I take the 5:40 train into New York city. I do this every morning. Sometimes it’s a joy and sometimes it’s a drag. It’s a drag when I’m standing in my cluster next to the conservative who’s is going to tell me, again, what is wrong with the country and how it’s all Obama’s fault and did I listen to Rush Limbaugh yesterday morning? He knows damn well that I did not. At least not without wanting to toss the damn thing out the window. Some mornings I feel like tossing a conservative under a passing train. but in reality I would never do such a thing, but it’s nice to dream.
I get to Grand Central station at 6:50 AM and walk to my job at Park Ave. and 54th St. I do concierge and valet work at one of the many social clubs in the area. It’s a mindless job dealing with the wants and needs of the wealthy.
You’d like to purchase a belt, sir. A size 36? Here you go. sir. What? It doesn’t fit. But I assure you, sir, it is a 36. It’s right on the belt. A misprint you say? No way you could be bigger than a 36? Right you are, sir, let me give you a misprinted 48. (I don’t say that. I’d be out of a job.) There how about that? Fits just fine? I’m so glad.
I go through many such trivial matters throughout the course of the day before catching the 4:45 train home to Cold Spring in the Hudson Valley. It’s a lovely artsy-fartsy community with a quaint old vibe to it. It suits us just fine. On Saturday evening on Main Street you may fine my wife and I parked in our Adirondack chairs with ukuleles at the ready. Cocktails and ukuleles and no work the next day puts us in a good mood. I started playing one of my wife’s ukulele because
I found that you can’t play guitar in an Adirondack chair. At least not without one of you getting hurt. My wife suggested a chair with no arms, but that would kill the whole outdoor sitting in an Adirondack chair having cocktails while playing the ukulele mood.
Then it’s off to bed in a boozy, but happy frame of mind.
Sunday morning awaits and it’s newspapers and pancakes or newspapers and omelets. Sometimes, though, I just prefer the comic section and coffee. A no news Sunday I like to call it. Give my thoughts a break. Better for the blood pressure and mental health.
So I am hereafter proclaing Sundays an official Comics and coffee day. Love the one your with. Wave to your neighbors. Climb a tree. Row a boat and, yes, play a ukulele. You’ll be the better for it. Because they’ll always be a Monday morning 5:40 train in the near future. And write, write, write. It’s good for the soul. Peace on you all.