New York Times Building

New York Times
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts

NO MORE PAPER

I lie supine on my fold out chair (my Lafuma) as Susan washes vegetables in the kitchen.

I lie in retreat - like a protected child (or) the blind, being read to.

(Ah yes, scrubbing vegetables, cleaning the floor! I can feel that... remember that).

I tap away on an addictive game on my i-phone.

Susan and I audaciously discuss which nationalities we dislike and prefer. We are both lefty liberals. This makes it okay. Its tongue in cheek.

The Chinese are liars. The Italians sexy and dumb. The English funny cross dressers.

The Dutch seem cool but where did they go? The Danes are having a good time.

The Africans. Too hard to talk about.

We discuss the atrocity of slavery in this country and then worldwide.

If African Americans are angry and defiant - so they should be.

As we talk, I distract myself with my iphone game. I insist Susan try the game.

She kneels by my Lafuma chair and capitulates to my request. She's easy to push around. Whatever I want, I get.

I only have so much time.

Susan's game is interrupted. My sister texts. My mother can't speak and is back in ER in CT.

I go back to the game. I am exhausted from trying to process.

I have to assume my mother will be okay because it is all I have room for. If she isn't alright, I will have to punch out more room. I will have to expand.

I change clothes as Susan tidies the kitchen.

We'll go to a movie!

The Paris (on 58th) is easy for me - there are no cavernous hallways to walk through.

As we taxi there, we pass the (new) New York Times building.

"I love that building, I almost considered applying for temp work there because I thought it would be so great to work in that building."

"I still get a subscription to the New York Times" Susan says.

"Me too!"

"It's a luxury I really can't afford."

"I know but, the paper newspaper is on its way out. So while it's still here, it's fun to get. It will disappear soon enough. Digital, it will be all digital."

"I feel sorry for the Times."

"But then they'll have these foldable plastic sheets. Everyone will carry them around, like water bottles. And the news will just show up digitally on these plastic sheets."

"I love that."

_____________

The Paris is lovely (I've decided). The Paris is the antidote the cineplex. The Paris is my favorite New York Movie Theater (now). The Paris is the hard copy newspaper.

I glide down the aisle with my walker. The slight slant downwards propels me.

The movie-screen is big, the theater - old fashioned. We are two of six or seven.

When the movie starts, I fall in love with the glamour of the big screen. The intoxicating soundtrack.

Susan and I both "ooooh" "ahhhhh" at the expansive beauty like we've never been to the movies before.

"I don't go to the movies much " she concedes. "The last time I went, was with you - (Nine - I was on canes then).

"The Last Station" begins and it's just wanted I wanted to see, old fashioned story telling with sweeping scenery, a rising orchestral soundtrack, excellent actors hard at work in period costumes.

I was fascinated by the diaries. Helen Mirren (Mrs. Tolstoy) screamed at people to put their little notebooks away.

Tolstoy was a Luddite. The movie gently compares today's struggle with technology to Tolstoy's time. The phonograph, the silent films, the reporters (paparazzi). New technology destroying the peace.

And I think about our desire and sentiment for the simplicity of the past.

Susan points out all the surfs in the background throughout the movie. The past may have been beautiful, but only for the rich, for the rest, it was probably dismal.

____________________

We taxi home. I spot (one of those) terrible mini grocery-stores -delis with steam tables and tables and chairs in front.

"See that? That is where I have eaten most of my adult life. And you know what? Sometimes I wonder if that is why I am -where I am - right now."

"What?! You don't think you got ALS from a poor diet? "

"No, but eating at places like that couldn't have helped. All I'm saying, and I'm speaking like Jacob Marley to Ebenezer- take care of yourself, eat right, relax. When you live alone, and you're living under stress, there were days or stretches of time when I simply wasn't taking care of myself. So, take care of yourself."

"I'll have to move in with you.... and torture you."

______________________________

When I get to the lobby of my apartment building there are two large flat screen TVs on either side of the lobby desk.

"What are those for?" I ask Petroff.

"We're doing away with paperwork. No more leaving notes on tenants mailboxes. Every note will be posted electronically. And all work orders from tenants will be done with emails. No more paper work. No more paper."

