Musing in Manhattan

Ryan was in a school play today. His first play as a first grader. So great–right? So wonderful except for the fact that I was not there to see him perform. He was a red apple in the play Johnny Appleseed and had his very own line introducing a song. We practiced each night for two weeks and I said: “I can’t wait to see your play-you are going to be such a great apple”; and when the big day came–I wasn’t there. =( I could not take off from work. I had missed a day this week already due to an unforeseen appointment that my husband had to keep and I needed to take the day off to care for our three year old.  When I woke “the star” (in my mind he was the star) up this morning he was very excited for his show, but he realized that I was dressed for work and his happy face turned sad .  He asked me to please take the day off.  “Please call your boss mommy, just tell him that I am in a show and that you can miss work.  You can skip it.”  My heart broke as he begged me to call in.  How could I possibly take another day off?  How could I break his heart?  I promised myself I would always put my kids first, that I wouldn’t be all about work, yet here I was breaking his heart.  He cried most of the morning and I unfortunately had to lie to him and say that I would go to work and personally ask my boss if I could leave early to see his show.  In reality, leaving early was not a possibility.  Why go in to work for an hour and a half commute only to stay an hour and then take the hour and half commute back.  I dropped him off at school with a fake smile and told him he would be a great apple.  He turned and said:  “Okay, just don’t forget to come to my play….and mom, I love you”.  Broken.  I felt horrible.  I thought about it all the way to work.  As the clock drew closer to show-time I became more and more sad.  Nope, I’d never make it there in time.  At 1:15 –show time:  I just stared at the clock and said a little prayer that he wasn’t too disappointed.  Daddy was there and lil brother too, hopefully they would find a smiling apple.  I could still watch the show on the video camera.  I dealt with patients and thought of him.  Luckily the hour between 1:15 and 2:15 went fast and was full of phone calls and patients so I couldn’t dwell on it too much.  At 2:45 my husband called and my son was happy to report that the play went well.  “It was great mommy, well sort of great”.  “Why only sort of great?” I asked hoping that it had nothing to do with my missing it.  “Well, Isabella forgot her line and she put her head in her hands and started to cry”.  I began to fill-up a bit; first because I know Isabella and I am sure she was crushed by the event, and secondly, because my son was actually okay with me not being there.  He cared more about his friend messing up than he did that I missed it—-I was happy about that.  When I got home I watched the video and complimented him on how great he was.  I also said that I would be at the next one– AND I WILL!! 

 With heat lights blaring down on my forehead and the police officer grilling me, probing for answers, I lower my head in shame.  ANSWER THE QUESTION!  ANSWER THE QUESTION!  With sweat pouring down my brow and the butterflies growing in my stomache I break:  Okay, Alright!  I can’t deny it any longer. I admit it!  I WATCH THE HILLS.  I am not proud of it.  I have tried to fight it. I don’t want to love it, but I do.  I love Lauren Conrad.  I think she is a great person and deserves every ounce of good fortune that comes her way.  I identify with her.  I know how it feels to deal with people who just don’t get that you have their best interest at heart.  I want to see Lauren find true love for herself.  I know the storylines are scripted–I know scenarios are set up but God help me I still love the stupid show. Whoever “isn’t” writing the script is keeping me glued to television. I love to hate Spencer and Heidi. I would love to see someone walk straight up to Spencer and punch him in his smirky face.  I would love to see someone hold him down and take a buzzer and shave that poor excuse for a beard. Yes, I was there Monday night–I was watching THE HILLS.  And I AM ASHAMED!

     Everyday, on the streets of Manhattan, I am approached by people with fliers for just about everything and anything you can imagine.  $5 foot longs at Subway, shaping, waxing, threading, manicuring, hair cutting, mortgage lending, catering, huge blow out sales, promotions which come to you via the hand of a large costumed chicken, heck there are even those who hand out the fliers for psychic readings.  Question:  If she is such a great psychic, then why didn’t she know that I wasn’t going to take the flier?  huh??   Makes you think doesn’t it?  In all seriousness though, so many of us walk by these poor people and don’t give it a second thought.  I confess, I have walked passed quite a few people on my way to work; mainly if I am not in direct proximity to the person ie:  within arm’s length.  However, I am beginning to feel badly about not taking the fliers.  I am such a sucker, I know, but let me explain.

