Subway Prayer Rules... Usually there is a lull on the West side subways about 9:20 am. First you have to wait awhile for the number one train, and then there is another wait for the express at 96th. Thursday morning was typical- I had a Civil Court calendar call so I headed out about 9:15 with a medium briefcase. There was a three minute wait at the local stop, and when we pulled into the express station at 96th street a crowd was already waiting. I was at the back of the platform because I go up the stairs a Times Square to catch the Q train down to Canal and Lafayette. As we waited, people shifted around the platform trying to get where we thought the doors on the express would land when it pulled in. Every one moved away from the lady with the baby carriage, because baby carriages at rush hour jam up the area near the door. Finally, after about five minutes I sighted the express train- a warm light curving in the tunnel- a number three train. The three is the one to get, because it starts in Manhattan it isn’t crowded, and has lots of empty seats. The two comes from the far reaches of the Bronx, and is always jammed up. Anyway, the three pulls in and I lose the door lottery- I’m four feet away from the nearest door. As I crowd into the train, I spot an empty seat next to a young woman with her eyes closed, but a young guy moving quickly gets it right in front of me. I stand in the empty area in the middle of the car and reach up to hold onto the overhead rail as the train hits 72nd Street. As we head out again, the train speed picks up markedly, trying to make up time, and the train starts swaying, nothing bad but you have to think about keeping your balance. As I sway with the train, the young woman with the closed eyes opens them and curtly remarks “Ma’am please watch your brief case, it just went into my knee!” I turned and looked down at her, defensively saying “The train is swaying, I didn’t realize I touched you because I’m trying to keep my balance.” She answered sharply “Well you did” and snaps her eyes shut again. I moved the brief case to my wrist and grab one of the center bars to hold my self steady, disgruntled, mostly because she had a seat while I stood, and looked her more closley. She was fingering a set of beads in her lap and moving her mouth in prayer. At that moment I felt bad, feeling that maybe she had an injury and my briefcase brushing against her knee had activated the pain, and said “Look I’m sorry, if I hurt you.” but she impatiently shook her head and continued to pray. The train thundered on, and just before we reached 42nd street she opened her eyes and looking up at me unsmilingly, announced “ I wanted to finish my prayers before I accepted your apology. Now I accept it, because I realize you probably did not intend to have your brief case touch my knee.” Smiling, I told her to have a nice day. Then, obviously uninjured, she jumped up and got out the door ahead of me while I lumbered off the train. I can’t get this incident out of my mind. Did my briefcase hurt her? I’ve tried swinging it at my knee but barely feel it. But it must have been annoying to have a brief case brushing up against her, hitting her knee. But if she was religious, shouldn't she have used a gentler tone of voice? I’m a lot older than her, what about respecting her elders? Is it OK in her religion to be annoyed at an old person trying to keep their balance because her prayers were disturbed? Isn’t that against prayer rules? Why didn’t her God tell her to get up and give me her seat?

I lived in Heidelberg for ten years 1965- 1975 in a 7 story apartment building without Central heating or hot water. We had a coal/woodstove in the kitchen, a "running" gas heater for water in the bathroom, and an oil heater in the living room. When we were low on funds I ran up onto the mountain to get wood for heating. My friend in Stuttgart lived in a 17 story building built after the war, and it also had no central heating. They had an oil stove in the living room, and when I wanted a bath there was a water heater in the bathroom with a scuttle of coal bricks beside it. We all dressed in heavy clothes around the house and slept in featherbeds. Normal everyday travel was by bicycle, and we rented a piece of roadside land from the City at 30 marks a year with the proviso that we would cultivate it. We reached it by bicycle and raised a lot of American vegetables- things like summer squash, acorn squash and eating corn, which they didn't have in Europe then, and American origin vegetables tomatoes, potatoes, and beans. Except for dairy and some meat, we basically ate off the garden between June and November. There was a big strawberry patch and a cherry tree already on site, so I made preserves, and sold fresh cherry pies to American army expats. Vacations were made on bicycles, and we took our bikes to the train station, got on the train with them, and rode around Paris or Normandy. My son had a kinderseat on the front of the bike. The summer I had a singing job Bayreuth I got a reduced fare train pass. Life in the City of Buffalo where I was born and grew up in the fifties wasn't that different then. We had a coal furnace in the basement, a big backyard garden, and I walked or rode my bike to grade school, high school, and college. When I was very small Buffalo still had a belt line with commutor trains and street cars, and my older brother would take the train downtown to work. Buffalo was killed even before the steel plant closings by the dismantling of the mass transit and huge eminent domain takings of entire middle class neighborhoods to build highways. I recall riding my bike through miles of a empty formerly German- American middle class neighborhoods destroyed for highways. I was an usher for the Philharmonic Junior Committee and my social life stopped when they stopped running buses after 10 pm. The developers also convinced Mayor Sedita to seize and dismantle downtown Buffalo - mostly east of Main street, and downtown became a huge vacant area. When I went to Mannheim Germany for voice lessons I stupidly asked my voice teacher if they had ripped down downtown Mannheim for a redevelo[pment project. He gave me a tart answer- roughly translated "No , your people redeveloped us- with bombs." Right now I live in Mannhattan, and still have a Garden- two gardens really, but use them mostly for herbs and flowers- I buy our vegetables in Chinatown after Court, or the GreenMarkets or the Koreans.. I got my first car as a gift when I was fifty, for trips outside the City. I am always amazed at the waste of good land I see in the suburbs. Our brother in law has a huge 12 room house in the suburbs of in Fairfax Va.,- they never use the deck, preferring the central AC, and the huge plot of land is manicured by Mexican day laborers There is, no vegetable Garden and you need a car to buy a quart of milk. But strangest of all- whether its in Va. or upstate, I never see anyone outside - people have huge houses on big plots of property and never sit outside or walk around. If my relatives are any indication, everyone is sitting around in the basement watching TV , or at the mall looking for more uninteresting stuff to buy. Why do they have to take up all that land if they are just going to stay inside all the time? In the Cities, people still walk around on the street, take buses and trains and ride bikes, and different types of people get to mingle and talk to each other.