‘At 5 P.M., a Woman in a Mechanized Wheelchair Is Loading a Dryer’

I still think of the story of 5yr old Abcde from last year mocked by 'adult' airline agents after passing thru the boarding gate - I wonder what she is doing now? how her mother is faring with her life@age 6?

"Southbound" saved the day. Otherwise, meh!

The laundromat story made me a little teary. Kindness upon kindness.

Mr. Craft, if you're looking for company, I would love to Strand with you, albeit in my imagination, for nowhere in this mildewed prairie is there -- or ever will be -- anything like the aromatic mustiness of the old tomes found in that funky downtown New York institution you so poetically describe. Do we have a date?

One of my favorite diaries of all time. So poetic. Ani's is my favorite for this week. But Lou, you've outdone yourself. FANTASTIC poem.

My oldest daughter has moved to New York, and with her, my heart. I love reading these and feeling a part of the City, a part of her.

This week's column is the best in soooo long! NYC magic - the people's and the City's rhyme and rhythm in simple gorgeous poetry and prose. People caring for each other; some frail, others strong beyond any physical impediment. I'm a 5th generation New Yorker; knowing my home is 115th St & Riverside Dr no matter where we live.

Loved the "bus to Miami" story

In regard to Southbound, when was the time New Yorkers, especially jews, started to head to Miami more or less en mass after the age of 65 or so? When did it stop? Where do people from New York go now? Everywhere, especially if it is warm there in winters here?

Some of the best I've seen in this column. I'd say breathtaking.

Mitchell Jacobs, I have written this before. I like taking the bus because of the drivers who think they are stand up /sit down comics. Must have made your day!

I was riding the Hudson line to our upstate house in Beacon, NY. I had my two teeny white dogs - a Maltese and a Bichon/Shitzu - with me, and not in carriers. They were experienced train riders and slept quietly on the Northbound train every weekend. No conductor had ever complained, as they were so well-behaved. This time, though, I was riding at rush hour at night. There was only one seat available, next to a VERY elegant, middle-aged man decked out in a gorgeous suit. He had a fine briefcase and well polished, expensive shoes. I said, “I’m so sorry. There are no other seats. Do you mind if I sit here? I’ll keep both dogs in my lap.” “I don’t mind in the least,” he said. So, I sat there with the two dogs crowded on my lap. After a while, I got out my book and got absorbed. Suddenly, I realized that my dog, Daniel, had moved off my lap some. Looking down, I saw that he had stretched out and was sleeping with his head in the man’s lap. “Oh, good grief, I am SO sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” I said. “Please don’t move him,” the sweet man said. “This has been the best part of my day!”

Lou Craft’s poem and Mitchell Jacob’s bus driver story remind me of the Diary of old - smart, snappy and hilarious. More, please!

I was once a frequent denizen of the Strand. Many factors drew me away. The one that sticks out is a copy of the Collected Works of Hart Crane that was published while he was still alive. It was pricey, so I had to save up for it, all the while hoping that no one would snatch it off the Strand's ample shelves. When at last it was mine, I took it to all the places Hart wrote about, reading quietly out loud his poems about the subways while actually riding the subway, for example. Unfortunately, this was not good for the volume's frayed burgundy cover or it's yellowed pages. Now it rests forlorn on my bookshelf. I dare not touch it, lest it disintegrate. These days, I stick to electronic texts. I'm an unworthy custodian for the Stand's treasures.

Finding pearls inside every oyster, Finding all of the parts of ourselves. That's kind of how I feel reading these diary entries... kind thanks, csa

The poem about the Strand is glorious. My feelings exactly.

Love it - the most human picture of NYC I've seen in awhile. It reminds me of Armistead Maupin's "Tales of the City" .

These fell flat with me. Editing please.

I lived in NYC on-and-off for about 7 years . . . .the Metropolitan Diary stories transport me in an instant. As much as I love the NYTimes, this has become my favourite, because there's only one place on earth to find authentic New Yorkers!

These were heartwarming and lovely entries, along with the illo's as well... love, loved Lou Craft's poem about the Strand!! Thank you 💛

Metropolitan Diary makes the quantum leap into Metropolitan Poetry. If there's an internet in the afterlife, this feature would be reason enough to subscribe. The "Southbound" entry reminded me of the Twilight Zone episode "A Stop at Willoughby". As a nine-year-old kid who was just allowed to ride the subway to Manhattan on his own -- helicopters had nothing to do with parenting back then -- I was thrilled to find that the opposite exit on the DeKalb Avenue Station in Brooklyn was to … Willoughby Street.

A number of us original East Coasters oft contemplate returning, and are always asked why. Really, the only rationale is captured always in this column.

Bus to Miami?! very funny. I'm a senior citizen runner and was "running" uphill in my neighborhood, when a school bus stopped just next to me and opened the door as if it were inviting me in. I laughed and continued on.

I enjoyed Lou Craft’s poem (chuckled at, “And I don’t want to browse smelling quiche”), but he didn’t name enough women writers!

Thank you! This is wonderful. I was born in New York City, and left when I was 7. It seems the only authentic place left to me, perhaps. Thank you.

Oh God, the Strand! What memories! I used to live in the East Village as a youngster and it was where I spent my weekends, looking for used text books for my college classes and where I tried to sell them back at the end of the school year. Also the 3 for $1 racks (money used to go far!) of paperbacks and their treasure trove of hard-cover fine arts books. I still go there on my annual visits to New York - always find something thrilling and unexpected, like a treasure hunt.