     While on the bus the other day, we were stopped at a light and I watched a young woman-maybe my age, or younger as she tried to give out fliers for something.  So many people passed her by, yet with each new prospect that approached she had the biggest smile as she attempted to hand the passing pedestrians her brochures.  I began to think about her as a mom, like me, maybe having to take on that job of handing out fliers to help put food on the table or maybe be able to buy her son a Halloween costume this year.  I know, I know, that is a dopey thing to think, but given my circumstances and knowing that my son would love a brand new Halloween costume this year, it just tugged at my heart.  The fact is, these people take on these “gigs” for little money.  They probably don’t have a steady line of employment or are in between jobs and NEED to make some money. When I browse through Craigslist for writing “gigs” I often find many temporary positions that recruit people to hand out these types of fliers and the pay is not great. I would assume the person has to stand on a given street corner for “X” amount of hours or maybe until they give out every flier–whatever the case may be, it strikes me as a boring and it is probably very frustrating.  This morning at around 10 while on my way to work on the other side of the street was a man handing out fliers; he was still there when I was walking to the bus at 6:15!  His stack was not much smaller than it had been when I passed him at 10 —I don’t know if he got a refill or if it was the same stack, but even so, no one was taking them.  I grabbed one from him as I passed and he said so happily:  “Thank you so much sweetheart”.  He said it with such appreciation and relief that it actually made me feel good inside.  I continued my walk to the bus and grabbed two from another person handing out threading fliers.  He too thanked me.  I could tell that he was happy to have had someone help him lighten his load.   If I got him even a second closer to being able to go home, then it was worth carrying that flier to the bus stop where I placed it in a trash can.  So here is my plea:  PLEASE TAKE THE HAND-OUTS!  These are honest, hard working people trying to make ends meet just like you and I.  It is embarrassing to greet someone with a smile and to be basically IGNORED and treated as if you don’t even see them.  Actually, it isn’t embarrassing, it is degrading.  We would not like it if someone ignored us when we greeted them with a smile.  We would be angry if we tried to give someone something at work and they looked right passed us.  It is just rude and unkind.  I think we are all better than that–but if we aren’t, we should be.   If you won’t take the flier then at least pass on a smile and  say no thank you.

Well, I think it is official:  I believe I have just been named someone’s commuting partner.  Yes, that is correct ladies and gentlemen, yet again my path crossed with my commuting friend from yesterday.  She spotted me right away this morning and said:  “Oh you saved a seat for me again, that is so nice of you.”  “I am late again,” she continued, “the previous bus would not let me on because I had my coffee and now I get to see you.”  I pray that I am not the highlight of her day.  I am really being sarcastic now, forgive me.  Honestly, it became evident to me that there is a reason that I keep running into this lady.  NO not because she is late again, but because I deserve it.  I have bee writing about her in a tongue and cheek way and my conscience has been bothering me about it.  So now, universe, I am making right by it.  I am saying, officially, here on my blog, that I was wrong to speak ill of her.  Forgive me God.  She is a nice lady who apparently sees a nice quality in me and would like to share my company during her ride into Manhattan.  I get it.  I got it.  I feel terrible and I will be nicer to her forever.  This sounds sarcastic, but it really isn’t.  I honestly think I need to make right by this whole thing, and this is my honest attempt to do so.  Whew, having gotten that off my chest and my conscience I can now let it go.  If I am intended to be the sunshine during someone’s day, Lord, let it be.  If I can smile at someone and just say:  “Hi, How are you today?” and make them feel like the world is a friendly place–so be it.   Let it be.  And to the lady on the bus, I am sorry. 

     A few posts ago I mentioned my crazy commute with a soaking wet woman who was constantly elbowing me, humming indian songs, talking my ear off (practically) and whom laid (spelled wrong?  I never know how to use that word properly) her soaking wet umbrella across my lap.  Well, wouldn’t you know it, today we met again!  I thought I would never see her again, yet here she was getting on the bus again today.  So funny.

