how is this even remotely okay?

It's a little after midnight.

I hear a very loud crash. It sounds like someone has picked up an empty large barrel and slammed it onto the street. 

Some crazy night wanderer I think.

But then it happens again. And again. And again.

I throw on my sneakers and a coat and go outside.

There I find a construction site in the middle of 79th and First. 

There is a bulldozer that is lifting slabs of concrete and dropping them onto the street. The sound is deafening. The workmen say they will be there all night.

How can it possibly be that someone at DOT thinks that keeping an entire neighborhood awake makes more sense than to close off traffic to a small section of 79th Street during the day?

I call 3-1-1, hoping I'm not the only one.

It takes a while to get someone. I register my complaint. I am told someone will respond within 14 days — such a comforting response. 

There are very things about New York that I don't like. This is one of them.

a new york slice

I meet my anonymous friend X (her preferred moniker, not mine) to see a screening of The Baltimorons, with a Q&A after with the filmmaker and one of the stars.

Though it takes less than 30 minutes to get to the West Village, it is world's away from my UES neighborhood. Young. Hip. Criss-crossed streets with actual names. Tons of people everywhere. Loads of history and equal amounts of charm.

We get to the theater early and it's about a quarter full. We take our seats, and soon after an older woman enters (she's alone) and takes the seat right next to X. One seat in from the aisle. A million empty seats in other places, and she opts for this one.  That's bad enough. But then she takes out her phone and begins playing a video (not on mute). How can people be so annoyingly stupid? We move to another row.

The movie is fun, the Q&A great. We decide on pizza for a quick bite after. But not just any pizza. L'Industrie Pizza on Christopher Street.

According to Google:

L'Industrie Pizzeria is popular due to its high-quality, unique ingredients and a slow-fermented, thin and crispy crust, which elevates it beyond typical New York-style pizza.

The line (as expected) is long. And we're at least four decades older than anyone we see.

The place is packed inside too, while people await their orders.

Fortunately, X notices that the cute little place next door is filled with people eating from L'Industrie-labeled boxes. We ask if we can bring our pizza over, as L'Industrie has no tables. "Sure," is the response. "You just have to order drinks here." It's a nice symbiotic relationship, and works well for everyone. Even if two diet cokes cost $16.

The line goes fast and within twenty minutes or so I'm back next door where X is holding a table. 

So is it worth it? We both agree; it's a resounding yes.

short, funny true story

My friend Q is over (she does not want to be identified).

But I can say this of her. She is smart and tech-savvy. Extremely capable. She worked for many many years in television as a graphic designer.

I say all this only to make the point that Q is an intelligent, aware, NY-born person.

She's in my bedroom where I'm showing her something. She says something like, "You always have the most-up-to-date tech toys."

Then she looks at my desk and points to something and asks, "What is this?"

I follow her finger.

I think she's joking. She's not.

"Is this something to raise and lower your bed?" she asks.

Here is where she's pointing.

halloween in the city

As a child, I was always a hobo for Halloween. That's what we called it.

It was an easy disguise to construct — just some oversized clothes and a few facial smudge marks. The idea was to mimic someone more like Red Skelton's Freddie the Freeloader than someone homeless — a concept I didn't yet know. And one that seemed not to exist back then (though I'm sure it did).

Mrs. Kane, who lived in the last house on Brewster Road, would dress up each year in some imaginative outfit. She was the only one in the neighborhood who did anything special. The houses were all unadorned, except for maybe a carved (or plain) pumpkin on the top of the outside stairs.

But unlike my small Massachusetts neighborhood, I was surprised to notice how different my one is here. These I saw on a recent walk, just a few blocks from my home; some of these characters even move and light up:

And if I had to guess, I won't be seeing any hobos on Halloween night.

a simple pleasure

This should be an ordinary, uneventful thing, but so far it hasn't been.

When my son first moved back to the New York, my hope was to see him weekly (or at the least, every other week). Doesn't matter where; I'm flexible with both time and place. I envisioned brunches and dinners all over the city. Some home-cooked meals even. A weekly tradition that we both looked forward to (okay, maybe that's more a fantasy than an envisionment).

