Close-Up U.S.A.

Close-Up U.S.A.

When I was a kid in the 1970s and my parents were preparing to drive across the country and find a new place to live, they bought a boxed set of maps from National Geographic named Close-Up U.S.A.  Now, as a kid, I misread the title, thinking it meant the heteronym, like a business at the end of the day would "close up the shop," I thought the USA, my home country, was closing!

It was a relief some time later to realize that the title meant something more like "I'm ready for my close-up now," and the U.S.A. wan't actually closing.  And it was kind of funny for years to think of my childhood misunderstanding.

However, now in March 2020, the U.S.A. is sort of closing up, like "close up shop" kind of closing.  With the novel coronavirus pandemic spreading and people getting sick with the COVID-19 from it.  The president is belated closing our borders, starting first with travelers from China, but now from Europe (minus the one European country where this president owns commercial properties).

States are closing schools all over.  New York State just shot down all Broadway plays in order to reduce the number of people in close proximity.  Several states have put a limit on the number of people gathered together.

It'll probably get more restricted before it gets back to normal, whenever it does...

The U.S.A., bit by bit, is closing!

Here are some photos of Close-Up U.S.A. thought I found on the internet.  None of these photos are mine.

M - The Doormat

A previous occupant of the apartment I just moved into here in Manhattan left the doormat for me.  At first I sighed and thought it didn't suit me, but I wasn't going to bother ever buying a new one.

But then I realized it does suit me.  Both of my late grandfathers' initials were M, for Marty and Morris.

Now I remember them almost every time I come home.

The Once in a Lifetime Compliment

Today I was sitting in Washington Square Park on a park bench, holding my Moleskine notebook in my lap and writing a diary entry.  The notebook isn't a hardbound one, so I was struggling to write in it.  After I'd filled about a quarter of a page I was interrupted.

Two well-dressed, elderly ladies walked by and said to me that they couldn't read what I'd written, but that my handwriting looked very nice.

I tried to tell them that my handwriting isn't really very good, and never has been, but they cut off my protest with, "it's very neat and orderly."  I decided not to argue and said, "thank you."

I mean, my handwriting is awful.  Calling it "chicken scratch" is likely to get chickens up in arms (wings?) over the insult...  It's never been good.  In elementary school I had to take special handwriting classes with a special pencil because my writing was simply that bad.

The only time it was ever not terribly awful was the few years I used a fountain pen for my diary entries.  It actually had improved a little during that time, but then all my pens started leaking and I quit using them.

So, it was very odd for complete strangers passing by to tell me my handwriting is nice, neat and orderly...

This is what I was writing in my notebook when the ladies saw me...  They would've seen
it upside down, from the walkway...

This is something I wrote a few weeks ago, in my previous notebook, with a
more rigid plastic cover, writing at a table on the High Line.

How to Talk to Girls

One thing I've noticed lately, especially on Facebook, where it's mostly in English, is young Indian men don't seem to know how to talk to young women...

I see women, like my coworkers, posting photos of themselves, and young men posting comments like:

• o so big
• u way a tun
• so ugly

One young lady posted a photo of her birthday cake with the candles 2 & 3 on it, with a guy commented "Btw, its "28" na???". And another posted a picture of two not-at-all fat or unattractive women on a sculpture of a turtle with a young man posting the comment "Poor tortoise!!!!".

A few years ago when a small group of us traveled on business and a young, single man shared an apartment with the lone woman in the group, telling her throughout the trip that she was getting fatter and fatter and he knew she needed to keep clothes shopping for bigger sizes (which by the way, was not true at all...).

So, what's the deal?

Are arranged marriages here in India so common because young men simply can't talk to young women and need their parents to get them through "the dating game" that they'd fail if it was up to them?

Or are they so rude and insulting because they know their parents are going to arrange their marriage anyway so it doesn't matter?

The Green Lizard Ate a Tennis Ball

Our fifteen year old niece asks a lot of questions. That in itself isn't so bad. The annoying aspect is that she asks the same ones over and over and over. She's not dumb, she's quite intelligent, speaks five or six different languages, reads a lot, so it's not like she's incapable of understanding or remembering the answers. I think she asks more to hear herself talk and to be the center of attention than anything else...

She likes to get started with "have you ever been to ?" and then ask one place after another until someone loses patience and tells her stop. But I'm not sure she can think of a variety of place names as fast as she can talk, so it's always the same places, even in the same conversation. And in the years I've known her, only one answer has ever changed, after my first trip to London (but she doesn't have to ask, I told her I was going there, and I told her about it afterwards...)

They say there are no stupid questions, but maybe sometimes asking the question is stupid...

I'm trying to get Leena to start answering our niece's questions with nonsensical answers, or at least, ones that don't have anything to do with the question...

Q. Have you ever been to Egypt? (let's face it, she'd know if I took a trip to Egypt between any of the many times she's asked this question...)

A. The green lizard ate a tennis ball.

Q. Does Kevin really get up at 4am? (how many times does this need to be answered?)

A. The elevator shoes don't stop at the 13th floor.

Q. Do you speak Jewish? (I tell her at least ten times a year, often on successive weekends that the language is Hebrew, and that I don't speak it...)

A. The owl hunts at midnight.

Q. Have you ever been to Paris? (asked and answered numerous times...)

A. We'll be trialling a new, updated, paradigm of non-fact based information disbursal, in acknowledgement of valueless queries.

Q. Have ever read Mary Kate and Ashley?

A. Rising runner missed by endless sender...

Q. Have you ever been to Orlando? (yes, I've told her numerous times I've been to Orlando!)

A. A box without hinges, key or lid, yet golden treasure, inside is hid.

Q. Have you read Twilight?  (We usually talk about books, I'd tell her if I was reading her favorite book series...)
A. Performing on a stool, we've a sight to make you drool, seven virgins and a mule, keep it cool.