     I missed my usual bus today, so I caught a later one.  I was sort of happy that I missed the usual bus because having made some acquaintances on that bus, I never feel like I can just plug in and tune out using my ipod or sit back and write (as was my original plan for commuting when I first started working in Manhattan).  I always feel like I need to be polite and talk with everyone.   Today, though, I settled into the second seat on the right and pulled out my ipod, and plugged in for a nice hour with U2 (U2 is all I have on my Ipod–which perhaps I will explain in another post).  About 4 stops into the run, Just as one of my all time favorite U2 songs “BAD” came on and was blasting in my ear, I spotted her at the upcoming bus-stop.  Oh no, I thought.  AHHHH what are the odds that she was going to sit next to me though–slim?  There are plenty of seats back there.  I had my lunch and my pocketbook resting on the seat beside me, most people keep walking for a seat of their own.  She came on, looked right at me, and said:  “Oh, we get to sit together again!”  HUH???  Who me?  gulp!  I politely gave her a smile and moved my things onto my lap. She sided up next to me.  “How are you Sweetheart?” she said.  AWE, how can I be mad at such a nice lady.   She really wasn’t that bad. Right?  So I said I was fine and that I was late.  She confided in me that she was too.  I continued to listen to my music and she pulled out her’s as well.  She actually asked if I wanted to trade and listen to “indian music”–I said:  “No thank you.”  Sorry–nice or not, I never put anyone else’s ear plugs in my ear.  Not to mention I don’t consider many bands a fair trade for U2.   =)    I hoped she wasn’t insulted, she didn’t seem to be.  She tried to talk to me again, I lowered the volume and answered her question, but I really didn’t want to chat the whole trip so I didn’t really elaborate in my answer.  Was that wrong?  I continued my journey with Bono, singing in my head so as not to disturb anyone else, when in my heart I wanted to belt out “With or Without You”.  Then I noticed something:  It was terrible, horrible, utterly frightening:   MY BATTERY WAS NEARLY OUT!  OH LORD!!!  Please just get me to the city God, Just let it last till I get into the city.  PLEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEEE!   I kept listening as Bono sang to me–yes only to me.   “The Sweetest Thing” was next and then came “Angel of Harlem”…. sweet music to my ears, until the darn thing went dead.  UGH!!!!!  NOTHING! UTTER SILENCE!  Silence except for my neighbor humming her music again.   I sat there like a kid who had just learned that there was no Sant…  well, you know who I mean.  I was sad.  I kept the ear plugs in and pretended to still be listening until I reached my stop.  God Forgive me, I am not a mean person, I just want a little bit of quiet time with myself–is that too much to ask? Well, I had it for a little while today at least.  I hope the evening commute is better.  Although, I won’t have Bono to keep me company so I don’t know how it could be.  =(

     This morning I was logging onto Today.com to create a post of my own but rather than going straight to my own site, I browsed the other writers’ posts.  One stood out to me with it poetic style and I quickly clicked on to read a wonderful young man’s thoughts on love and a memory that was etched in his mind.  He explained that he missed a particular smile, and that feeling of love that has been lost.  He wondered whether his one true love had come or gone or has he yet to meet her.  It is very rare (I think) that you find someone of his age feeling such a loss and feeling such a need for an all encompassing love.  It was/is quite remarkable to read his post.  I have not read anything so touching in quite a while and I found myself compelled to reading more of his work.  I turned to his autobiography–so sad.  This wonderful, absolutely precious soul has overcome so much and is still manages to walk on the positive side of life.  He longs for more of the wonderful things that life has to offer. He can’t forget his past, but he has not been beaten by either.  I can’t even begin to imagine the childhood he had, nor do I think I want to.  The images he set before me were enough to make me pull my boys closer to me and tell them a million times how much I love them.  As I tuck them into bed tonight I will lay beside them with my arms around them so they will always know that they mean the world to me now and always.  They will always know that I will be there to comfort them, nurture them and love them.  I may never be a perfect mom, but I know that I can give my sons what is most important:  my love and a feeling of security.   Thank you Travis, for sharing your world and your history with this mom of two.  God Bless you in all that you do.