Category: The See-Saw Of Life

Philadelphia is a welcoming city. And moving there last week was a fun, harrowing and hilarious experience. Toshi, my son-in-law, took an early morning train from Manhattan to a town along the Hudson River to pick up a U-Haul truck and help with the move. He said it was a great ride along the River. I had a few good people helping me. Actually, good isn’t an adequate word, they were clever and came with a sense of humor – much needed qualities when moving without professionals. Professionals couldn’t be used on this trip as there were stops to be made and dates to work around.

Someone who swore up and down that he’d be around to help load never showed. Somehow deep down I sensed that would happen. However, I think it’s good to trust. And, happily, it was for the best because, Toshi, being who he is – always resourceful – found a big, well-muscled fellow working in a nearby shop who was more than eager to help out and make some money. He and Toshi gave it their all and the truck was set to go with everything loaded in it in no time at all. Good call Toshi.

On we rode to the Catskills for additional furnishings, and to meet my cousin Pauline who came from NH to drive a U-Haul to Philly. She’s a brave one. There she waited at the town’s U-Haul office for a tow dolly for her car, while at the country house Toshi and the former country store owner wrestled with a beautiful hefty bed trying to load it onto the U-Haul truck. The former country store owner has a name, but he continues to be called, when he’s not within earshot, the former country store owner. All right! The bed is secured and we’re off to meet Pauline. There’s no phone signal at the country house, and we’ve no way of knowing that Pauline has called three times as she sat watching the friendly, new owners of the U-Haul company trying to get their computer in operation. After they’d entered all of her information, their computer went down. By the time we arrived, they were asking anyone in sight for help in restoring it. There was nothing to do but wait since we needed the tow dolly, and it wasn’t forthcoming until the problem with the computer was solved.

In the meantime, we learned a lot about happenings in Puerto Rico and the Colombia drug cartel from people wandering in and out of the office. And we learned that four months ago someone exchanged the hustle and bustle of owning a restaurant in Manhattan for the ease and enjoyment of owning a restaurant in this little town. Word of mouth (the best kind of advertisement) is sending customers his way. So off we went across the street to the word-of-mouth place. Toshi had heard the reviews and was already there for a quick bite before going off in another direction having somehow materialized a ride for that appointment. It’s amazing how things get accomplished out of sheer necessity. There are always possibilities one never imagines until necessity chimes in.

When we returned to the U-Haul office, the two friendly, new owners were under their large desk still working on their computer. From our end it looked as if they were getting nowhere fast. Only thing to remember about this situation is that it won’t last forever. Nothing ever does. Right?

People are looking at my present rental apartment at all hours of the day. I’m moving and I try to be in the apartment because, as strange as this seems, some realtors don’t always lock the door when they leave. I’m sure they’re not trying to be mischevious; simply put, they are, at times, preoccupied and feeling stressed.

I’m learning that those who ask the most questions and seem the most interested are not the ones who will eventually occupy the apartment. From my experiences in Manhattan, I understand that many people see viewing apartments as entertainment. I guess that’s okay as long as both sides are aware of this.

Some potential renters who ask a lot of questions seem also to be piecing their lives together and are in some sort of transition. You can always tell when this is so-they stray from questions about the apartment to questions about their work, or the town they want to live in, or where they’ve been.

When some people come into my apartment their eyes light up. Okay, let me explain-it’s not because it’s sumptuous in any way; it’s uncluttered-I’m a minimalist-they can breathe, there’s space to think and I try for things that soothe and are beautiful.

I have a feeling about people and places, and this feeling says that there’s a right person, for whatever reason, who is suppose to live in a certain place, and when that person shows up, no more waiting; it’s easily rented, smoothly sold. Done. Until that time, it’s a waiting game. See it as that.

“I don’t want to hurry it, that itself is a twentieth century attitude. When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it and want to get on with other things.” -Robert M. Pirsing, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

“Dare yourself to play games with your day; watch, wait, listen; allow things to happen.” -Rolf Potts

“you succeed by harmonizing yourself with forces that are more powerful than you are, rather than by trying to force them to your will.” -Tom O’Reilly, Knowing When to Let Go

“In the universe there is an unmeasurable force which shamans call intent, and absolutely everything that exists in the entire cosmos is attached to intent by a connecting link.” -Carlos Castaneda

It was on a Friday of this month that my aunt Irene, my sister Anna and I went to the Tanger Outlet Center in Tilton, NH. Before wending our way to the stores we stopped at Uno Chicago Grill. The takeout menu says that this restaurant is a registered trademark of Pizzeria Uno Corporation.

