I’ve never been much of a joiner. This isn’t any sort of judgment on people who are, though I always suspected the kids in high school who joined the Key Club and did lots of charity of work of doing it so they could get into a good college. I remember once during my junior year, a guy who had been involved in gang warfare and drug dealing in South Central Los Angeles came to speak at my high school. He was paralyzed from the waist down, after having been shot in a drive-by shooting. I guess the moral was to not deal drugs or get involved with the Crips or the Bloods, although why they thought that was relevant to a bunch of middle-class Jewish kids kind of sailed over my head. Maybe they were worried we’d start slipping up and only go to state schools or something.
Afterward, my English teacher asked me if I’d learned anything from the assembly. I told him I now understood the value of ducking. He said he was glad I’d gotten the point.
I’ve never been a fan of team sports, either. While growing up, I played tennis. This was because you only had to worry about one idiot screwing up instead of a whole team. Although if I’m to be honest, I only played because my grandparents made me.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit down on New York, as any reader of this weekly update knows. In fact, my first reaction to that Village Voice blog post 50 Reasons to Be Pretty Damn Euphoric You Live in New York City that everybody’s been posting on Facebook was that it was either written by a twelve-year old boy who’s never set foot in New York before or by somebody who just moved here last week. The author cites things like Chick Fil-A and the preponderance of bars in the East Village as things to love about the city. Clearly, she and I have different ideas about what makes this city great.
But every once in a while, something happens that makes you realize how wonderful New York can be, and how the collective spirit of people from around the world who’ve come to the same place because they want to excel at something, anything, a gazillion different things can truly be wonderful. For once I’m not being sarcastic, but completely genuine. I went to Central Park yesterday to cheer on the New York Marathon runners, and was delighted by the breadth of humanity who was there. I stood next to some guys from Ulster who went nuts with joy anytime somebody from Ireland ran by. I was near a woman who yelled herself hoarse as she called out the names of the passing runners and encouraged them to make it to the finish line, which was just over a mile away. A mentally challenged young boy was wheeled along in a kind of chariot by two runners who I assume were his parents as he clapped and cheered, and the spectators joined in his happiness as he passed by. If you ever need to be cheered up, just go watch people from around the world run great distances while people from around the world cheer them on. It’s a fantastic way to spend a day.
I’ll do my best to find something to gripe about next week.
***********
In this week’s episode of the podcast, we discuss a recent trip we took to a magical little place in Brooklyn called Mile End. You can stream the show here and at SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.
As always, we ask that you please spread the word amongst your friends, co-workers, lovers, taxi drivers, cute girls who work the cash register at your local bodega who get annoyed every time you try to buy a pack of gum and a Diet Coke with a credit card and anybody else you can think of.
Afterward, my English teacher asked me if I’d learned anything from the assembly. I told him I now understood the value of ducking. He said he was glad I’d gotten the point.
I’ve never been a fan of team sports, either. While growing up, I played tennis. This was because you only had to worry about one idiot screwing up instead of a whole team. Although if I’m to be honest, I only played because my grandparents made me.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit down on New York, as any reader of this weekly update knows. In fact, my first reaction to that Village Voice blog post 50 Reasons to Be Pretty Damn Euphoric You Live in New York City that everybody’s been posting on Facebook was that it was either written by a twelve-year old boy who’s never set foot in New York before or by somebody who just moved here last week. The author cites things like Chick Fil-A and the preponderance of bars in the East Village as things to love about the city. Clearly, she and I have different ideas about what makes this city great.
But every once in a while, something happens that makes you realize how wonderful New York can be, and how the collective spirit of people from around the world who’ve come to the same place because they want to excel at something, anything, a gazillion different things can truly be wonderful. For once I’m not being sarcastic, but completely genuine. I went to Central Park yesterday to cheer on the New York Marathon runners, and was delighted by the breadth of humanity who was there. I stood next to some guys from Ulster who went nuts with joy anytime somebody from Ireland ran by. I was near a woman who yelled herself hoarse as she called out the names of the passing runners and encouraged them to make it to the finish line, which was just over a mile away. A mentally challenged young boy was wheeled along in a kind of chariot by two runners who I assume were his parents as he clapped and cheered, and the spectators joined in his happiness as he passed by. If you ever need to be cheered up, just go watch people from around the world run great distances while people from around the world cheer them on. It’s a fantastic way to spend a day.
I’ll do my best to find something to gripe about next week.
***********
In this week’s episode of the podcast, we discuss a recent trip we took to a magical little place in Brooklyn called Mile End. You can stream the show here and at SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes.
As always, we ask that you please spread the word amongst your friends, co-workers, lovers, taxi drivers, cute girls who work the cash register at your local bodega who get annoyed every time you try to buy a pack of gum and a Diet Coke with a credit card and anybody else you can think of.
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