It was shortly after seven on a recent chilly weeknight on the Upper West Side.
More like a freezing cold night.
I was doing some after work multitasking – laundry and food shopping at my market on Upper Broadway, Fairway. I had just tossed my clothes in a drier and then made a beeline to purchase foodstuffs. As I was exiting Fairway in my usual irrational hurry, as if walking faster would somehow make my chores finish sooner, I noticed an elderly man with a cane walking stiffly. The expression on his face looked disoriented. I wondered:
Me: Is he okay? Am I supposed to do something here?
He had a thick thatch of snow-white hair and was wearing crisply pressed casual clothes and immaculate white sneakers. His cane looked like it was made from some fancy wood, not a piece of crap you can buy at The Piece of Crap store. I figured that he was a long time Upper West Side resident, probably a lifelong liberal that made good money, has had at least one wife and a few kids and grandkids. It’s possible that his family loves him very much. He probably is respected amongst his peers, however many of them are still kicking. He didn’t look like a bastard and might have even had dogs and cats in his life. Possibly he might even have or had a crazy bird bursting with personality like my longtime bud, BatPat, and her feathered friend, Buttafuoco.
“I’m always ready for my close-up!”
For all I know he might even have a lovely aquarium in his home right now. This old guy was very likely a good guy, someone who will be sorely missed by many when he buys his rainbow.
As I walked on, I was haunted by the likelihood that this fellow was in the throes of some sort of health emergency. Since I did notice him, I was his human Life Alert. How could I walk on? What if this man was my own Dear Old Dad, there was a woman like me that noticed that he might be in trouble, but she ignored the signs and walked away? I thought:
Me: You cold-hearted bitch. I hate you!
Instantly, I suffered Grade A level guilt. I turned back to look at the man on the bustling avenue, narrowly avoiding getting run over by two completely oblivious teenage girls that had just blown past him. They momentarily obscured my view of what was going on with this fine fellow. This prompted me to think:
Me (thinking): Just the type of brats that would suck the marrow out of their grandfathers’ bones! Ingrates!
Quickly, my senior citizen was back in view. He was now looking quite contorted — bent at the waist, knees starting to buckle, awkwardly holding his cane with his left hand while reaching down towards the sidewalk with his right. I reasoned that he was desperately trying to break the hard fall that was surely coming. I gasped. I shifted the gears in my feet to turbo-charge. Arthritic knee be damned! With puffs of exhaust jetting out of my butt-ugly hybrid winter boot-sneakers courtesy of the Land’s End Women of a Certain Age Exchange Style for Price collection, I motored to his rescue. I could hear him groaning. I screamed inside my head:
Me: Hang on, Mister! A lot of people love you!
As I was almost upon him, I realized that he wasn’t suffering a stroke or a heart attack. He was reaching down to pick up a nickel off the sidewalk.
Crisis averted.
Coveted coinage.
OMG! SHE’S BACK! I laughed throughout the entire post. Hilarious! When I get really old – much older than I am now – I’ll probably have lots of these experiences. I’ll be the town’s old lady, leaning over in the middle of traffic trying to pry out the dime that has melted into the asphalt. I have my eye on that dime. I walk past it regularly. It’s driving me nuts. I just need to get about 10 years older and then I won’t care what people think when I bend down, tweezer in hand and try to dig the damn thing out of the pavement.
You are a fine humanitarian. I wonder how many people you knocked down trying to get to the old dude.
Good to have you back over here, Jean! I know that dime well, too, since it’s nationally embedded treasure. At this stage of personal decrepitude, I only stoop for quarters and cash. As for how many people I mowed over trying to get to the old dude, that’s a good question. Let’s just say I was influenced by the car chase scene in The French Connection.
Philadelphia is somewhat slower paced than New York. Down here you could have picked up the nickle for him and handed it to him. In NY he mighta hit you on the head with the cane as you bent over and screamed “That’s MY nickle, Bitch!” :>
Heh, I say that because I had ALMOST that experience after being in Philly for three years working in a Quaker peace commune. I went to NY to visit my family and stopped in one of the new video game parlors in Penn Station. A guy was standing playing a game while about two feet away another guy was sitting on a tall stool playing a game. I stood there watching the two of them for a moment as the sitter finished and walked away. The stander started to reach over for the stool, just barely touched it and then something exploded on his screen and he had to snatch his hand back to jiggle the button. I figured I’d be nice, and went to move the stool over for him.
