I shared my previous post with my friend in New York and she said, "What do you expect? Getting anything done through government is like trying to move an iceberg."
Wow, she is right, but I will still complain until I die, knowing all the while that not much will be done in my life time, because I know our grandchildren will expect us to stick up for them.
OK, the trip to New York cost more than it should but the two hour seminar about web design was worth it. This is the stuff I wish I had a chance to learn years ago but Al Gore hadn't invented the internet yet.
Better late than never, I suppose, but multi-media ought to be taught to kids in grade school, along with nutrition and life skills that matter. Hey kids, shut up in the movie theater, and stop swearing in public. Of course, when disgruntled congress creeps yell out insults during state of the union speeches the battle may already be lost for civil discourse and polite debate.
OK, the funniest moment of the night was waiting in line for the restroom at the Starbucks on Union Square. It is right next to Mcdonald's that locks up their restroom so you have to ask for a key. The Starbucks may charge more for coffee but they don't require a purchase to pee. We were waiting in line behind three other people when a bearded guy about my age finally exits with a book in his hand . A really thick paperback. So I start sharing what I think he is saying to himself as he walks by us. "Hey what you expect me to do, sit in there with nothin' to read? I'm a student of classic literature and I gotta' get my readin' done. Sure it 's a little funky in there but I got through four chapters and wrote lots of margin commentary, I ain't no dummy, I know all about ya' symbolism and your mythological references. I'm an authentic New York intellectual, with a need to read."
Taking the subway uptown to Grand Central, I was waiting on the platform for the #6 local next to a saxophone player who did a nice double play of "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Someone to Watch Over Me." He was cool, I dropped in a buck and gave him a little applause and a "That was lovely, Sweet Georgia" comment which made him smile. A sweet smile and a soft thank you that was as nice as I have ever received. This guy was dressed straight out of cartoon land. Strictly Simpsons in design. He was wearing an outfit that would have won an oscar in the right movie. He was all long arms and slightly bowed thin legs. His pants were tight and his cracked red leather belt held them up just below a slight paunch. He was wearing a pumpkin colored version of a Pork Pie Hat with a rolled brim over a trapped fro springing out below. His face was covered with a full fuzzy fly away beard. His pants cuffs were split and tattered and his shoes were worn and his loose brown cloth jacket was hanging on bent shoulders like a wet towel on a radiator. He was beautiful. I kept wishing I had a camera but that made me more aware of all the details I was drinking in. Picasso could paint him, Van Gogh too. But a photograph would only tell part of the story. A black and white picture, like that one of Miles might have worked. Seeing people like this is why I love NY. Listening to the French tourists argue and the Russian kids laughing on the subway made my night. We are all stuck here and this is real life, ain't it amazing?
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