Closer to Home
January 11, 2013 / A Short Trip on the Subway
I like to say that I don’t care where I travel, I just want to GO. I’ve been to 98 countries so far but I like going anywhere new. Or even a place that I’ve been thousands of times but can decide to look at as if it were new or even exotic.
So I had a short trip on the subway yesterday, an unseasonably-warm winter day, a no-coat day.
I have to walk about fifteen minutes to the subway station. The unexpected warmth brought out smiles as strangers passed each other. Now why would that be? I guess the smile is a short-hand way of saying Isn’t this great? Have you ever noticed that people out in the very early morning also smile or nod at each other or even—amazing!—say Good morning? Some time I will have to conduct a survey to discover at what time that early-morning behavior tails off.
There was a small sign in a window: BEWARE OF DOG - Cat Is Not Trustworthy Either. What? Does that mean that the cat wrote the part about the dog and the dog is denying it? Does it mean that neither the dog nor cat is friendly? Does it mean that one should believe that about the dog but believe nothing the cat says? As a cat person I agree that cats are not to be trusted but I think it’s kind of harsh to broadcast that shortcoming of one’s own cat.
Near the subway entrance is a new business. There is a large, hopeful red neon sign on its front window—OPEN--but I see no lights within and definitely no people. It has only been here a month or so. Somebody’s dream, now so quickly turned to ashes. How many people does this evident failure affect? The carcass of a dead business is a pitiful, doleful thing.
Everybody sitting across from me on the subway car is viewing a screen of some kind, wandering in worlds different from the real one in which we are traveling. They may not be thinking much about how we are rushing in a metal box through a skinny rocky tunnel over one hundred feet under the daylit surface. Might give them a shudder if they wrapped their minds around that.
What’s this? A smartly-suited man gets on, and he is carrying, or cuddling, a stuffed white bear. The bear is about a yard high and two feet wide, a large and well-fed bear. The well-dressed man sits opposite me and the bear sits on his lap. A few people look up and smile, but neither man nor bear responds.
Above ground at my stop, I search for the cafe where I’m to meet my friend. I’ve lived in my city for over fifty years but I have never been on this little back street, so right away I feel the hyper-alertness of travel mode.
Look! “Greek-American Political Club 1934 – 1984”.
Listen! What language is that couple speaking?
Sniff! What’s that smell coming from the Tibetan restaurant?
On the corner looms a handsome Victorian red brick, three stories, with an amazing ten stringcourses picked out in darker brick, and a slate mansard roof, with an odd arrow-shaped antenna topping it off. Must have been a high-class residence in its heyday. Now it’s got bicycles chained to its iron-work fence.
Hm. “Stringcourse.” That’s a decorative horizontal band that passes all the way around a building, usually made of brick or stone. Well, I thought it was purely decorative, but when I looked it up, I discovered that its presence on churches or other religious buildings can be symbolic of the strength of God surrounding those within. I also learned that even the Pantheon in Rome, built in the 2nd century, has a stringcourse. Travel educates one about the strangest things.
As I walked back home from my lunch and subway trip, an older Black man, hair frosted, moved past briskly in the street; he’s riding one of those Razor scooters, pushing himself along by foot. We catch each other’s eyes. “Hello, how are you today?” he inquires, his warm voice sweet as honey as he rolls past. Life is good. You can see the world you live in—just go look at it.
Comments
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Jim Barre 07:28am, 03/30/2013
Love your “Place” , Hilary! Having lived in NYC for four years, I know how interesting the subway experience can be.