Of course as I reached forward, the next thing I heard
THAT”S MY F”N SEAT ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!
and I was lucky to escape with my teeth!
:>
MJM
Yes, it is true, Michael, that I could have picked up the nickel for him, but I did have flashbacks of getting beaten by a cane — something that actually happened to me about 23 years ago when I held the door for an elderly woman with a cane as she was exiting the Korean market near where I live. Did that gesture detonate her! I got it good across the shoulders. Looking back, I now realize that her astrological sign is the 13th one, Sour. Anyway, I’ve been cane-shy ever since. That angry bat was probably the mother or grandmother of those guys you recently encountered in Penn Station. It’s a relief to know that you escaped that bit of New York hospitality with your teeth.
Good to hear from you!
Meant to add a P.S. : And that’s part of why I’ve remained in Philly for the last 30 years! LOL!
Philly is known as the city of brotherly love.
There really is a whole ‘nuther level of shit going on in your brain.
One question (for now): What color are your boots?
God bless you LA woman.
Are you mocking the way my mind works? Who do you think you are Wingman — Milton?
This is funny as hell! ~Laughing~
Shirley, Sandee, you identify! I know that you must have witnessed this sort of thing!
Yes I Shirley have! Ahahahaha! Thanks for making me laugh!
You’re welcome buddy!
Piece of Crap Store–FTW!
I thought you were going to steal the old dude’s cane.
Brilliant post, hon!
Jus wondering if FTW is somehow related to my favorite exclamation WTF.
For The Win…
Thank you for once again contributing to the educational component of this site, Jules! Now, Mike can finally finish his doctorate in Acronyms.
No, I obey the 11th commandment, Jules, “Thou shalt not cover thy neighbor’s wood.”
Thanks Jules.
hahaha…..he wasn’t ill, just cheap. That was funny V.
That’s true, Wendy, and I made a spectacle out of myself running like I was going for Olympic gold … so all is right in the world.
hahahahaha
Excellent post, I didn’t see the ending coming. I thought it was going to turn nasty, as in the man hitting you with the cane, luckily it wasn’t.
Really funny, loved it.
Thanks Leo. When I saw what he was actually doing, I veered far away from him. If he noticed me, he probably thought, “Look at that running jackass. What the hell is her problem?”
ha haa he didn’t look like a bastard. This was so damn funny woman. I laughed the whole way– just like everyone else. Love the boots too. Sigh we all have em. And damn it has been freaking miserably cold eh?
What does a bastard look like exactly, come to think of it? These are definitely boots I never in a million years would have worn under age 40, but now I make more of an effort to be loved for my mind than my footwear. It’s been sooooooooooooooooo cold, but I prefer the cold to the blistering summer heat.
I hate shoes to be honest. I’d rather where sneakers with everything and by everything I mean jeans every day.
I would take 95 degrees every day over any of this damn coldness
I’d take 75 with no humidity — and I much prefer wearing my Jack Purcell badminton shoes to these fugly winter boots.
badminton shoes..never heard of them. I am going to googles these skips now
Jack Purcells are Converse with a smile in the toe, Audra.
yea I figured that out .. and I like’em
They’re shoes that will like you right back, provided you don’t get one like my new left one that I’m still breaking in. The heel portion is still feeling a bit like it’s lined with razor wire.
ouch
Haaaaa!!!! Leave it to you to try to do a good deed for Ebenezer Scrooge! A very hearty post holiday “Bah Humbug!” to you!
You’ve got that right, Max. It would have to be at least a twenty dollar bill slow floating at chest level before my Dear Old Dad would make a move like that.
V, you make me laugh out loud. What a humanitarian you are. Sainthood is most likely in your future. At least it’s getting warmer. Do you pick up nickels off of NYC streets? Not sure I’d bend down for less than a dollar coin myself. And glad you got past the “OMG like whatever” girls to make sure the elderly guy was okay.
Since I often suffer lower back pain, I only stoop for higher value coinage (quarters on up) and cash Brigitte. Oh! You’ve encountered those girls, too?
oh, thank you. Your story really hit the spot as I sit here toiling in the throes of writing advertising copy for nonagenarians. I loved the delicious description of your boots! You are a true humanitarian.
Gee, thanks for the compliment Jane. I thought I was a bit of a conclusion jumping bonehead. With enough ridiculously deep Land’s End savings, I’m waiting for the day when they’ll just let me have boots like those for free.
