Friday, 08 August 2014
His Turn to be Young
Like yesterday, I need some free time to meet some other obligations. There are all kinds of ways to fill this spot when that happens, posts that don't take much effort.
The easiest: I could leave it blank but that wouldn't be fair to the day's writer at The Elder Storytelling Place. A lot of people use the link at the bottom of the day's TimeGoesBy page to read the story.
Poems related to aging are good and I regularly do that – as in yesterday's post.
Reruns, also known as encores – previous posts that bear repeating – are another but it takes me a lot of time to find one that is suitable.
In the past, I've used musical interludes and will again. In fact, Peter Tibbles who writes Sunday's Elder Music column has supplied me with several I have filed away for that day.
Today, however, I've chosen a delightful, recent story from The New York Times Metropolitan Diary section of the paper that is subtitled Reader Tales From the City – a story that ends with an important verity about old age.
The fair use doctrine of U.S. copyright law generally does not allow reuse of full stories without permission, with or without payment. Even so, because the story is short and linking to it after a sentence or two would interrupt the flow of a well-written piece, I am publishing it in full.
Or, if that bothers you, you could click over now to read “A Cool Pizza Man on a Hot Day” written by Gloria Shimkin at The Times.
“Recently, on a steamy Wednesday, I hopped off the bus from New Hope, Pa., and headed straight for Two Bros. Pizza on 38th for my customary dollar slice.
“My heart went out to the young men behind the counter, working the pizza cutter and the register; and especially to the young hipster manning the pizza oven. While his station was clearly hot as Hades, he was relentless in his efficiency: opening, closing, shoveling, rearranging pie after pie in the blistering heat. Empathetic, but with eyes on the prize, I secured my slice, sat down and enjoyed the scene.
“Suddenly, added to my reverie, a song — and what a song! A reggae/rap/reboot of the early ’60s hit “Sealed With a Kiss”! Delighted by this version of the music of my youth, I soon realized I was the only person in the place old enough to actually remember the original.
“No matter. The oven worker was bustin’ moves as he juggled those searingly hot pies. Clearly, it was now his music, his New York, his turn to be young.”
You can find more reader tales of the city on the main page of the Metropolitan Diary section.
At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Clifford Rothband: Going Out a Winner