I always thought that when you enter a restaurant and you’re not acknowledged within the first five minutes, esp. when you’re in sight of three employees, the smart thing to do is turn around and leave. We didn’t, but we should have. We waited and waited while two employees stood nearby-talking. Not wanting to upset my aunt, I said nothing. I think Anna felt the same way. FINALLY we were told there’s a table for us. On the walk to the table were a number of empty places. We sit; we wait. Ten minutes pass. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and say that perhaps when we walked into the restaurant we became invisible and now can be seen only intermittently. Well, what else could it be? FINALLY I see someone coming toward our table. “Do we want water?” she asks. Quickly we respond, “Yes, thank you. We do. With lemon please.” Hoping that the pattern has been broken.

Do you believe that it took a very long time to bring the water? I wanted to get up to check things out, but then there was the matter of my aunt. She’s sweet, she’s loving, she enjoys life and chatting, and she seemed comfortable. The water came minus the lemons. Forty minutes have gone by and we’re no where near giving our order.

I’d like to tell you that as time went on the service pepped up. However, when the entrees FINALLY arrived and this ‘n that was missing, we had to say something. So we complained a wee bit. Nothing dramatic as we didn’t want to upset my aunt. We later learned that she’d been wise to all this, but was too polite to say so. It’s quite interesting to have to write that there was no response forthcoming from the waitress when we complained. I assumed it was the manager who brought our salads and heard the conversation with the waitress. Yet, he said nothing either. A little communication from anyone in a position to give an explanation would have gone a long way.

Now this is the surprise. When it was time for the check the waitress informed us that the bill was on the restaurant, and, “Do we want dessert?” The thing is you’re much too late, Uno Chicago Grill. We three rarely get together as such, and would happily have paid the bill for a more pleasant experience. And about that dessert, “No, thank you.” we said. After all, the stores will close in five hours, we haven’t time to wait for dessert.

Whew! What a pleasure it was to be on our way. Some days you just walk into the. . . .

This past weekend was a strange one. Emi visited armed with window alarms because on Friday someone managed to climb onto the low roof which is flush with my apartment, and tried to enter my kitchen window. It happened this way: I heard a noise in the kitchen and then saw the shadow of someone’s raised arms fiddling with the kitchen window. He was noisy; I was noisy. He fled fast. Not long after that I saw someone from another window looking my way. He ran from the roof with great gusto when he saw me. Then, while sitting in front of my computer, I casually looked out of the window facing me and saw someone standing about four yards away looking terribly confused. I didn’t think much about it then, just that perhaps he was a worker waiting for someone. Had I been more in tune, the confused state he was in would have said otherwise. And never is there anyone on that roof. After checking at the realty office in the next building to inquire whether anything strange was happening in their space, I called the police. A police car came and the officer reassured me that they’d keep an eye on things this weekend. In the meantime, Emi installed the window alarms on Friday, and on Saturday we bought more.

Then came Sunday. As we walked along the street returning from the market we couldn’t help noticing two fire trucks, three police cars and an ambulance parked across the street from where I live. At that point, we couldn’t see my building. People were gathered outside wondering and waiting. We wondered also, and walking round the corner, saw that the building was intact. I took my key and we entered. Two officers, one female one male, were descending the stairs. I asked what happened. They looked sweaty, serious, and in no mood to answer questions. They said it was a private matter. Hmm!

Not knowing what was happening, we waited. When everything was calm, and everyone left, we knocked on the door of the apartment in question. After quite a bit of knocking, a woman answered. We were still under the impression that they’d want to know about Friday’s intruder as we still thought there was a connection between then and now. But as it turned out, the situation was entirely different. As the police said, it was a private matter. The woman was nice, but too distraught to have a conversation. It seems a cousin rents the apartment and the woman’s son was visiting and had a nervous breakdown. He wouldn’t allow anyone to approach him-not his mother, not the police. The kindest thing we could do was to give the mother some privacy. We quietly left.

Sometimes there’s a swirl of activity all around us. It doesn’t mean we’re necessarily a part of it. Perhaps on those occasions, we’re meant to observe, nothing more. That’s the way I feel about this past weekend. Thinking too deeply about it would deplete precious energy.