As I was walking down the street today, letting the early afternoon sunshine warm myself, I started thinking about stuff. Well, usually I am thinking about stuff; in fact, I can't get my head to shut up, which, when trying to sleep, is quite the pain. But I digress. I snapped out of my reverie in time to see an utterly and completely adorable old old Chinese man shuffling along in front of me. He was impossibly stooped, had a tuft of white hair crowning his head, and swung his arms in unison, propelling himself along. If I had timed him, I bet it would have taken him upwards of ten minutes to traverse the block, a distance that I could probably travel with many minutes to spare. But as I looked at him, and left my heart there at his feet, I thought about all of the other adorable old men and women I had seen on the streets this summer. Some were accompanied by aides, some were solitary. And as I look at these marvelous people, I try to imagine what they used to look like. Did that guy over there with the sloped shoulders used to stand tall and strong in his army uniform? Did that lady in front of me, no more than 4 feet tall, used to dress in her best and go out dancing on Saturday night? I think about the vast wealth of life experience and knowledge all of these pillars of society possess, locked away in their minds, and I hope against hope that someone, somewhere is writing it all down.
I pass a table selling, what I would charitably call, junk. "Buy this shit for a buck!" the signs should more accurately say; instead, what I read is: "Sea Creatures that expand in water-$1" or "Stickers! $0.50". I want to ask the guy sitting behind the table, "Um, excuse me, but does anyone really buy this crap?" and then I see it. The little capsules of stuff that looks like nothing, and when put into water expands into seahorses and dolphins and dragons, the stuff of imagination! And I remember how much I used to love playing with these things...my Mom would get them for me, and I can remember many a pleasant morning, watching them grow in water. It never got old. Well...maybe this table isn't all completely junk, after all:)
I keep walking, and a thought makes me laugh. Being a health professional now, I have lost all embarrassment about discussing bodily functions, so I say what I say next as candidly as possible. Coming from a family where gaseous emissions from the nether-regions of the body is practically an art form, I have noticed how New York absolutely lends itself to the ability to surreptitiously and anonymously release pent-up flatulence. One can be walking down the street, trying in vain to quench the desire to let it go, to cut the cheese, as it were, and realize, in a moment of clarity, "Wait! I can relieve myself! Right here! Right now! With the noise of the traffic and the ever-present potpourri of smells in the city, my little contribution will pass unnoticed! And, I'm walking so fast, no one can associate it with me anyway!" Not that I've ever thought this, of course. I'm just saying, one could:). Growing up with the male members of my family letting one go at shopping malls, grocery stores, and any number of inappropriate places, while walking briskly away from the point of impact with a smile on his face, leaving anyone unfortunate enough to be within a ten-mile radius the unpleasant surprise of a Weinkauf family gift. Yes, folks, we give only the best! This city disperses with those nagging thoughts of "What if that cute guy behind me smells it??" or "Gee, I hope no one hears me!" as one can walk merrily along, tooting like the trumpet in a brass band, and no one is the wiser.
Sitting at my computer, I notice how the sun hits the opposite wall differently than it did even a month ago, and I think about the inevitable transition of summer into fall, winter into spring. A cycle of life and death, a cycle of dormancy and sudden, startling birth, a cycle of joy in nature. This past week, the sky has been so blue as to almost sing with its blueness. I step outside, I take a deep breath, and I marvel at the beauty of the azure ceiling that covers us all, regardless of creed, nationality, or political ambition. I think about how the things that unify us are so much greater than all the little things that divide us, and how blessed we are to live in a country where these differences are able to be freely expressed. I might not agree with most of them, but I am so glad that people can say them without hesitation, because that means that I can voice my unpopular opinions as well.
I watch school children romping off to school, and I am suddenly taken back to my own grade-school days. I used to look with great anticipation to the beginning of a new school year. Nerd that I am, nothing thrilled me more than going school-supply shopping. The feel of a brand-new Crayola crayon, the bright colors of yet-to-be-used markers, the soft and slightly tangy sent of a freshly sharpened pencil, all made me want to dance with joy! Honestly, I just loved it. I loved a stack of looseleaf paper, eagerly anticipating all of the homework assignments and writing that those sheets would soon be filled with. I love learning new things, I love the challenge that comes with meeting an obstacle and trying to reason a way through it. Now, as I await the second semester of my graduate school experience next week, I can relive that glee that I felt when I was young. Maybe I'll go out and get a new pack of markers, just for old times' sake.
New York provides endless fodder for the imagination, and I am looking forward to a fall filled with new stories, new experiences, kicking through the leaves in Central Park, going for long walks along the Hudson, watching the changing trees, eating pumpkin pie, catching snowflakes on my tongue. Too many of us lose the wonder we felt as a child when experiencing these things. Now that I am fully adult and have to live in the 'real world', I have decided that this fall will be my fall of childlike-awe. I am going to not take the little joys for granted, but revel in each and ever sensory, intellectual, and personal experience. I can't wait!
