People Watching

Broadway at Times Square

When we lived in North Bergen, my mother and neighbors would put folding aluminum chairs on the sidewalk in the evening.  These chairs were kept in the hallway of our two story attached brick house..  The hallway led to the apartment upstairs where Mildred (and, before her, the Dumeresks) lived.  When I joined them, I sat on the stoop to Zora's apartment next door...sitting in chairs was for the adults.

They would sit for a few hours each evening...chat about the day's events but also say "hello" or not say "hello,"  sometimes just nod a greeting...to people passing by.  They'd be going to the corner store or maybe for a late walk in the park.  And after they passed by, well, there was time for a comment about them...some piece of news...some remark "She's not looking so good."  or "I heard his sister is sick."  Not any backbiting...they were not gossips.  Just collectors and disseminators of  news and observations.

Broadway in North Bergen

The street we lived on, Broadway, did not resemble the Broadway across the river in Manhattan. No room for folding chairs there. Yet that same pleasure is found in the City, as Manhattan was always referred to, as if we ourselves did not live in a city (but then we did not, we lived in a "town.")  This past fall, I was chased off a stoop around the corner from Park Avenue by a maid...so access to this pleasure is not universally granted.

In either place or, for that matter, any place, there is delight in just observing people, watching their movements, identifying characteristics that are different or the same, perhaps pointing out the color or drape of clothing...in a sense, defining ourselves by what we see or do not see in others. Or by where we sit.