Tuesday gifted my complacent city brethren with the rare and wonderful wake up call that only a 5.6 earthquake can bring. We certainly had a moment of shock here on the 12th floor at the PR firm where I work; It's not every day one feels one's building sway from side to side with all the fluidity of a Jamaican "wine" (that's a dance that employs a lot of hip undulation, btw).
Wednesday was gorgeous. So gorgeous, so sunny, so perfect, that there was nothing I wanted more than to spend my first afternoon off in many weeks staring out at the remarkably calm waters of the Hudson and watch the sun catch and glimmer in the occasional ripples of waves.
Today, it's raining. I just finished reading Before Night Falls, by Reinaldo Arenas, this morning actually. I was so sad that it was over, that this man's lovely capacity for narrative had been silenced by the AIDS monster, that the light rain on my way to work seemed to compliment my mood. BNF has got to be one of the best novels/autobiographies that I have read in a LONG time. However, I was equally in acquiescence and a bit outraged that Reinaldo should finally get free of Cuba only to find New York to be a city without a soul.
As I walked through the streets contemplating that line in his novel, the city saw fit to remind me along every step of the way that though we might be sucked into the vacuum of energy and intensity that makes New York the metropolis it is, Reinaldo was wrong: the city really does have a soul. First there were the kind cashiers in Jamba Juice who went out of their way to ensure I would like their suggestion of smoothie. Then, there were the two construction workers who put a piece of wood down over this epic puddle so that I could cross the narrow pathway to get to work. Next, there was the incredibly well spoken, persistent, and driven young man who was able to convince me to support Children's International.
It's true we spend perhaps too much time as a city, as a country, in a dialogue about fiscal responsibility that, while important, can induce selfishness and detract from the value of humanity. Regardless, I feel confident that there will always be those with the fortitude to remind us of our priorities.
Despite all of the mistakes I've made that give me pause, the reminiscences of people who I've loved and lost, my own failings, there is today a healing balm in the warm summer rain. We go on. Things do get better. Life is better through the lens of love.
La Vie en Rose - (Colloquially - Life through rose colored glasses)
Edith Piaf's Original
Louis Armstrong's delightful trumpet-enhanced rendition
The French
The English
"Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose.
When you kiss me, Heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose.
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak
Angels sing from above
Every day words
Seem to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose.
I thought that love was just a word
They sang about in songs I heard
It took your kisses to reveal
That I was wrong, and love is real.
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose.
When you kiss me, Heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose.
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak
Angels sing from above
Every day words
Seem to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose"
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
Voila le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ca me fait quelque chose.