METROPOLITAN DIARY
Burnt Popcorn
Dear Diary:
On a rainy afternoon I was finishing up physical therapy when a fire alarm went off. Everyone ignored it at first, but then we saw smoke.
People began moving toward the door. It’s a big practice, and there were about 40 people there. We soon realized it was just burnt popcorn, but we had to evacuate anyway.
I grabbed my coat and slipped into my sneakers, not bothering to tie them. I just wanted to get away from the smoke. We all filed down the stairs and out into the street.
Conveniently, there is a firehouse next door. Someone corralled a firefighter who went inside to deactivate the alarm.
Several other firefighters were milling around, including one who caught my eye. He looked as if he had been sent by central casting. He was tall and bulky in his uniform, with a shaved head and a handsome face.
“So, you aren’t rushing to the popcorn fire?” I said as I walked by.
“Oh, is that what it is?” he said with a chuckle.
“Yes, they made us leave,” I replied.
“That’s protocol,” he said, and then looked down. “Your sneakers aren’t tied.”
I was about to duck into a store.
“I’ll take care of it when I get inside,” I said.
Before I knew it, he was on his knees.
“Let me tie these for you,” he said.
So, this great big firefighter was tying my shoes. I rested my hand on his back.
“I’m going to double knot them,” he said.
Tears came to my eyes.
“That’s what my mother used to do,” I said.
“There’s a reason for that. Let me get the other one.”
“Is this part of your training?” I teased.
“Absolutely,” he said, and then gave me a big smile as I headed on my way.
— Mary Morris
Tiny Gods
Dear Diary:
When I moved to New York, I searched for traces of my home. I carried my binoculars and the Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Eastern North America almost everywhere.
When I spotted a bird I didn’t know, I looked to its genus and thought of the birds from my home who shared the same taxonomy. American birds fascinated me: the robin that hunted for earthworms by listening for their tunneling; the blackpoll warbler and its mammoth migration.
On weekends, I took to wandering around the Ramble in Central Park. I watched a juvenile red-tailed hawk hunt near the bird feeders. Not far from Park Avenue, I spotted a barred owl sleeping high up in a tree.
I am settled now, and I leave my binoculars at home. I listen to the bird calls of blue jays and Northern cardinals and think only of them. I become shocked when I forget the names of my home-country birds, like I have betrayed them in some way.
But the reverence I hold for birds remains the same. I still stop in wonder whenever I see a tiny god in the middle of Manhattan.
— Benn Jeffries
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/20/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html
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