SUMMERTIME

Most of our loyal readers must by now know my distaste for city living and my preference for the windswept vistas of the high plains and the fecund beauty of Western Ohio.

What you may not know is that I sometimes find myself in the heart of Manhattan and even sometimes find myself enjoying it. Just such an occasion presented itself a few days ago.

One of the most dramatic neighborhood transitions anywhere is that between Manhattan's silk-stocking district of the upper east side and Spanish Harlem. East 97th street is like a national border in that the difference between the area south of it and that north of it could be in two different countries. Park Avenue is a broad boulevard which runs north from Grand Central Station and is divided by a wide, park-like median below which run the tracks that lead into and out of Grand Central. It is lined, for the most part by office buildings and further north, apartment buildings boasting doormen attended entrance awnings, gilded entrance hardware, marble floored lobbies leading to some high ceilinged, duplex (and more) apartments peopled by  New York's monied citizens.

At 97th street, all that changes. The tracks, cleverly hidden beneath decorative greenery, emerge from the depths to form an ugly ribbon of impassable steel bordered by dirt blackened granite block stone walls which probably haven't been washed for over 125 years. The tracks essentially divide Park Avenue into 2 separate streets and for the first five blocks north of 97th street you cannot get from one side of the tracks to the other. The neighborhood along this stretch of the avenue reflects the general squalor and industrial quality imparted to it by the tracks.

I mention all this to set the scene for my latest city experience. I visited the city one lovely summer morning a few days ago. I crossed over from the Henry Hudson Drive on 96th street, through the park via the transverse and onto East 96th street, enjoying the freshness of the morning in a beautiful neighborhood while searching for a place to park, either on the street or in a garage. I turned onto Madison avenue and encountered a Manhattan traffic jam which can test the nerves and skill of any driver attempting to negotiate a street littered with construction vehicles, double parked trucks,  blocked lanes, and taxis making a bee line to the curb across several lanes of moving truck, taxi, limousine and passenger car traffic. This was all compounded by a hospital entrance which was in the process of being renovated. I safely survived this gauntlet and came up to Fifth avenue where sunlight stippled the pavement poking through the thick canopy of leaves from large street trees on both sides.

As I moved down the avenue, I saw a sight which delighted my senses. Walking towards us, a woman pushing a carriage appeared, accompanied by a bevy of little children, maybe 7 years old, dressed neatly in summer pinafores and outfits, each wheeling an identical scooter except for the colors which included pinks, greens and yellows. They came to the light at 98th street and formed up in a neat group to cross Fifth avenue. What especially caught my attention was the eager happy expression on each of their faces as they waited patiently for the light to change.

All the tensions of the last 10 minutes slipped away and stayed away the rest of the day. My one regret was that I didn't think of photographing them until it was too late.

Flag Guy

There is an interesting phenomena that is probably exclusive to New York City, but might be found in other big downtown urban areas where parking is at a premium. It is the Flag Guy. This is usually an older gentleman that stands outside of parking garages and waves a flag to attract the attention of motorists who might be looking to park, but could miss the entrance to the lot. I assume the reason for the Flag Guy is that it is helpful on crowded streets where trucks or double parked cars and cabs can obstruct the sight lines of drivers, to have someone draw attention to the entrance. The large overhead  signs, as well as sidewalk signs, can be missed by a harried driver, unfamiliar with an area, who didn't budget enough time to account for circling looking for a spot or garage, on top of midtown NYC traffic.

So it seems that some of the more enterprising garages have gone out and hired an old guy to stand in front of the garage all day, like the greeters in Walmart, and waves a big orange construction type flag at the passing motorists to bring their attention to the availability of parking in the area.

However, yesterday I saw either a new breed of Flag Guy, or a Flag Guy gone nuts.

I was driving on the east side of Manhattan in the Eighties. As I came down the block, I spotted a Flag Guy up ahead. As I got closer, he GLARED at me, and then VIOLENTLY swiped his flag at me, ORDERING me to pull in OR ELSE!!

I thought perhaps that I had misinterpreted the move and the sneer, but as traffic was barely moving at that point, I had the opportunity to have the performance performed for me a second time. More glares and flag snapping ensued.

So as I passed him I thought perhaps the man had a bad experience once with a blue Honda, but to be sure, I kept an eye on him in the rear view mirror.

I saw that the next car also received the same treatment, glares, sneers and vicious flag snapping ensured.

So i realized that the flag guy either (1) hated his job, (2) hated all cars on general principles or based on  an experience with a car, or (3) hates people in general.

Not really the best basis for that kind of job.

Milk Etiquette

As promised, here is the first of the teased posts.

I was in the fridge yesterday, late for our trip up through the wilds of upstate New York and Pennsylvania, and looking for the milk to put in my iced coffee. I was really looking forward to this particular cup, as it was my first in three months. As the family waited impatiently for me in the car, as I was running late as usual, I COULD NOT LOCATE THE MILK.

Milk is supposed to stay in the same place in the fridge, Just like one should not leave just a drip in the container and put it back, or put it back if it is spoiled, one should not return he milk to a different spot in said refrigerator, This is just basic milk etiquette, that everyone is or should be aware of.

However, these rules were clearly not be followed in my house yesterday. There is a possibility that the milk WAS put in the right place, but then other things were put in front of it, in violation of the rules, which caused it to move into the back of the fridge, with clearly NON -MILK items in front of it. Or someone just put it in the back of the fridge, which is a capital offence to milk etiquette everywhere. Either way, this is where I found it. In the back of the fridge, with no other milk products in front of it.

So to review.

1.    Do not put a container with just a drip of milk left back in the refrigerator

2.    If the milk is bad*, throw it away ( *This rule is suspended for those who refuse to believe that milk ever goes bad.)

3.    Put the milk back where it belongs.

4.    Do not put it in the back of the fridge, or in a different place each time.

5.     Except for other containers of milk with more recent expiration dates, do not put other things in front of the milk. Some other milk based or related products can go in front of milk, but it is not considered classy to do so.

6.     If you finish the last container, either replace it or tell someone who does the purchasing that the house is out of milk.


Please remember these rules, there will be a test on it later.

10,000!!! Yay!!!

We did it, dear readers! Together with your diligent looking ( very often futilely) for new posts, and reading the ones that actually got past the editorial board, we passed the 10,000 hit mark. I shall now do an analysis as to how the readership is trending, and post it at another time.

On behalf of Soupeater and myself,  we thank you for your continued loyalty.

Some upcoming posts include milk etiquette, pie, and angry flag men,  so keep checking!

Summer Break from the Break

Small change in plans for the summer. due to a nephews wedding, my house is full of children! I have truly become an old fuddy-duddy, as I love it when all my kids are under my roof. Tonight Stretch picked up Boo from camp and brought her home. So for tonight and tomorrow, I have a full house, with the added addition of a niece for the evening as well.

Maybe I will wave at them all.

Keep out of the Bushes

Bug came over to me and informed me that there was no more string in the weedwacker. Considering that we have barely used it since we got it, I was a little surprised that the spool was used up already. So I decided to do a little investigating, and asked him exactly what he was working on that used it up. He informed me that he decided to clear out an area of the lawn that is basically overgrown, but is on the edge of the property, not near a part of the lawn that we ever use.

I asked him why he decided to weedwack the bushes. I am still waiting for a coherent answer, other than  "They were there."

When is the summer over?