has taken a toll on taxis, so if that’s your preferred mode of transport, be prepared to wait for a long while for one. An hour. Or more. Lyft wanted to tack on $60 to get me to 18th street. I wasn’t biting. Give me my car in my driveway, please. Otherwise, find me grumpy on the street. or call me Grumpy -on -the -Street!
ABC Going Down,
When I got to ABC carpet, the store where I could most easily recover my childhood sense of wonder, I found only area rugs stacked on their floor. All the intoxicating displays I’d been anticipating had been cleared out. The doorman immediately saw the stunned look on my face. “Downsizing,” he informed me. NO! Since the closing of Takashimaya a few years ago, this is another big loss for me. ABC has always been like an adult fairyland, particularly around the holidays. Nobody did it better. I’m disoriented. And unhappy. An adult whose giant toy has been taken away. I think my days of cruising this store are over. There’s not much to look at now.
I like our comfortable apartment in Tribeca a lot, but do not like the hassle of leaving or getting to the area at certain times of the day. The thought of moving to another more convenient location is more than I want to take on, so it’s acceptance of the status quo. Smile please.
This is a time for transitions in my life. I’m doing my best to meet them with some equanimity. Aplomb too. As far as old friends go, I want to hold on to the ties, but recently have found a few ties pretty frazzled. What worked at 18 in friendships is a push at 80. Older age is supposed to be a time of increasing loss. I guess the lessons have begun.
And so it goes. Or is on its way.