Note to the Loud Lawyer on the 2:46 from Chappaqua

Dear Mr. Loud Lawyer,

I was reading and enjoying my book on my ipod when you boarded. It had been quiet. The guy next to me was sleeping. Nobody was talking on their cellphones. In fact, no one's cell phone was even ringing. Then you turned the MetroNorth car into your personal office. We got to find out that if X moved into the house early, they'd be responsible for broken windows and stuff, that the house cost $365,000, that the closing was tomorrow, that.... Please. I didn't want to know all that. I wanted to read in peace. And what about your client who's personal legal affairs were broadcast throughout the train? I thought about going up and suggesting you carry on your conversation in the vestibule. I didn't. I meekly sat and kept reading as you acted as if you were the only one on the train and as if we all would be impressed that you were so important with your legal advice to some poor soul.

Driving up the Deegan

At 6:35 am, the sun, not yet over the horizon, bathes the heights of northern Manhattan in golden peach. The university on the hill, the projects, the 40 story apartment buildings, glow in early morning light. The limestone wall dividing the south bound lanes from the north bound lanes blocks my view. By the time the wall recedes, the light leaves the city in its more normal gray.

On the way home, wild turkeys and deer graze at the side of the Saw Mill. One morning, driving up the hill that by-passes Reader's Digest's grounds, near the woods near the school, was a stag -- his full set of antlers crowning his head.

The Day Before Work Begins

One more day until work starts -- and my commute begins. I dread my commute. I hate getting up so early in the morning in order to walk to my car, usually parked several blocks from our apartment. I carry my coffee, freshly made, in an insulated, aluminum mug, balance it in the space between the driver's seat and the parking brake (if I'm in the Volvo) or in the cup-holder (if I'm in the Prius). I point my car up Madison Avenue, cross the Madison Avenue Bridge, onto the Deegan to the Moshulu, to the Sawmill. There isn't much traffic, even in New York, at 6:20 am. The return is another story.