He moves into his own place in July, and since then, I've seen him not often enough in my opinion, and too much in his (I'm guessing). 

Last night I text my son and suggest brunch. To my surprise, it takes just a couple of quick back and forths and we finalize a plan.

We meet at Sarabeth's Kitchen on Central Park South, across from the park. It's a perfect fall day. Crisp air. Sun out. Great for doing anything.

 

As long as I stay far away from any of the questions I know he views as nagging ones, we have a great time together. 

He is really loving NYC. It's fun to hear him talk about it from the perspective of a young adult. Although he grew up here, his experiences now are more like someone who is seeing the city for the first time.

Maybe today is the start of a new beginning. 

I am now back to envisioning weekly get-togethers and hoping it's not a fantasy.

bad knee news

I walk 30 miles/week. So I should be in great shape from my knees down. 

But I'm not.

My left knee is perpetually swollen and often aches. 

It doesn't inhibit anything I do, but it frequently hurts when I'm doing nothing, especially at night.

So I finally schedule an appointment with a recommended orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Roshan Shah. I see him in June. He takes a bunch of x-rays and then schedules me for an MRI. My second visit, earlier this month, is to review the results.

"The MRI was very surprising compared to the X-Rays," he begins.

"Much better?" I ask hopefully.

"No, much worse."

Ugh.

He then points out how I have no ACL (which I knew), a big blob of something that might be synovium, my medial something separating from something else, and a host of other things I don't fully understand. But I do understand his conclusion:  knee replacement surgery (he suggests knee-resurfacing), sooner rather than later. 

"It's not going to improve on its own. And it's better to get the surgery when you are young and healthy,"  he says. I love that he uses the word young, but what he means, of course, is that today is the youngest I'll ever be.

I really like this doctor who has gotten great reviews. But he does his surgery at Columbia Presbyterian which is very far from me (166th St. on the westside). 

I will get a second opinion, though I am pretty certain it won't be much different.

Doctor number two is Jose Rodriguez at Hospital for Special Surgery. He too, comes highly recommended.  And his office is just a few blocks away.

Getting an appointment is not easy. I sent him my records and am then able to get a first appointment for early January. 

I'm already thinking about the things I'll need, and how I will do this with no one living with me to help.

Many others have survived this, and I'm sure I will too. 

It's just not something I want to do.

two nights of off-broadway

When asked, some people say, "I'm thrilled I finally made it into your blog."

Others say, "Let me see any pictures first," as they only want good ones posted (totally understandable).

Then there is, "Sure, I don't care."  John is an example of this category.

Some say, "You can post about me but I want to see it first."

But then there are those who say, "Don't write about me. I don't want people knowing anything about what I'm doing."

These people are ok with my changing their identities.

All this to say, a good friend of mine (I'll call Q) is visiting NY.

Q hates theater but does go when she is in NY, even though:  

• The seats are always uncomfortable. 
• I don't want any audience participation if there's a chance I could be picked. 
• The plays are generally too long. 
• The topic sounds boring. 
• Getting there is difficult (Traffic in NY is often bad and Q doesn't take public transportation).

I convince her to see a downtown, one-woman show called The Least Problematic Woman In the World with Dylan Mulvaney. Robin decides to join us last minute. 

This colorful show begins with a series of unfunny jokes, but soon transforms into a heartfelt mini memoire of a very talented and beautiful trans women who is sometimes gay. What a complicated life she lives.

Tonight we venture out to see The Pitch. This is in a small synagogue that has been converted into a theater. This drab, uncolorful stage sets the tone for the play.

Act 1 begins with a guy scratching his balls. This is followed by a slew of F-words and a description of a clogged toilet. The next scene shows a financially strapped father who has recently lost his wife to cancer. I am not enjoying this.

I don't need a play to be funny; I actually prefer a good drama. But I find this play uncomfortable and not in a good way.