The poem by Lou Craft is wonderful. So well informed, clever, humorous, beautifully written.

Cloister...oyster. It took some real wordsmithing to set that one up. Thanks, Lou.

Lou Craft's poem is really special. It lilts; it sweeps you along; it takes you into the physical world of books. What better way is there to spend a morning, a day, a lifetime? Many Saturdays when I was a child, my father would take my brother and me to a used bookstore in Springfield, MA. I still have many of the books that I bought, but far more important is that love, which I have to this day, of the feel and smell of books, of the excitement of opening one randomly and being immediately drawn in … or not. The 'or nots' remained on the shelves, but even they were part of the experience. There is nothing quite like a bookstore!

I miss this city with an ache. There is no place like it, yet every place is like it, if you really want to see it. It's the people.

Three of Agnes Lee’s charming drawings this week took my thoughts, interestingly enough, to J. D. Salinger’s classic “The Catcher in the Rye.” The two women curled up asleep on the train—although I wondered Kendall Bates whether you had dreamed up the young woman who took the seat beside you and perhaps the entire episode before you yourself awoke—brought to mind the memory of Holden Caulfield aspiring to protect everybody in his keep and insure their safety. This is also the way I thought about Lou Craft when I saw that in Ms. Lee’s sketch the reader is utterly lost in thought in the Strand Bookstore in a situation fraught with peril. Gazing intently at the book held in the left hand while also listing dangerously off in that direction, unaware that the top two books held by the right hand which have slipped off the stack of nine and are heading directly for the reader’s head. I want to shout “WATCH OUT LOU” and race over and snag those two books before they can conk you on the head. Stay safe Lou, and thanks to you and Ani, Kendall, Juliana, Mitchell, and the always wonderful Agnes Lee for today’s transporting Metropolitan Diary.

I'm trying to think of some words or short sentences for today’s Diary entries. Number 1: “Gentleness,” “kindness,” and “compassion” could describe the interactions in and around the corner laundry. Number 2: “Two punctuation marks in search of a sentence” might do for the two people on the subway. Maybe?? Or maybe not!! Number 3: “Always make time for reading” as we waltz down to the Strand with Lou Craft. Number 4: “The Land of Nod” is what we have on the train bound for Port Washington. Number 5: How about “wisecracker” or “jokester” for the southbound bus driver? Dean Jan. 19, 2020

Dear Lou Craft, will we find more of your writings at the Strand? I do hope so. With best regards, a former Brentano's employee.

A very sweet column today & I like it ending with a joke "bus to Miami" indeed...

While I was sitting on a bus bench (when I was a college student in the 1970s), waiting for my bus, someone passing me on the sidewalk asked whether I was waiting for the bus. "What a ridiculous question," I thought to myself. "Of course, I am; why else would I be sitting here on the bus bench?" The passerby informed me that there was a student riot on my university campus, and that the busses along that street were taking an alternate route to avoid the rioters and police near the campus. So, I walked toward and across the campus toward my home, missing the turmoil, which had subsided. Thank you, Dear Passerby, for informing me; otherwise, who knows how long I would have sat on that bus bench!

Waltzing Down to the Strand is a great accompaniment to the Book That Changed My Life article and its comment section that was in the Times last week.

Dear Juliana, Your Diary entry provided just what I was hoping for this morning—a story of people exchanging smiles, looking out for one another, graciously providing small kindnesses complete with the words “please” and “thank you,” and you yourself holding a door open for others. You wrote of a card gratefully extended as a gift, but the real gifts in your story are the good natured and gentle acts themselves. You close your entry with two thank yous. May I add a third and thank you, so much, for providing a lovely and gentle tableau of New Yorkers exemplifying a spirit of civic good will in the most simple words and gestures. Stay well Juliana. Allen

Every one of these stories made me smile. Thank you.

This collection is a keeper. Thank you.

There are a number of wonderful habits of Americans, which have almost become customs. One of them is keeping the door open for others, doesn’t matter whether it’s a car door, entrance door or an exit door of a laundromat, which rest of the world needs to implement especially by us Indians. I thank Juliana Francis Kelly exclusively for this gesture. By the way she has written the story Corner Laundry sweetly too. It’s very nice of a woman employee in the story Corner Laundry to have helped the kid in inserting the laundry card and in selecting the requisite temperature so that washing gets done smoothly since the kid has accompanied a lady in a wheel chair. I found all employees of the Laundromats very cooperative and friendly when we were in America, which is a huge plus point. I thank all the Americans wholeheartedly, who have helped me in some way or the other. I love the poem Waltzing Down to the Strand, which is beautifully written by Lou Craft. I agree fully with the writer that online procurement of books is no thrill but going through countless books physically is the one to experience. The story On the Aisle has made me recollect amusing story of my eldest maternal uncle, who most of the time used to wake up at a wrong Railway Station far away from his destination while travelling. However in this story Kendall Bates is kind enough to wake up the lady in time as per her request.

I loved the poem about the Strand. Oh, to be stranded in the Strand With some many thoughts about! I find a mysterious Penny- I'm A Better Man for it. Now I've an incentive To leave for a coffee shop With a plump chair, a bagel, and a book. No longer stranded. Still I'm hooked.