A New York Morning

New York City

It's hot. No, I mean really hot.

And the city is stripped to its bare bones. Most of the affluent have left or, for those under 40 who probably can't just tell the boss they're taking the family to the Hamptons, they're at the office in Midtown or downtown and dreaming that that time will come someday soon. Especially when they're in the subways which probably register 95 degrees on the platform today.

This morning I walked down 82nd Street to pick up my grandson for "Grammie Time". On the way, I smelled rancid everything bundled in dark green garbage bags waiting for pickup by the New York Department of Sanitation. What a tough time of year to be in that trade. On the block between Amsterdam and Broadway and 82nd, there is a Catholic Church that has decided to make the homeless and the poor one of their priorities. So, summer or winter, at 8a.m. or so, you can always see a group of men and women in line at the door of the rectory where they are offering coffee and at least some bread. Today, I realized that the heat is as hard for the homeless as the cold--just different perils.

I went into Barnes and Noble at the corner of 82nd and Broadway to check on a book I'd ordered on the road to Mecca. And, upstairs, in the religion section, I saw a woman prone with her head in the lap of her significant other. She was mid30s, and easily 8 months pregnant. My guess is that this was a place where she could find air conditioning that she presumably didn't have at home.

Ethan and I had our usually fine time. He wanted to go to "Reemie's" house, so we did. He played with the PlayDough, cutting out gingerbread men with the cookee cutter we made gingerbread men with last Christmas. Then we went to the playground in Central Park to cool off in the sprinkler.

"Reemie," he said, tugging on my arm. "Reemie, come in the waaataw with me. Come play with me." Usually far from docile, this child could lead me to Tucson by stagecoach and I'd agree. Eventually, w came back to the apartment. " Let's shower, Grammie", he said, his aquamarine eyes wide. He showered. I washed and watched.

Then it was time to go home. Always a sad time for me. All that said, he is indeed spirited and requires constant watching, so part of me is happy to "hand him back" to his parents.

I went to Louie's then with my new Barnes and Noble treasures. ( Buy two books and get a third one free--can't beat that.)
I love Louie's. I especially love it in the winter because it has so many wonderful big windows to let in the very refracted light. But Louie's is more than that. It is a homey place. The owner, Louie, is from Pittsburgh and has been in New York for 20 years. She's always around, her dark hair and eyes canvassing the room to be sure everyone is taken care of. Or I'll see her downstairs in her tiny office next to the powder room working at her desk. The tables have flowers in tiny vases in the winter and often herbs in the summer. But not just any herb: lemon verbena, an anise herb, along with rosemary tucked in a small vase giving off a faint, lovely garden smell. Right in the middle of the asphalt jungle.

Somehow, all of these images tie together. But, at the very least, this is my landscape today--and many days in New York.

It grows on me--even in ghastly weather. There's always some redemptive/restorative moment. You just have to be willing to look for it.

M.C.