It’s been raining since last night. At times there’s been thunder and lightening but it’s cold and my building either has too much heat or no heat. It’s the later tonight. I had a 10:30 dentist appointment, and left for it at 9:45. Most people wouldn’t have even bothered trying to get a cab but would have taken a crosstown bus and another going down Fifth. But would I? No. I think I’m made of money and always rationalize that since I would have walked if the weather had been nice…
It took fifteen minutes to get a cab; my building entrance is off Riverside Drive, and cabs are on West End, so having a doorman does absolutely no good in a rain/cab situation.
Got in the cab and for some reason looked for my wallet. I had left it home. The fare was $6.50 and I found $6.82, I gave him $6.80 and apologized for the 30 cent tip.
The cab driver could have come from infinite ethnic groups, had a familiar but not instantly placeable accent, and his name had been Americanized which I found strange.
“What did you do that for?”
“Too little money.”
Usually I overtip for karma but I just didn’t have it. The dentists office suite is in a large building my sister and I cleverly call “the dentists building,” because there are so many dentists. It’s on Fifth and 61st; just two blocks from my old apartment, and many people still call it “the new building,” though it was built 20something years ago.
I held up one of the quarters he had thrown:
“I gave you $2.75 in quarters plus four singles.”
“No. My money.”
“No. That was my laundry money.”
Laundry money is sacred. People who don’t have washer dryers, don’t have washer dryers in their building that accepts a card, or send their laundry out collect quarters. It hurt when I counted the quarters and gave it to him. And I’m the person who always figures out the check.
He tried locking me in the cab. I waved to a doorman who came over, and the cab driver had to let me out. Now I didn’t have any money to tip the doorman. All the money I have spent on Karma this past year was gone in two minutes.
Never have a checkbook with me, but I was going to deposit a check and had brought it with me instead of my wallet; the onset of dementia, I know.
Though I’m naturally too fast, I slow myself down to do things extra carefully; otherwise I make truly stupid mistakes. I gave my dentist a check for $20, and was able to get home.
The dentist appointment was virtually pain free; I walked down to Barneys and got a cab immediately. Had been planning to go to Barneys but without credit cards or a bank card…or any ID to show with my check, the safest and only place for me to be was home.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving; don’t give up all your hard spent Karma.
The heat is coming on, and there are so many things and people that I’m thankful for.
I’m thankful that I have seen the blowing of the balloons for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade so many times I don’t even have to feign interest in going out in a nor’easter.
My sister’s birthday will be on Thanksgiving this year. I’m thankful for that Thanksgiving weekend so many, uh just a few short decades ago when my sister was born.
I’m thankful for many other things also. You get the gist. Don’t want to go into a political rant; do enough of them elsewhere.
But I’m thankful that to most Americans dissent doesn’t equal disloyalty.
On Thanksgiving I will listen to the Thanksgiving song: “Alice’s Restaurant,” and think about how it was my father’s favorite song. We lived on Long Island, and our community was Democratic then. We even had a great Congressman Lester Wolf, a consummate Jew, who once disguised himself as an IRA member when in Ireland during the height of the troubles. Don’t ask; I don’t remember exactly what he was doing. But our district was gerrymandered and he lost his job.
My dad supported the war in Viet Nam; I found it ironic how much he loved “Alice’s Restaurant,” until I realized that my father might have supported the war but he liked the people who didn’t support it better. Frankly I never knew a person except my father who did support that war.
He was similar to a professional Archie Bunker with class and I was his Meathead. What would you rather I have been Sally Struthers? And forgive me somebody for all the Sally Struthers jokes that I have told over the years. But I can think of five new ones right now without thinking. Forgive me for that also.
End of politics. I am so thankful for all the people I have met this year; for this adventure in self discovery that my blog enabled me to undertake in more ways than just writing, many more ways. Most of all, at this particular moment, I am thankful to The Long Island Press
But mostly I’m thankful that in a life filled with guilt, as I have the Judith Miller gene combo, I have never ever felt that sex outside of marriage is a bad thing or something to feel guilty about. Do I really have to add that I don’t think sex with somebody who is married and not to you isn’t such a wonderful thing or something that I would feel comfortable doing now?