Hey a nickel is like worth about 2 cents these days!
I gotta believe a “lame” conversation ensued. Is there a part II?
No, I averted any lame-style conversation with this aborted rescue mission for fear of somehow getting swatted with that cane, Susie!
Good one as usual!
Thanks George!
You were sweet to think of the old fella. However, the word on the street is that he’s a cheap bastard.
Yeah, I think word leaked out about that over here, Smak.
And I wonder if the “Piece of Crap” store is anything like a useless crap store, where they sell scented stationary and mugs with those creepy naked “love is” kids.
Clearly, you know the EXACT store I was referring to, you sage, you. Also, those stores smell funny, too, like boiled pine, not that I’ve ever tried to boil a forest. If I did, I’d make sure to write about it here.
Eagle-Eye LA Woman ever vigilant!
You know me, BatPat! I always trust what I’m seeing through my fog-filled glasses.
you’re a good kid, sugar, but tell me this: WTF happened to your groceries with all that running? ;~) xoxox
Funny you should ask Savannah, but I pretty much do my marketing daily, so it wasn’t a heavy bag. You know, little more than a few rolls, bananas and a small slab of yogurt cheese. Boring foodstuffs.
Loved this!
Awwwwwww, thanks, pal.
V,
You made me laugh out loud, seriously. Actually, this was a great piece of writing – cudos. And thank God, it was at least a nickel and not a penny.
Cathy
Cathy, if I knew from the start that that look in his eye was just for a nickel, I would have gladly written him a check to spare him all the backbreaking maneuvering.
Maybe it’s how he keeps himself flexible…
Some say that yoga is overrated …
True…I guess the other good news is that his eyesight was good enough to spot the nickel on the ground.
Good point. I’m sure that whoever dropped it has hearing as shot as mine and didn’t notice it fall. Hm, possibly it was even me that dropped it.
Hmmm, a new Zen koan: If a coin falls on the pavement on the Upper West Side and no one hears it, does it still make a sound? Or something like that.
Unless it falls near a microphone connected to a loud speaker, I guarantee you that this Upper West Sider won’t hear it!
Well, you’ve lived in the city a long time, V. Probably have some true hearing loss, but also a refined set of filters. I have good hearing, but I’m not sure I’d hear a coin dropped on the pavement on a busy city street. It was a great story…
Very true about the filters, Cathy. I had no problem reading The New Yorker while riding the 2 train with a mariachi band playing on board, but I did exit craving Mexican food.
Ahh, the power of suggestion. Mariachi bands make me crave Mexican food every time…Maybe something about the subconscious always working?
The dial of my subconscious is usually stuck on TIN, The Irritation Network, but there might be some validity to that idea.
…As well as a strong desire to support the new bipartisan immigration reform plan that was announced today in the Senate.
You probably wrote that bit of snark while eating your bedtime burrito and quaffing a Corona.
If only. Although I did have Southwest Chicken soup from Progresso and a habanero cheddar and Edam grilled cheese sandwich for supper. Alas, I am lurking outside a young divorcee’s house in Upper Montclair right now. D2 has a babysitting gig and her client is kinda late. Feel like some sort of middle aged stalker but in reality I’m a good dad. D2 has midterm exams in Honors English and, ironically, Spanish IV tomorrow. Hope she’s in there studying!
Or should I say “yo espero que ella esta estudiando.”
Whoever translates that phrase first gets to eat Doritos at Mike G’s casa on Super Bowl Sunday, but since he’s in mourning over his beloved Patriots losing to the Ravens, you’re going to have to watch the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet.
Was gonna root for your dad’s Niners until I saw Ravens linebacker Brendon Ayanbadejo’s post game support for marriage equality for the LGBT community. Class act even though he’s a Raven!
The Niners are from San Francisco — that city is marriage equality incarnate! The Niners MUST win!
Or she’s inside glued to MTV.
IF not for exams I’d have to say you would be spot on.
I winged all of my exams, so if you want to scare the studying bejesus into her, just let her visit my site.
Or spend 4 hours at The Grind reorganizing tile displays.
The other day Elsbeth was saying that we could sure use an intern …
Really good story, V. Funny, touching and it even had a kind of a crisis/chase scene it. I love your character study. I do that with people. I get a whole scenario about them, their spouses, how mean their mother was, offspring, whether they really do like refried beans with their sushi …, and my daughter does the same thing, so when she is with me we get a whole movie going. When you’re done, you feel like you’ve had this long conversation with them while actually you were only gazing at them from a distance.
