A woman came into my store today-she had just been into New York to have her hair done- she is a long-time customer-  she is at Columbia University doing a post graduate degree- She met a man today (in the store)while she waited for a watch battery to be replaced- they eventually ended up exchanging phone numbers and she invited him to lunch-

Nothing remarkable in that- it has happened at the counter before-but the remarkable thing is her attitude- her vitality- She is 92 and had told me she has problems finding men whom she can date and he is 82- they both could pass for being in their 60s- He is a writer-She said the most important thing is to have a glass of warm prune juice in the evening and a yogurt before you go to bed-Err I don't know if I want to live THAT long anyway!!

It was just a nice thing to happen- to see two people who were supportive of each other - she was encouraging him to finish his masters-

December, 1947: My Dad's first Christmas home after the war. The doorbell rings, the delivery is a four-foot crate, heavy and awkward for him to manage. He lost nearly 100 pounds in the war; at 6' 2" he returned at 118- but he returned. Still gaining weight under my mothers' determined assault of pies, gravies and big steaks, he calls his 14 year old son to help him wrestle it under the tree. It's for my mother, pregnant with me.

I'll say, boastfully, that I'm a good friend. I revel in both the small attentions and grand gestures, the planned and sponaneous meetings, the bond of shared experience. Lately I've noticed several friends are available if I call. They say "What a great idea!"; we get together, and that's that until the next time I think of them.

So, this is my resignation letter, not that the women in mind read this blog. I don't need regular, perfect symmetry and can enjoy the years-go-by-then-we-connect kind of friendship. I'm either going to ask for what I would like, without blame, or in a few cases, see how the current flows. I don't want friendship to carry obligation; I'd like several of mine to have more mutuality.

Jane Cooper, a contemporary of Grace Paley's, died yesterday, and the NYT obituary included her poem "Rent". Thought you might enjoy it too.

Rent

I never saw Working Girl, so it never clouded my vision about this song.

Let the river run

Let all the dreamers wake the nations.

Come, the New Jerusalem......