Grateful for the intermission, we have no idea how Act 2 begins (or for that matter, how it ends).

an unexpectedly wild night

In typical John fashion, he calls around 8:30 to tell me he's in NY. He lives in Minneapolis, has a wife and three kids. I haven't seen him in over 20 years, plus he never phones.

"I'm here at the Four Seasons finishing dinner. Meet me," he begins.

"When?" I ask.

"Now. Like right now."

Within an hour, I've taken a shower, washed my hair, put on makeup, and walked over to The Mark.

And it's like I saw him yesterday. Really. His absolute craziness, humor, and edginess have always appealed to me. He's also brash, arrogant, and irreverent. Qualities to which he'll easily and proudly admit.

We first met in 1981. We were both working in Boston at Gillette; I was seven years older, worked in Marketing, and he in Finance. We ended up in a passionate, highly volatile relationship. I loved/hated him for years, and he played me for the same amount of time. 

When things were good there was nothing better, and when they weren't, they really really weren't. 

My idea for the night is a couple of hours at a quiet bar catching up on life. But that's not what happens. 

I arrive at The Mark around 9:45.

We walk into the hotel's bar soon after hugging hello.  Immediately we see a very pretty twenty-something woman posing for a photo on a nearby sofa. Without saying a word, John jumps into the shot. 

She's with an attractive group of young women, all dressed in evening attire, having just come from a ballet gala at Lincoln Center.  I don't remember if they invite us to join them, or if John just assumes we will. We spend the next 90 minutes or so with them and they are all great (and very welcoming).

On John's suggestion, we call Alexander and he arrives an hour or so later. John and Alexander have spoken over the years, but the last time they saw each other my son was about six. 

The last part of the night we spend outside. The engaging and beautiful Scheele joins us for a while, but mostly it's just John, me and Alexander.

Toward the end of the night, John brings up Aristotle's three different levels of friendship. He concludes that we are in the highest group. The least superficial one. The one based on true appreciation of the other. And the one that is the most long-lasting. He's right.

Totally unplanned and filled with outrageous moments and plenty of laughs, it is a spontaneous, memorable night. Just the kind I'd expect from John.

Age has not diminished his bad boy behavior.

fall in new york

Christmas in New York is magical.

Spring in New York brings some park beauty, though it's usually short-lived.

Summer in New York sucks.

And fall in New York is the best.

There's the gorgeous fall weather — as it should be, not as it's been. Central Park is looking more like summer than early October, but eventually that will change.

There is just so much to do, some things unique to NY, others more universal.

As for me, I:

See friends who've been gone over the summer and are now back.

Go to screenings, many with Q&A's with filmmaker and actors.

Entertain at home; I have access to a proprietary film app that will eventually include all movies (about 200) to be considered for BAFTAs.

Attend new plays, often at reduced prices through TDF and other sites (especially off-Broadway).

Walk the city without experiencing oppressive heat or icy sidewalks.

Dress in cozy fall clothes.

And of course watch Patrick Mahomes and his team try to make it to Super Bowl LX.

lessons in etiquette

After seeing William Hanson interviewed on TV, I decide to read his book, Just Good Manners.

It's a little too British-oriented for me, and covers topics I'll never need to know. Like how to address royalty. The best way to host an afternoon tea. Or the difference between being invited for cocktails or drinks (not much of one). But it's still entertaining and informative.

Two things I do learn:

• Saying "Pardon?" if you don't understand or hear what someone is saying is not good. According to the book, "Pardon? is a contraction of I beg your pardon (which is fine)" ... and it is French-sounding (which the Brits hate)." The correct interrogation, according to Hanson is "What?" Although the author then says we can improve on "What?" by using the preferred choice of "Sorry?" I disagree with this one. To me, "What?" sounds coarse and "Pardon?" sounds refined.

• Regarding weddings: You don't need to buy a wedding gift if it's a destination wedding and costly. The "waiting up to a year" to send out thank-you notes for gifts is no longer true; it should be a lot sooner.  And guests should send a thank-you note(s) to those responsible for hosting the wedding (have never heard of this one and sure hope I'm not the only one who's not doing it).

