New Yorkers are not rude people. It’s just that we can get
through the day without a lot of extraneous chitchat. We can communicate with
each other with a quick chin lift, a head nod, and if need be, a series of
simple yet eloquent hand gestures. When I first began travelling outside the
City, I was baffled by the strangers who spoke to me for what seemed like no
reason. ‘Good morning?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is this a set
up? What kind of scam are you running here?
After lots of travel and exposure to other cultures I am
less overtly hostile to the social niceties non-New Yorkers seem to require. I
know now that every salutation is not a stick up. But there’s a part of me
that’s still on guard.
When my Dad and I walked into the lobby of the medical
center for his doctor’s appointment a man in the waiting area said to him:
“Hey, you retired from the Fire Department?” My Dad, who worked as a civilian
at headquarters for over 20 years, is always wearing his FDNY jacket. “Yes,” he
said. “I retired in 1991.” Then the Stranger said, “That’s a nice pension.” And
as the warning bells went off in my head my Dad said: “Yes, very nice.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pension? What? Flag on the play! Did I
just hear that? Did my Dad hear what I heard the way I heard it? Who goes to
finances inside of a 10-second conversation with a stranger? Con men, that’s
who.
I unglued my eyes from my cell phone to look this vulture
in the face. I’m not physically intimidating but everything about me said, “I
see you, mother fucker. Keep it moving. Today is not your day.” I guess it
worked because he had nothing further to say to my Dad. The set up was shut
down.
Was I being paranoid? I’m paranoid about becoming paranoid
like my Mom. She watches the news and is so fearful she tells me to be careful
when I go to the bathroom in my own house. As if the hallway between the living
room and the bedroom goes through the Gaza Strip.
Maybe this stranger meant my Dad no harm but there are
people out there who prey on old folks thinking they’re an easy mark. And you
don’t have to mug them. The long con, the real money, is in being nice to them;
chatting them up, becoming their friend. And then the real geriatric stranger
danger begins.
And so sometimes (not all the time because that would be paranoid)
I’m apprehensive when my Dad leaves the house. I want to say, “Where are you
going? What time are you coming back? Did you ask Mommy if you could go?” And I
know now that this is how my Parents have felt about me ever since I was old enough
to toddle out past curfew, and now the proverbial shoe is firmly on the other
foot.
I watch him go out sometimes with a mixture of fear, hope,
and trust: Fear when a Silver Alert flashes on my phone. Those are Amber Alerts
for the elderly. Did you know those even existed? The worst are the ones where
the missing is described as “last seen wearing a housecoat and slippers.” I hope
that things will be ok and if they’re not that I’ll have the head and help to
handle it. And I am trusting that there are more heroes than villains. You
know, the good strangers who make sure the little kid running in the store is
actually with someone and that the old person meandering across the street
actually makes it safely, especially now since one of them is probably mine.
And taking an old page from my Parents parenting book I
too now have my spies: People around the neighborhood who text and Facebook Messenger
me when they spot my Dad out and about. People he may not even notice because they
give him the familiar New York City greeting: a chin lift, a head nod, and no
questions about money.
The Urban Erma, the longest running column on StageTimeMagazine.com, was created and written by stand-up comedian Leighann Lord. Listen to the podcast on iTunes and Stitcher Radio. Get her e-books on AMAZON!
1 comment:
Hello lady, just pass by her on my way to somewhere else and LOVE your work. I laughed, smiled and nodded behind my screen. I am like that too, I love and smile, I am actually the stranger that says "good morning", but also the one who takes a different route almost every few days to go the same places… just in case! Yes, sometimes New York can be unsafe when you are too nice…like when an old friend steals your child's day money in the stroller while pretending to reconnect and hug!
Thanks for making my day!
NiaLee
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