(I should probably preface this by saying that I really like avocados, and would willingly eat an entire one by myself.) A few nights ago I was making dinner and cut open an avocado that I had bought that day, and it was half rotten, and then when I did cut out the good part, it browned immediately, and I had a mini-fit. I think this was prompted more by general homesickness and the fact that my feet hurt, but there I was: smacking my knife on the counter, slamming kitchen cabinets, and muttering. My cousin looked over and mildly asked what on earth I was doing. "Why is all the produce here gross?" I ranted. "Everything is so expensive, and I had to wait for half an hour at the store to even BUY this defective avocado. AND WHY ARE THERE PEOPLE YELLING ON THE SIDEWALK? What is WRONG with this stupid city????"
"Trade-offs," my cousin replied.
What is more important to me? Good avocados, or culture? Good avocados, or public transport? Good avocados...or adventure? At that moment, I would have picked the avocado (or being able to drive, or having a backyard with a garden again) but now, as usual, I'm not sure.
Today the air was crisp and cooler and the sky was bright, bright blue. I was leaving the Brooklyn Museum and stopped to watch a step-team practice in front (for those of you William Smithers...think the Hip Notiqs, but 12 years-old.) Little kids ran around the fountain, and older kids skateboarded up and down the stairs. A modeling shoot was happening a few feet away. A violin-cello duo set up to play for some cash. It was noisy and crowded and interesting. Trade-offs.
As I walked home, I passed the places that I've come to know, like the deli with the ex-Marine cashier, who gave me tips about staying cool when it was so hot in July ("pour one capful of water down your spine, that's what they told us in the desert.") And the fire hydrant that occasionally sprays water, which people then wash their hands in. And the crossing guard who compliments my shoes.
Here is an early morning view from the shuttle stop near my place, since I don't have any pictures of these everyday moments. You put up with the snarling morning commute and the cat-sized rats and the noise, because it is ultimately worth it. I'm going to keep trying to have my avocado, and eat it too.
P.S. This is unrelated, but Peter, Paul and Mary was the first concert I ever went to, and in honor of Mary, I would like to add:
Light one candle for all we believe in
That anger not tear us apart
And light one candle to find us together
With peace as the song in our heart
Thanks for the music, lady.
3 comments:
It's nice to have a cool, calm, cousin in one's life, isn't it? Wish I could send you a box of just-right, ripe avocados!
Couldn't you have returned the avocado? Mike purchased a rotten one at Wegmans, and they exchanged it for a new one; although, this may simply be a product of Wegman's prestigious customer service and not grocery store status-quo.
Yeah, trust me..this was NO Wegmans (this was the store I texted you in line from, waiting 1/2 an hour in checkout.) And when I felt the avocado, I really thought it was an ok ripeness, but I'm soo bad at telling when things are ripe or overripe!
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