Of course no book on etiquette can cover everything, so here are a few I would add:

• Never put your phone on speaker in a public place. It happens all the time and it's selfish and disrupting to everyone around.

• Don't use text to have a conversation. Texts should be used to pass on info or to make uncomplicated plans.  

• Don't leave your phone on in a theater and then look at it during the film/performance. The bright light of a phone is annoying to those around you.

• Don't talk on your phone in an elevator. Listening is okay.

• Don't use text to thank someone for a thoughtful gift. And, if the gift took a lot of time, care and creativity to produce, then definitely send a written thank-you (can you tell this one is personal?).

• Don't wait until you get to the cashier at checkout and then decide to start looking for your cash or credit card; have it ready.  And certainly don't engage in a conversation with the cashier about the latest celebrity break-up when there's a line.

• Have a real person contact option and not just email or chat if you are a company (okay, this might not fall under etiquette but it sure belongs somewhere).

• Follow the rules of the road; that means you, too, bikers. And don't ride bikes and electric scooters on sidewalks.

• Answer texts that require a simple yes, no, or maybe response when you see it.

• And never ever call a future in-law the C word, especially before you've even met (as happened recently to a good friend so I just had to throw this one in).

Good manners are about courtesy and respect. It's amazing how many people ignore them.

Let me know of those I missed. I would hate to be unknowingly rude.

the new 70

I watch the first hour of The Today Show every day; have been for years.

There's a segment this morning about aging. Maria Shriver is about to turn 70, so she is interviewing people who range in age from 72-79.

The new 70's they say. Fit. Fearless. And forward-thinking.

The people they highlight include a high fashion model (76 who looks 90). An ex-lawyer turned poet. A social-media influencer. And an entrepreneur (79, with a turkey neck that detracts considerably from his somewhat youthful face).

I think my friends who are in their 70's (or close to it) would have made a more enviable group.

One friend, a few months shy of 80, plays tennis multiple times a week, plus a multitude of other exercises.  She recently completed two very long treks on the Camino Trail. Has recently written a book (first time). Decided to learn French. Got her PhD (not all that long ago). Travels a lot. And has an agent and is now acting. She is beautiful and vibrant and surprises everyone when they learn her age.

Another friend works at high-impact, short-term jobs as a major contributor. She too, is physically fit. Works out a ton. Is always visiting some foreign country.  Goes out about five nights a week (and is my inspiration for saying YES more often). 

And then there is J who bikes everywhere. Is a workout fiend. Started a job (nine years ago) as a full-time consultant to top corporate executives. Is often visiting or living outside NYC. Looks (like the others) many years younger than her biological age.

Oh and B on the west coast. He flies a plane. Kills rattlesnakes. Hunts elk. Runs. And hasn't been inhibited by age in the least.

Or another J who lives in Colorado. She skis. Still runs marathons (I think). Looks about 20 years younger. And totally embraces growing older.

My adventurous friend SW, a recreational pilot, and the best downhill skier I know, lives in New England. He now flies an open cockpit plane, and knowing him, likely does loops and rolls as well. He asks me if I would ever go up in one, and I so want to say, of course, but would I? Maybe for five minutes; certainly not to actually fly somewhere.

My list is long. Too long for a blog post (so hope no one is offended if they are not described).

Yes, there are more aches and pains. And yes, there is more awareness of mortality. And yes, I have at least one friend who agrees with Dr.  Ezekiel Emanuel (Chair of the Department of Medical Ethics and Health Policy at Penn) who famously wrote an article (in 2014) titled, Why I Hope to Die at 75. 

But staying active. Staying positive. Staying involved. And being surrounded by like-minded, like-acting people makes all the difference.

I also think that had my friend group been the one profiled on this morning's Today Show segment, younger people watching would be thinking, "Hmm. If that's what aging looks like in your 70's (or near 70), then maybe it's not so bad."

Still, I look in the mirror and wish I could afford a facelift.  Vanity does not diminish with age. At least not for me.