[Sometimes I wish this was my life. Quiet, serene, contemplative and domestic. Myself, Mariam and, of course, Lassie. But, I’m not in this photo. It’s not 1949. It’s 2023. Source: Google Search.]

Late morning on this day. It’s November 14 and I had just left my surgeon’s office. He saw my foot, two and a half months after he replaced a joint, he saw my swelling but he couldn’t feel my reluctant pain. Its hanging on and won’t go away, like a bit of dandruff on a jet-black dinner jacket. I was with my wife who helped me from the curb to the street and then back up again. Where did we go? To Starbucks, of course. Where else do you go to stand with your cold brew and try to eat an Impossible Breakfast Sandwich? Where else do you go when you head to the restroom (caffeine is a diuretic), find a keypad, go back to the barista for the code only to be told the code was taped to the door above the keypad. The gods of ancient coffee houses smiled on me. We found a table.

I bit into the plant-based burger and sipped on my cold brew. I’d like to say that I was content…

The music in the store was playing great big band tunes, for about four minutes. Then it switched to something else entirely. The relentless ‘beat’ and the unintelligible song began to make my ears bleed. To say that was mindless, insipid and boring would be kind. None of these songs had human musicians backing them up. The synthesizer beat is relentless and boring enough to crush your mind. I then did what I always do when I’m stressed. I stare out of the large window to 6th Avenue. I looked for relief in the bustling crowd. People watching. A great way to spend lost minutes or missing hours. I was fairly content, until my eyes fell to a cardboard box just outside the window. A man was sitting next to it. I snapped a photo:

[The street from Starbucks. Sixth Avenue. Photo is mine.]

I read the words written with a blunt point Sharpie. No Family/Friends.

Maybe it was the chilly weather. Maybe the barometric pressure. Maybe the headlines and the lead stories on CNN, but my mood went down the toilet I had just peed in. (The one with the useless keypad). I felt a deep pain for the man on the sidewalk. Loneliness is cruel in a city of ten million. It’s cruel in the company of two. The more I looked at the hopeful hands of the man, the more my heart broke.

Where were his friends? Avoiding him? Dead? Moved away to Akron? Where did he go when he went home? Did he have a home? Was anyone there? How does one survive loneliness?

Up and down the river, so many boats do arrive.

But precious few deliver the goods we need to survive.

~~ Maria Muldar “I Never Did Sing You a Love Song”

Now look what I’ve done. I managed to squeeze two blogs into one. Not with intention. I would never shortchange you, my readers.

Both sentiments are bitter.

And both made me sad.

[Note: Pay attention to those who are unhappy. And, listen to music that enriches you, not confuses you.]