A New York Memory
Today is Friday, 18 January 2008.
Once upon a time, shall we say 1993?, when your author was the fierce pacifist executive director of a peace group in New York City, his office was in the “Godbox”, the building at 120th Street and Riverside in NYC, owned by the National Council of Churches.
Neatly proximate to Grant’s Tomb.
Yes, I know, who’s buried …
It was a block away, and a lovely piece of ground overlooking the Hudson River one could not for ask.
I would exit the subway at 110th Street, collect a lox-cream-cheese bagel at Columbia Bagels (the best bagelry in the world), and amble up the ten blocks to my office. Often, I would ramble past an odd platform near the water. Thereupon, a couple, which I say advisedly, since I never spoke to them, a female and a male, always in lovely tweed suits, played the bagpipes.
Who knows how early they got there, but they were piping their lungs out at ca. 7.30am. They would pipe until 8 sharp, and then do an entire Scot Army routine, twlirling and stamping their feet, totally ignoring their audience, which consisted of me, and heading off to whom knows where.
Often, they played "The Black Watch":
http://members.tripod.com/~DARTO/blackwatch.html
Once upon a time, shall we say 1993?, when your author was the fierce pacifist executive director of a peace group in New York City, his office was in the “Godbox”, the building at 120th Street and Riverside in NYC, owned by the National Council of Churches.
Neatly proximate to Grant’s Tomb.
Yes, I know, who’s buried …
It was a block away, and a lovely piece of ground overlooking the Hudson River one could not for ask.
I would exit the subway at 110th Street, collect a lox-cream-cheese bagel at Columbia Bagels (the best bagelry in the world), and amble up the ten blocks to my office. Often, I would ramble past an odd platform near the water. Thereupon, a couple, which I say advisedly, since I never spoke to them, a female and a male, always in lovely tweed suits, played the bagpipes.
Who knows how early they got there, but they were piping their lungs out at ca. 7.30am. They would pipe until 8 sharp, and then do an entire Scot Army routine, twlirling and stamping their feet, totally ignoring their audience, which consisted of me, and heading off to whom knows where.
Often, they played "The Black Watch":
http://members.tripod.com/~DARTO/blackwatch.html
posted by HH at 6:28 AM
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