NEWLY-PLANNED: Sunday, September 27 – On Friday evening, after I called my wife, my daughter called me to ask what I was thinking about regarding the suitcase retrieval. I had left it on the bus from Syracuse to NYC when I got off in Binghamton.
I thought that there should be a way to send the luggage up by bus, but this would mean more work for Andrea. So I decided I should take a bus to New York City.
My wife and daughter had been in NYC Wednesday through Friday, having seen School Girls or, the African Mean Girls Play (which they loved) and Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) (great acting, but plot holes).
So, my daughter offered to come to NYC (drive to Poughkeepsie, Metro-North train to Grand Central Station) on Sunday. Wonderful. There was only one potential downside: a Nor’easter was racing up the coast. So, it’s settled; the plan is on.
The point of it all, apparently
On Saturday, I had called my father’s first cousin Ruth, who witnessed firsthand my father coming up my name shortly after I was born. She offered to pick me up Sunday morning and take me to the bus station.
As she and one of her daughters had picked me up quite early, we talked about family lore, about Raymond Cone, and the resilience of my paternal grandmother Agatha, Ruth watching Leslie and me when we were little, and my father’s amazing creativity, coupled with his utter lack of fiscal restraint.
REALIZATION: Suddenly, I realized why I needed to be in Binghamton the weekend of my dad’s 100th birthday: to share Les stories with people he’s related to.
But what about not seeing 5 Gaines Street (42.107838 latitude, -75.915621 longitude), the house I grew up in that’s now for sale? I had friend Cee and spouse keep the 12:30 pm appointment and share the intel with sister Leslie and me. (Thanks!) I’m not saying either of us would move there, but it is an intriguing concept. Especially for my sister, since the housing costs are so much greater in SoCal.
It’s too bad I didn’t get to go to church at Trinity A.M.E. Zion, the church I grew up in, but I got to ride by it a couple of times; it’s less than two blocks from 5 Gaines. When I went by there on Friday night, a bunch of kids from the church were playing on the lawn, which I found oddly comforting.
Big Apple
NEW PLAN: The bus station in Binghamton does NOT announce or display arrivals or departures. So at 7:45, I went out to look for my 7:55; yup, it was just about to board. I said my goodbyes and got onto a Trailways bus to the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan, which, not incidentally, was MUCH more comfortable than those Flix buses I rode to Syracuse and Binghamton. It rained intermittently on the trip, but it wasn’t bad.
Around the same time, my daughter was driving from Albany to Poughkeepsie. It turns out that, because of the counterclockwise winds, the rain from the Nor’easter was worse on the trip down than on the return trip, especially around Woodstock and Kingston. She almost stopped for a time but persevered, reaching Poughkeepsie and taking the Metro-North to Grand Central.
My sense of direction was all out of whack, and I couldn’t figure out how to reach Grand Central. Some official sent me to Penn Station on the 7 subway, but my daughter directed me back.
Suddenly, I wandered to an S shuttle that took me to Grand Central, and my daughter found me. We took the Metro-North. My daughter has quickly become an expert. We needed to take the New Haven line, but really the Stamford subsidiary line to Westchester County.
The ‘burbs
While we waited for Andrea and my suitcase, we overheard a couple of friends who had met at the train stop. She was a trained dancer hired by a rich Manhattanite to perform at the wealthy lady’s two-year-old’s birthday party. But there were so many other people and stuff that there was no room to dance. The hired Santa assured her that it was a weird, albeit well-paid, gig. The friends realized we had been eavesdropping on their conversation – they were only about ten feet away – when I couldn’t stifle a laugh. They were cool about it.
Finally, Andrea figured out where we were and got me the suitcase. She suggested I be more mindful; noted. My daughter gave her the wine and chocolate she had bought on my behalf.
We ate at the station, took the line back to Harlem, then took the Hudson line back to Poughkeepsie. My daughter drove us back to Albany. We arrived at 6:40, less than 20 minutes later than I would have if I had taken the bus back to Syracuse, then Albany; oh, yeah, that bus was canceled. How WOULD I have gotten home?
I was exhausted, but still wired. After my wife and daughter went to bed, I noticed I had recorded Sunday Night Football, the match betwen the Los Angeles Rams and the Denver Broncos. About halfway through the first quarter, I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up for the last three minutes, which I watched. It was a great ending to an interesting weekend.