Category: Things That Seem Important

I logged on to my computer and read a caption about Uma Thurman’s dress. I happen to like her acting, she seems to be a woman of substance, and doesn’t look as if she’d hurt anyone. Sensationalizing a situation by taking a picture of her so that a silly “story” sells appears to be the norm. What would it have taken for someone around her to say “Uma, your slip is riding up. Pull it down before some fool with a camera sees you.” Clearly, there was a slip underneath the top fabric and it did ride up. Sometimes those things happen. Apparently the designer of the dress should have paid more attention to the flow of fabric when putting one against the other.

Uma, find a better designer and surround yourself with people having more compassion.

Huge happenings throughout the world always take center stage even though most of us can do nothing but talk about them-usually. And the small things in life affect our individual lives, and the lives of others, and we can do more than talk about them. Perhaps in the whole scheme of life there are no small happenings. All those seemingly uneventful things-all those individual choices made on a daily basis are adding up and trickling down and affecting the world in some way. Small things can pack a wallop, too.

Yesterday I had a delightful conversation with a young, old friend, he said, “When I think about what had to happen for all of us to be here, at this particular time, it becomes a staggering thought, because it could be that three centuries ago, someone dodged a bullit, someone else changed her/his mind shortly before a marriage ceremony, and someone else made a quick trip to the general store for a forgotten item and met his future wife.” An interesting point, I said. And listened and thought of all the ways there are of pondering life.

Small happenings and endless possibilites down through the ages can bring about huge happenings.

There are times when there’s something magical in riding the Hudson Line. The reason I say this is that I’ve had the most intense conversations – happy and enlightening ones – with strangers, strangers who ask a question and the question turns into 90 minutes of non-stop talk after which we either say goodbye at Grand Central Terminal as if saying goodbye to a dear friend, or we exchange email addresses. www.grandcentralterminal.com

Of course there are times when it’s nice just sitting alone by a window with a view of the River. I used to bring a book for the ride, not anymore. Summertime is lovely, riding alongside the River’s edge allows passengers a perfect view of activities on the water. There are days when kayakers are out on the River. Some move in a slow rhythm relishing the simple pleasures of man, boat, river, on a lazy sunny summer day. Other kayakers seem to race against themselves quickly and gracefully. Boats can be seen at a distance from the train. And people standing on the River’s shore sometimes turn to wave as the train passes. The other day we saw a few water skiers. One fell as the train passed by. Interestingly enough the passengers on the train either laughed or gasped as the skier struggled to get up. Did he know he had an audience or was he focused on other things?

Then as the train nears Manhattan the energy quickens, The towns the train passes look more serious. Even the River takes on a different look-not good or bad-just different. And passengers begin to brace themselves in preparation for the big, beautiful, bustling city of Manhattan.

It’s the end of the line.

A few days ago as I was walking along a street, I could see two men in work-clothes standing on the sidewalk facing the side of a parked red truck. As I continued walking in their direction, I noticed their eyes never left the truck. They looked lost in thought when viewed from a block away, not in an unusual way, but rather like a Norman Rockwell scene. As I reached the truck, I saw they were focused on a painting that was leaning against the truck. No one else was around, perhaps they’d just bought the painting, or been given the painting. From the way they were looking at it, obviously trying to make some sense of it, it was hard to guess how it got into their possession. As I passed them, I heard one of the men say of the painting, “It is what it is.” The other man had no response. I glanced at the painting in passing. Had I lingered along with them, I would have been in their same puzzled state, staring and saying, “Yes, it is what it is.” And that was a good description of what it was. People used to say “interesting” for want of a better word, but “It is what it is” does nicely, too.

I’ve been hearing that phrase a lot lately, that, or “It is as it is.” There’s a feeling of acceptance when you hear the words, and they’re often said with a kind of gentleness, too. Whatever it is about those words, they seem to work for all occasions.

