by Robert E. A. Lee

     There I was on a glorious summer morning, walking, walking, walking down some twenty-five blocks in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. I “heard” in my head the old tap-dancing tune, East side, west side, all around the town…” from the “gay nineties”. The direction was down because I started uptown at 84th following one appointment, and walked toward midtown to 59th for another. I had plenty of time and therefore was not at all rushed. It was mild and sunny. I found, however, that going “down town” also involved walking up a hill. Funny, in years and years of working in the city, I guess I assumed that the cement terrain was all flat. Not so at all. Now I realize why that part of town is called Lennox Hill.

     I was in a mood to absorb as much of the scene as possible. AIone in the crowd, I was rewarded with unending fascination.

     Earlier, in ascending on one of the double escalators from the deep bowels of the Grand Central Station subway during a transfer from the Flushing line to the Lexington line, I remained in a single file on the right side of the rising steps; after a few seconds another line of eager commuters started to pass on our left, a solid line of step climbers rising along with us. Good exercise for them. Saves time, too – maybe a 30-second gain -- for someone hurrying to a job. Nothing unusual about that in New York or elsewhere, except I discovered that at least half of the impatient passengers were Asian. What might that be saying to us?

     On the busy street, it seemed that one-third of the pedestrians were talking while walking with cell phones at their ear. For a Midwest native, it still seems odd that no one seems to makes eye contact with others. However, I was walking behind someone who surprisingly met a friend. What fun to observe them laughing delightedly at their lucky encounter.

     That area of Manhattan is elite territory. Luxury apartments are advertised. The shop windows shout quality – and affluence. In maintaining the clean and neat appearance of the avenue, some doormen were hosing the sidewalks and other workers were using soap and water to wash the facades of the elegant store fronts.

     I knew that yellow cabs were everywhere in this part of town (but try to find one in Harlem) and I was tempted to give up walking when my feet began to object; yet, no taxi without a passenger came along then. And when I counted the blocks left, I chose to hoof it, so to speak. Because there was time, I compromised by deciding to stop for a coffee. But as so often happens when looking for a phone booth or a restaurant or a rest room, they seem hidden from the seeker. Finally, however, I spotted the familiar green sign for Starbucks. Oh, happy day!

     As I enjoyed my cappuccino and cookie, I watched the customers come and go. In and out came at least three young women pushing prams with one hand and holding a phone to their ear with the other hand.

     Many nannies appeared to be giving their wards perambulator rides on the sidewalk. And dog tenders also were exercising the pets (beautifully groomed) in their custody.

     All of this was at street level. We walkers on the sidewalks of New York surely were abstractly aware of the high-rise office buildings and apartment complexes scraping the sky above us. Yet, one notices these awesome canyons more when returning to the scene after a hiatus away.

     I found the experience of mingling again with “the old-time throng” surprisingly upbeat. Such character written in the faces coming toward me! Not as many weird costumes or hairdos as I might meet on Broadway or at Times Square, but the folks in my parade seemed at home on the Upper East Side. Most were striding along purposefully. Some looked weary, eager to complete their task. At one intersection I saw a hesitant blind woman being almost pulled along by an elderly woman who herself could hardly manage to walk; it reminded me of “the blind leading the blind.” Some on the street, but not many, were obvious tourists, pointing here and there and looking up at the ever changing Manhattan skyline.

     People seemed different to me somehow. But then I realized that I may have looked different, too. I concluded that so much of what our field of vision embraces is filtered by our own attitude. If we feel dour or down, we may view the sights in front of us as gloomy also. Similarly, when we feel confident, grateful, open, positive and hopeful, we find ourselves on the sunny side of the street.

     Maybe the doctor, who had checked my eyes that morning before I traipsed down through the crowded streets, had the answer. When I complimented him on looking so youthful and healthy, he quickly responded, “Ah, but I gave you rose-colored glasses!”

Page last modified by Richard Lee on 22 July 2004