There’s an older man I’ve befriended who sits in the Park….
aristocratic in bearing…gray flannels and navy blazer over a seasoned Shetland sweater offsetting the Wall Street Journal he reads.
I’m particularly taken with his yellow, cashmere socks peeking from his well polished, cordovan loafers.
The other draw…he lives in Jackie Kennedy’s old building.
He told me he knew her as a pleasant neighbor, nothing more, but always admired her poise whenever they met in the elevator.
When he said I reminded him of her, I preened like a tulip during a sudden sun shower.
One day he asked me..
.what there was to know about me, a question that took me a aback since, I find myself far from fascinating. After wiggling out of the survey, once I got home, decided to answer his question on the page.
Well, I prefer morning to night, rising like a rook from a treetop, at my best, first light.
My idea of luxury is reading for an hour after I come in from running, basking in the quiet.
Coffee is my drug of choice, blueberries and bananas, bobbing in oatmeal, my breakfast of champions.
I don’t eat meat, only fish, and enough of it to earn gills.
Rather than limit myself to Black Lives Matter, I feel All Lives Matter, including dogs and cats, raccoons and squirrels, even that uninvited bear approaching your picnic table.
Service to others feels more a privilege than a must, believing, receiving is in the giving, the recipient, only coming along for the ride.
Easy to please, happy with little, believing less is more.
Casablanca, my all time favorite film. Chinatown, The Godfather, Love in the Afternoon, The Philadelphia Story, The Sting, and Yankee Doodle Dandy, its next of kin.
Pride & Prejudice, The Killer Angels and A Movable Feast, my three favorite books.
I love New York more than any other place, a fish out of water whenever I leave.
My friendships are few these days, disciples disappearing either from death or random desertion, accepting it as the norm when you’re in the final leg of your own tour.
Mustn’t forget my sense of humor keeping me afloat like a tender ship leading me into port.
As for love, I find myself thinking a lot of past partners who swore they’d never leave, grateful to have saved letters I can gently reread, careful of their brittle pages and paper thin promises.
Oh yeah, Snickers are my favorite candy bar I keep in the fridge, just like my dad did, though unlike him, don’t need to hide them behind the ice trays for fear someone might swipe them.
SB, as her sun sets.
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