Ya gotta think, the guy lived through the Great Depression and since we’ve been on the brink of another, he is wisely going for the nickel.
Samantha, speaking of nickels and saving on the brink of a new Depression, I’m on an email list run by an older fella from my alma mater and he’s gone on at some length about how we should all be hoarding bags of nickels. :> Evidently pre-1982(?) nickels have some metal content that is speculated to be on the brink of greatly increasing in value. They may already be worth 6 cents or so in melt value.
:>
Michael
P.S. That 1982 date might be wrong… I might be getting it mixed up with the transition from copper pennies (worth almost 2 cents in melt value I think) and zinc pennies (worth bupkis.)
P.P.S. In the midst of all this budget cutting, why don’t they ever consider a cessation of minting pennies?
Well, and meanwhile, we need the eagle-eyesight to spot the pre-1982 (or whatever) dates on the coins. My fear with the cessation of pennies is that the greedy will round prices up another nickel or dime or — quarter? — rather than pennies. Actually, what I just said is stupid, because prices already increase by dollars, by the week often.
You might want to check out that link I gave Michael, too, for it does give the arguments for and against laying the penny to rest. Personally, I’m pro penny simply because I do use them.
I know we’ve never run into each other at the market cuz I’ve never been to Fairway, especially on the UWS. But please tell me your not one of those women (yea I’m being sexist but I have nearly 35 years of adult ages empirical proof) who wait until the final bill is tallied before reaching for the change purse to count out exactly 68 cents. #!#%^#
Thank you. My spleen feels fully vented now
I never go that insane, but my always perfectly put together fashionista friend (think Carrie Bradshaw but attractive), Coco, ALWAYS does that. When you look like her, and you radiate charm from the top of your head to the bottom of your stilettos, people never seem to mind. If I pulled that, I’d probably be beaten to within an inch of my life — with a cash register drawer.
Hey Michael, it seems like Samantha didn’t catch your response to her comment. Here’s an online article about the penny debate that might interest you:
http://coins.about.com/od/uscoins/i/penny_debate_2.htm
Thanks for the link. I haven’t taken sides on this debate. On the side of those who wait in line with their ice cream melting, I do know that those who dig into their pockets to pull out their pennies, also pull out buttons, lint, an odd assortment of things, and then have to spread them out on the counter, sort through them and find the pennies.
I’m relatively penny-prepared.
I lean more towards the penny side — because I used them too, and I actually do pick them up, even face down (the penny, that is).
Phew! Glad you clarified whose face you were referencing here!
Or, my take on him could be completely off the mark, and my pal, Martini Max’s could have been completely on the money (pun intended) when he referred to the guy as Ebenezer Scrooge. No doubt that he was a youngster during the depression, but my gut feeling, Samantha, was that he was someone that did not really need that last nickel today.
Gut feelings count (pun intended).
It’s good to know there are people like you on the streets every day, LA. You may be in another country, but it’s the thought that matters! By the way, did you pick the coin up for him or let him get it himself?
Tom, I wouldn’t go anywhere near his coveted coin for fear of finding myself caned under the law of “finders keepers”. What if he thought I was trying to take it and he gives me a hard whack over the head? I wouldn’t dare risk it!
*Heaves sigh of relief*….I love the idea of being someone’s life alert. I think you did your job admirably. Got to give people their space, keep them at the edge of your vision just in case….
I am sure my being thunderfoot had me at the edge of his vision Kate.
I was actually riveted by this. Ha. It would have been amazing if he’d thought you were racing to beat him to the nickel and held up his cane threateningly. “I saw it first, missy! Get back!”
Oh, a variation of that was so at the forefront of my thoughts when I realized what he was actually doing, Mike! I nearly pulled a hamstring when I eased up on my gallop.
Amen to that. And can I get a hallelujah for the stilettoes?
For the record, she’s like my straight kid sister, if I had one of those.
I had some awareness of that.
Sent from my iPhone
Okay, now you have complete awareness.
To paraphrase Bill Murray’s Carl in Caddyshack: So I got that going for me, which is good.
Bill’s the Man even when he’s called Carl.
I think the penny would have more supporters if banks were required to accept them in unrolled form. At the moment I have one of those 48oz(?) tomato juice tins or pipe tobacco tins filled with $30 worth of pennies give or take about 25 cents by weight. I am not a “speed roller.” Plus I’d feel sort of obligated to count each batch twice to make sure I had the amount right.
