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.