‘A Woman on the Platform Said That Her Glasses Had Just Blown Off’

Thank you AK and Freddie for your kind words, and thank you Freddie for including that wonderful 1977 song “Native New Yorker” by Odyssey. I hope you are both enjoying a relaxing and happy weekend. Allen, Native New Yorker.

I took Jerry Keyes’s Diary entry “In the Rain” as the quirky and amusing little New York City happening I believe he considered it to be. In my mind’s eye I see a smile brightening the young woman’s face as she utters the Hollywoodesque cliche and takes Jerry’s arm (he did not use the word grab), and the key to the tone of the entry seems to me to be in the sentence “We laughed and began to talk about the weather.” The brief interlude inevitably ended with a similarly old-movie-evoking line when they arrived on the street where she worked. Of course, circumstances involving such issues as gender, age, the umbrella owner’s personality, feelings regarding privacy, and even history regarding unwanted intrusions into or violations of his or her personal space, could have altered this encounter entirely. Thinking about it I personally would not have dared to approach a man or a woman in such a manner. I also hope and assume that Jerry was carrying a full-size umbrella capable of comfortably shielding two people, as depicted in Agnes Lee’s charming little illustration, rather than one of those folding models that barely keep the rail off oneself. When I first read “In the Rain” it brought to mind the 1966 song by the Hollies entitled “Bus Stop,” and I found myself wondering whether Freddie might provide his own lyrics to this song in a comment.

Ernest Slyman wrote that “The fingers of Isaac Stern speak Yiddish.” Isaac Stern’s marvelous fingers spoke all languages. The wonderful documentary film entitled “From Mao to Mozart: Isaac Stern in China” (1979), revealed the power of music as well as the magical ability of a brilliant teacher to overcome cultural differences and even ideological indoctrination. Every lover of music in New York and all over the world owes an unfathomable debt to Isaac Stern for leading the ultimately successful battle to save Carnegie Hall after, in 1960, plans were announced to tear down this marvelous and acoustically splendid concert hall and replace it with a high rise tower. It is most fitting that the main hall is now named Isaac Stern Auditorium and that a portrait of the late violinist now hangs in the Carnegie Hall he so loved.

Buongiorno a tutti! As regards the delightful diary entry, "Big Striped Straw Hat", this one just screams for photos: a photo of the hat, a photo of the 168th Street station, one of the subway employee reaching for the hat with a claw device, one of Wilma and the two maintenance workers, one of the thank-you orchid and of course one of the hat back on it's rack with the missing chunk. And why not, a photo of the owner of the hat! I think this could be a children's story with enchanting watercolors...

I’m glad Anya Schiffrin got her hat back, but I was far more concerned about the poor lady whose glasses flew off. Speaking as someone who wears them.

It strikes me, sadly, that the "sharing an umbrella" story could be read as an "uninvited proposition" if the person holding the umbrella was a woman and the intrusive "date" was a man. It is a nice story of humans being humans together. I hope we can keep having such moments.

Hats of to the Times for its Metropolitan Diary -- gives us country folk in Vermont an idea of what life in the Big Apple is all about. Maybe the Times ought to publish a Rural Vermont Diary -- last night's evening news warned viewers that early sunsets make spotting moose harder. Good news for us country folk.

New York sometimes seems like a big family. Everyone is this crowded, often chaotic, stimulating, maddening, infinitely interesting, fun circus… That never sleeps. Somehow, everyone is in it together for better or worse. Ya gotta look out for each other. Even love each other. Greatest city.

I still miss Enid Nemy's Metropolitan Diary column. She was the best!

In re: shared umbrellas. When the “Me Too” movement became a thing, I recalled two episodes from my 14th year. One was being groped on an unbelievably crowded flushing-line train, returning from my midtown high school. The train was too crowded for me even to identify the culprit. The other memory was of striding north on Madison Avenue in a downpour. From under a shop’s awning, a sort of junior-executive type called out, “Do you want to rent your umbrella?” I offered to share it for whatever portion of our journeys overlapped and was promptly and persistently propositioned for several blocks in the mid-forties. An uncomfortable experience that I presumed I had somehow invited. It was 1967–and I never forgot it.

The rain story has the fun aura of an old Hollywood movie.

Regarding the Rite Aide story not only were more than one set of eyes watching you ,so were at least 4 CCTV camera's memorializing your event for all time or at least till the videos are erased .

I happened to check back to last week and saw the musician who was the subject of "No Angry Men" by Emily Auran last week had posted there! (Is this a Diary first?) It looks like they've let that Oct. 8 thread be open a bit longer than usual. Now if we could also get Diana Rigg's well-mannered man to write in, but this makes up for that. Here's what Mr. Puglisi wrote: Don Puglisi Manhattan Re "No Angry Men" by Emily Auran I'm the guy Miss Auran was writing about! I am the musician who sang in court. My name is Don Puglisi and it was and honor (your honor ;)) to play that day. Like Emily quoted it was "craziest gig I ever had " -- should we follow up on this? Donu think this story has legs in some other format. Thanks again Emily...you write very well.

To “in the rain”, will it be ended well and printed in the dear diary if a woman had the umbrella and a man grabbed her arm and....? It reminded of a point of a gentleman a neighbor was making one day when we were at the subway. It was crowded and he said : there is a possibility that someone leans on the wrong person’s shoulder, mistaking it as his/her companion’s shoulder. But he said we men don’t care , but it’s a different story if we men got the wrong shoulder!

The haunting music of Mr. Slyman’s poem and “Oops, what’s that round rump doing in the middle of a chamber music recital?” somehow reminds me that things sometimes don’t appear as we think we do. I found on youtube something I was there for in person - the audience at the Moulin Rouge performance I saw in Boston. One thing was I’d thought I was applauding my brains out after the walking-on-air closing megamix (which catapulted us away with genius from the plot’s closing tragedy while actually making us think how easily music can turn us away from depths of sadness, which I think is their point). Moulin Rouge final Boston Colonial Theatre performance 8/19/18 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1TeNJiIeM0 I was by over 20 years the oldest in my row, though a sweet couple about my age was right in front of me and we’d noticed at intermission we were skewing near the very oldest that night,night, except the ushers. Seeing my hands/arms applauding next to the very friendly, glam couple next to me, on the video I see their youthful power and what I’d felt was my top vigor (which I see here and there) looked like next to them. Also in video, Karen Olivo’s looks somehow seem a bit sad! I was not many feet away, and in person, her silent moments with cast-mates looked like “Too bad it's a year to do this again, but can't wait for Bway!” Can’t deny what comments under Youtube say: without seeing the returned looks, she seems sad. So much (IMHO) for video as total proof!

“I will trade you this book instead of purchasing it for a rare hard copy of my own book of photos that you are selling, which I no longer own,” I said. Have now read this several times and still don't understand this transaction. Sounds like: "I will trade you a book I just took down from a shelf for another book in the store." And how does the letter figure into the deal?? Am mystified.

The Keyes umbrella story is so precious because it's happened to so many of us - a story that makes New York City feel like home.

The Strand story— How could MM trade a book he didn’t even own? He states he found the book on the shelves and the letter dropped out. He then takes it to the clerk who agrees to let him have another book he wants. Smells a funny color to me.

Very funny stories on this rainy Monday in Memphis.

I was sitting in my breakfast room reading the NYT and feeling sorry for myself *long story* when I remembered IT'S MONDAY time for the Metropolitan Diary! A couple of clicks later and I'm smiling. Thank You!