Gotham Diary:
Playground
16 August 2012
Separation anxiety: this morning, Ray Soleil and I carried the four dining chairs downstairs and out the service entrance onto 87th Street. The upholsterer’s van appeared presently, and the chairs were carried away. Although the material in which the seats are covered is in fine shape, the underlying upholstery has given way, so that you fear that you are going to fall right through the frame when you sit down. While I’m out on Fire Island, the chairs will be repaired and returned — it makes great sense. But the combination of losing the chairs while preparing to go away for an entire month left me feeling somewhat stateless.
***
Among the many books that I ordered a while back, a few have begun to stream in, and one of the first is singularly interesting just as a book, for it is the first that I have ever held, much less owned, that was published in India (Aleph Books, New Delhi 2012). It is a novel, Em and the Big Hoom, by Jerry Pinto, and I’ve read more than half of it already. It tells the story, played for rueful comedy, of an Anglophone family of Goans living in Mumbai. At the heart of the tale is the mother’s very serious bipolar disorder, which defies medication. But what fascinates me is the language, which is fluent but slightly foreign. Without ever being lost, I’m aware of missing nuances here and there, usages that have sprung up in a community that’s physically remote from other English-speaking groups, and therefore as distinctive as Cockney or country. And the pages are edged in black.
***
In the early afternoon, Megan and Will came uptown, and we met at Carl Schurz Park. It was interesting to watch Will’s interactions with the other children, who were, of course, complete strangers. There were occasional difficulties, but no violence and no tears. I was entertained by a ballet of sorts involving a little girl, her mother, and Will’s collection of small cars. While Will was playing with two of his cars, the girl approached and expressed an interest in sharing one of them. Will did not reciprocate, but moved to bar from his little parking lot: “My cars.” When Megan suggested that Will be nicer, he reached for a third car and offered it to the girl, but it was too little, too late, and the girl walked away brusquely. This earned her a gentle reprimand from her mother, who now entered the scene and, not knowing the circumstances, thanked Will for being so generous. It was all so unfair!
For the record, I ought to note that I had my first complete telephone conversation with Will yesterday. He said hello and told me that he was at his house. I said that I was at my house, and, having just heard what he’d been up to earlier this week, asked him if he’d see the sea lions (no, the seals), the penguins (no response), and the dinosaurs (yes!). At this point, Will decided that he’d had enough, and he said “bye.” I said that I loved him, and he said that he loved me, and we both said “bye.” Then his mother came back on the line. It was all quite competent.
