I had every intention of spending today alone.
After having been out every single night last week (hyper sociability being one of the side effects of no longer being stressed about my job), my apartment needed a bit of attention and I needed at bit of downtime. At a party last night, I turned down an invitation to chicken wings and Sunday afternoon football in favor of doing laundry and tackling the dishes that had piled up in the sink. But when I got up late this morning, hungover and in no mood to play domestic goddess, I was sorry I had. But no sooner had I rededicated myself to the idea of tidying the apartmen, my phone lit up with a new text message.
Thanks for coming out last night. We’re all watching football if you get done with laundry.
An hour later I was showered and meeting my new friends at an UWS bar catching up on the Bears game and nursing my hangover on diet soda. Now this was downtime. And then, with the game finished and less than an hour of daylight left, we set out to catch Central Park in all of its fall finery. It was gorgeous. I couldn’t believe what I’d nearly missed. We crunched through leaves and fantasized about jumping from trees into the world’s biggest leaf pile. We stopped to watch a small wedding ceremony at the edge of the Turtle Pond, and then when dark set in, we took a turn around the Great Lawn.
“Want to have a look at a planet?”
At the north end of the lawn, a grey bearded man had stopped us, gesturing toward his south-facing telescope. The man was old and wiry and I could smell his breath from three feet away.
“Which planet?” Matt asked, stepping up to the telescope.
“Venus,” I answered. I could see it clearly in the night sky.
We took turns squinting into the eyepiece. Venus was dark on one side, as though it was being eclipsed.
“Now, tell me why we’re looking at her,” the old man asked us. When none of us could provide a satisfactory answer quickly enough, he launched into lessons on Galileo and
“Heliocentricity.”
“Right!” The old man grinned at me. “Galileo had been right all along. Our solar system is heliocentric.”
I cracked a joke about my universe being ego-centric and the old man lit up, becoming even more animated.
“Aha! But see, that’s not a bad thing. When we decided to go the moon or to send up satellites or the Hubble, we had to think of everything in terms of our own planet. We had to get geocentric again.”
Then he did a dance. Hopping on one skinny leg and then the other, our Central Park Professor wrapped up his lesson. “It’s okay to be egocentric so long as you remember both hemispheres.”
We thanked him and walked off in the dark blissed out over our amateur astronomy lesson, swapping stories about our favorite random New York moments. This was certainly going on the list. What a gem. Seconds later, though, it occurred to me to go back, mostly because I’d had absolutely no idea what he meant by hemispheres. But no matter.
I suppose I got the gist of it.
Yin and Yang I figure. Defence and attack, give and take, relaxation and verve, hot and cold.
Ah yes. Balance. I love getting universal lessons from nutty old guys in the park.
Perhaps there is something wrong with me, but I love running into nutty old guys. Especially those with a penchant for vague, yet deep sounding comments. Telescope watching guy seemed like the best reason to be out last night. I wish things like this were to happen to me when I were out. Perhaps I would get some greater insight into my own universe.
On a side note, have we started new job yet? Or are we just having some lovely hang time right now?
No, no. I do, too. He was wonderful. So odd and quirky but so happy to be teaching us something.
New job starts next Monday. In the meantime, I am basically just filling up space here. Not too interested in working.
i think he meant both sides (hemispheres) of your brain….
“i am a rock, i am an island, and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.” don’t know why that lyric popped in my head. just thought i’d share. probably more appropriate for the previous post but there it is.
Favorite New York moment: my first day living in the city and going out for a drink with friends on a cold december evening. my friend jumped on a man’s back after being offered a ride over a large slushy puddle. he slipped and both were soaking wet. lesson learned: never accept rides from strangers.
not as philosophical as your astronomy lesson, but a favorite moment nonetheless.
This narrative reminded me the image I got of Willy Wonka when I read the book, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Of course the small drawings in the book helped the image along.
Willy Wonka the Central Park Astronomer. Imagine that.
I agree, you have to remember both hemispheres of your brain: there are times to use the logical/analytical/serious side, and other times to use the artsy/imaginative/emotional side! And most times, it’s best to use BOTH.
Love cooky old guys in the park. Mostly I love that he could be my dad and someone may appreciate him! On behalf of daughters of wacky dads everywhere, thanks for listening to him!
My dad is a harmless weirdo, too. I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for those.
why is it that, often, your most valuable entries receive the fewest comments?
and my prayers for the current “murder” situation.
natalie