Last week I was that annoying person on a cell phone in a public place. The phone call went on, and although I could have ended it, it would have set the wrong tone for resuming the conversation at a later time. So, I didn’t end it. However, it was easy to sense that those around were just a little disquieted. Since that time, I realized that sometimes it’s necessary to allow the call, even when it is a bit disturbing to those around because some callers simply need to talk at that particular time whether it’s business or personal. And when you have no where to go, what are you to do?

In the past, I wasn’t annoyed when an adult conversation took place in a mature way. What was annoying was when someone talked on and on about their trials and tribulations, sending a flash of uneasiness in the area of those having to listen. The one source of comfort in that situation is enjoying the fact that you’re not the one at the other end of that call. Then there are those days when all is subdued, you’re in a quiet place, or using public transportation, or reading a book, or having a pleasant dining experience, suddenly an irritating voice comes out of nowhere, the subjects being discussed are office politics and a relationship gone wrong (very wrong), and you’re taken aback. Then again, there are those phone conversations that are really funny, and you don’t mind being a part of it, and you think to yourself, this person should have a talk show. I wonder whether they’re in the entertainment field. They’re hilarious. And you silently say, thanks for the laughs.

But, alas, my phone conversation last week on public transportation wasn’t of that ilk, and so I apologize to those who sat patiently waiting til it ended, and to those who directed a hairy eyeball my way, I say sometimes a call can’t be ended just like that. I know though that you wanted peace and quiet with your newspaper before returning home. I’m sorry if I disrupted the flow for you. But I must explain that the engines were louder than usual which caused the voice to be louder than usual. And as I’m writing, it’s dawning on me how loud it all must have been then.

For me, every morning is a coffee morning. A delicious, full-bodied coffee morning. You, too? Yesterday I was supposed to buy more coffee. Lately I’ve been buying Ethiopian Harrar coffee. Waiting in line though always leaves ample time to be swayed because the person(s) in front of me usually have a dialogue going with the “coffee expert”, behind the counter. So instead of having Ethiopian Harrar in mind, I begin to consider switching. Ah, but switching can be a problem. What if their tastes are entirely different from mine? “Be a sport,” I tell myself, “try it.” And so it goes until it’s my turn. By the time I reach the counter the choice can go either way, and it usually depends on nothing really, whatever comes to mind at the time.

However, yesterday I didn’t buy coffee, and this morning there was only about two tablespoons left – enough for a small French Press. Perfect! I measured two tablespoons of coffee into the French Press. But the French Press was filled with the water I’d forgotten to heat. And there floated the two tablespoons of coffee in the cold water. www.sweetmarias.com/prod.brewers.frenchpress.shtml

Tea is fine, too, but a delicious, full-bodied cup of coffee is a very nice way to start the day.

What would we do if we didn’t have the word “thing”? It’s a really convenient word, with many, many different ways of using it. It’s an every day word. When I began pondering the word, I realized just what a good word it is. It’s the kind of word that easily replaces many other words that don’t necessarily come to mind at the moment.

Are you going to the thing uptown tonight?

What a useful word it is.
The thing I like best about him is his compassion.

It’s a elusive word – unclear, but manages to zero in on something.
Can you remember the one thing that inspired you?

The more I think about it, the stranger the word gets.
How would you describe that thing in the water?

I could stay up all night thinking about all the ways to use “thing,” but that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. Instead I’ll see what dictionary.com has to say about the whole thing.

I have respect for this peculiar, rather mysterious, never quite specific, delightful and funny little word.

I was standing in a very long slow line at Grand Central Station a few weeks ago to buy a ticket on the Hudson Line. A not too shabby homeless man was working the line I was in. All of a sudden he pulled me away from what I was thinking as I heard him say to us, “Why are you all standing here? There are a bunch of ticket machines across from Gate 33, and you won’t have to wait long.” That made me think. I followed his advice and, although the line was long there it moved quickly, and before I knew it I had my ticket. I had passed those ticket machines countless number of times, and never saw them. Hmm! Where was I? www.grandcentralterminal.com

I owe that homeless man with the good advice.