KITCHEN SHELVES

KITCHEN SHELVES
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts

DATE WITH A TUNA MELT

I don't get my full coffee time. My escape into the New York Times is cut short by JD.

JD zooms into my apartment after a morning of yoga in the village.

I'm at the kitchen counter swallowing food.

JD slides his backside down a closet door and sits on his heels. JD, flushed and grinning, is full of young heedlessness.

"I want to see the expression you made when you saw your bed."

(JD made my bed last weekend. He made it taught. I slept on top of the covers. I couldn't get under them. JD wants me to recreate my expression of grateful awe).

"I looked like this" and I make a nonsensical expression of confusion and disgust.

"Sheets and blankets aren't working for me. I need to get a light goose down quilt. Something that I can maneuver easily. Once my legs are under the covers, I'm stuck. I barely move."

"Ikea!" JD says. "They have feather quilts at Ikea! You should talk to Ross (his wife). She's all into the goose-down quilt thing. Ross will point you in the right direction."

The moments of my life leap from the funny to the depressing. You have to have your (face on) when your with me.

________

"Now that I'm here, tell me what to do" JD says.

"Well, I haven't put away the laundry from last week."

_____________________

The day runs away.

There is nothing to be done but accept the help when it's offered. I've become a cheesy opportunist.

"Before you go, can you pick that up? Can you take out the trash? Collect the mugs, the newspapers, the dirty laundry, clean the kitchen, make the bed, pat the cat." - (the cat needs attention).

I sit, tired and achy, and direct JD with the laundry and think...

JD is 15 years older than me. I've counted on that. He looks great. So will I.

I have always had more time than he did. He's been good for advice. Now, I don't know who or where I am (in life) when I am with JD.

This is true also with my friend Nat. Nat and I did summer stock together.

Nat is ten years older than me. Nat until recently had a nasty smoking habit.

I've often thought, "poor Nat and his terrible smoking, what will become of him."

Earlier in the morning I called him.

The bowels of the Sunday Times fell apart all over my front hallway. I didn't want to slip on them.

"I need you for five minutes".

Nat arrives moments later and we chat. Me- unshaven, greasy hair - skinny and bare on my new Ikea bar stool. Nat thick and vibrant and full of small news.

The plays he will see this week. The auditions coming up. News about the Playhouse where we both worked.

_______________

My apartment complex is my whole world.

The familiar voice of Bruce across the hall -(producing his first Broadway play).

Young Lisa (who told me she was nearly diagnosed with MS - "they had it wrong, thank go-d" -and her miniature dog Pogie.

The South American couple next door. (They do cancer research and told me they would look into research for my disease - we never spoke about it again - sadly, there is nothing substantial to report and they don't want to tell me what I already know). They have a new baby!

And of course Spiro my doorman, who always thanks ME when I hand him my walker or ask for help.

The life guard Lewis, handsome, kind and dim. He lives with his grandmother in East Harlem. Lewis helps me out of the pool.

My world is this building.

___________________

I sit with Nat and my coffee. We speak like actors on our fifteen minute break.

Nat tells me he saw the Miller play last night, "A View from the Bridge".

"Oh, I want to see that!!"

"Leiv Schreiber is great... and Scarlet Johanson was very good!"

I tell Nat my Scarlett Johanson story.

"I call Scarlett Johanson, "Date With A Tuna-melt" because, years ago, I waited to see her speak at a talk-back for "Girl with a Pearl Earring". The theatre was packed waiting for her arrival. We all waited a half hour. She got to the mic, spoke for five minutes and then she said,

'Sorry, gotta go, I've got a date with a tuna melt." So I call her, Date with a Tuna-melt".

Nat finds this hilarious. He says he'll have to tell this one to his wife.

He leaves. I sip my coffee for a minute, and then JD arrives. I don't get my full coffee time.

LISTS

Mattie

I did the home kit chelation foot bath tonight. Half a cup for 20 minutes. I guess I can do every day?

I'm eating, eating, eating. ------ I'm still frustrated with my supplement plan. I realized I should be taking creatine away from fruit juice. And I'm taking 800 mgs. Most people are taking 5 GRAMS! So... it hasn't been doing me any good. _____________ I need to start letter writing to get on lists for stem cell. There is so much to do. If I am going to fight. - Charlie