SCENE: Wegmans under 15 checkout line. An African-American woman, perhaps age 40, was at the register. She had a pink flower in her hair.
Me: So, you’ve got the Billie Holiday look today.
She: (smiles) Do you like Billie Holiday?
Me: Very much.
She: What song of hers do you like?
Me: Uh (remembering my last blogpost) “April in Paris.”
She: How about “Good Morning Heartache?”
Me: Sure–that’s beautiful.
She: Begins singing a verse of that song. She is wonderful! The lady behind me and I stand there mesmerized. Then she finishes the verse and smiles, resuming her packing.
Me: That was so good! Thank you. (It was the first time I was ever mesmerized in a grocery store )
Billie Holiday
GOOD MORNING HEARTACHE: Diana Ross played Billie Holiday in the movie “The Lady Sings the Blues” and she sang this song for the film, but in the version below we hear Billie Holiday herself.
Conversation: NYC Street Series. By Paul Goldfinger. Click left for full view
By Paul Goldfinger (Some of us miss that Wegmans Café on the second floor; Will it ever return?)
Scene: Wegmans, Ocean. Upstairs café where they have numerous tables and chairs. It is a weekday morning, about 8:30 am. No one else is there. I arrive with my coffee, bagel, iPhone (to check BF) and The New York Times paper edition — looking forward to my mellow morning routine. I find a table with a view overlooking the store. I set everything on the table and sit down.
Disembodied female voice: “With all the tables up here, did you have to sit near me?”
I look around. There is a column facing me, and behind the column I see a woman sitting at a laptop computer. I didn’t notice her before, but now she is quite obvious.
She is about 40 years old and is staring at me, with a slight but (am I imagining this?) menacing smile. I instinctively react negatively to her voice, her tone and her appearance.
Men, I think, always incorporate an assessment of a woman’s appearance whenever they get to talk to one. I thought she was pretty unattractive, although, if it weren’t for her bad attitude, I might have found something to admire.
I stand up and step closer to her.
Me: “Are you kidding?” (I was incredulous, but I also considered the small possibility that she was just teasing.)
She: “No!”
Me: “Well then, I don’t care.” (I mean, really….is she nuts? — thought I. But maybe I do care…a little.)
She: “I’m putting my ear phones on.”
Me: Silence. I resume my morning activities.
Postscript: About 20 minutes later I look up and see that she is gone, but she left a souvenir: all her breakfast detritus. Normally I might have tossed it into the garbage, but it is, in an odd way, part of her, and I didn’t want to think about her for another moment. The busboy will get it.