There’s no reason why banks can’t spend the $25 to $50 or so that it would take to have a scale that would give a penny count accurate to within a nickle or less. They could make up the cost of the scale by a surcharge rounding down to the nearest nickle — or they could make a fortune by rounding down to the nearest dime or dollar!
A slightly sad but also rather funny story: When my mother died almost twenty years ago, my brother and I spent several months cleaning out the old family home. Over many years the family had filled one of those big (about two feet high, 15″ or so in diameter) plastic whiskey-bottle coin bottles with perhaps a hundred pounds or so of pennies. One late night we decided to carry the bottle out to my brother’s car and bring it to his home for his young daughters to count and roll (Kid slave labor fer pennies, ain’t it great?). We hefted it out to the curb and went to put it down on the sidewalk while the car door was unlocked and the local gang of ne’er-do-wells eyed us from their corner hangout. We were trying to be low-profile, quiet, and quick.
Of course as soon as the thin, brittle plastic hit the irregulaties of a Brooklyn slate sidewalk the entire bottle split open as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer and it sounded like the million-dollar-Las-Vegas-Slot-Machine had hit a big one! The gang stopped talking and just stood there staring at us.
For the next fifteen minutes or so my brother and I, trying to contain our laughter and embarrassment and concerns were scooping handfuls of pennies into the air and just throwing them into his open car. Meanwhile, one of my mother’s neighbors, someone she never got along with and who disapproved of both her and us, walked by and just stood there for a while glaring at us as though we were gleefully robbing her grave and just throwing her riches around.
Sooooo…. that’s MY big penny story!
Michael
Great story, Michael.
That’s a GREAT penny story Michael! It should be filmed by Martin Scorsese. Thanks for sharing it with us here in Lame Adventures-land.
So all you New Yorkers aren’t so jaded after all
Shhhhhhhhhhhh, keep that on the down low, Kylie!
Gee Lame, you sure analysed the hell out of that old fart. Was it the white shoes that triggered the caring emotions? As I get older (and more senile), I hope there will be someone like you in my neck of the woods who will rush to my rescue when two apparently drunken hillbillies attempt to make me bob for false teeth in a bucket of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
Hilarious, Russell! Oh, how can I explain it? He stood right in front of me so I was fixated and couldn’t forget it. Joy, your floating dentures are now on my brain. Hey, are you aware that PBR is hipster swill up here?
I love it. This really is one of those Only in New York stories. You’re a good person to have noticed him and to have readied yourself to come to his aid. Good to know he’s still spry enough to see and pick up nickels. I also love that BatPat has a bird named Buttafuoco.
Ah, there you are Weebs! Good point. I guarantee you that absolutely, positively no way would my San Francisco pappy do that.
Confidential P.S. Vote for our mutual friend, Kate!
I will vote, yes! And sorry, I’m patheticallly behind on your blog (and many others.)
Excellent, pal! Is it because you have something going on with Robert Cornelius? Relax, all you dirty minds out there, the guy’s been dead 120 years and Weebs is not a necrophiliac … This is “shop talk”.
HA! No, I haven’t even been that productive, getting down with Robbie C. Mainly just laziness and actual work shit getting in the way. I hate that.
I hear you about having to do actual work stuff. It is a time suck. I don’t think I’m lazy but I do get sleepier as the week progresses.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Holy Crap! This was hilarious. I can just see you in your “sneakers courtesy of the Land’s End Women of a Certain Age Exchange Style for Price collection,” rushing off to the scene. Full of guilt ready to save the day, only to have him pick up some change. Ah … what twist. Didn’t see it coming. Thanks for the laugh. I am going to bed in good mood because of your little story.
Excellent Guat! I woke up hot flashing over here.
French Connection: best. car. chase. ever. Found you through Susie, too. Hope inflation never leads us to only consider Susan B. Anthony pieces.
Nice job.
I agree with you Bob; that chase scene in FC is a classic. What’s a bit melancholy about that film to me now is that there’s a shot where you can see the World Trade Center under construction. I also like the chase scene in Bullitt very much, and for comic effect, I loved the looney chase in What’s Up Doc?
They still make SAB dollars? It’s Sacagawea now … and yes, I had to look that up since I was tempted to suggest it’s Pocahontas.