I thought you ladies might appreciate this story

Some of you may remember the time we read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, and then I found a dead body in the park across the street from our house.  Last weekend, I had another interesting book-related experience.

We have the family tradition of each opening a new book on Christmas Eve, so naturally I looked up Books Appetit for ideas, and scored with The History of Love by Nicole Krauss.  I'm sorry I missed out on that discussion.  I'm sure it was a good one.  I ended that book feeling a bit down about a few things--that my nursing sessions with Ivy wouldn't be filled with such great things to read and ponder, that I didn't have anyone to talk to about these great things, and that Leo Gursky was even lonelier than I'd thought.  I just couldn't seem to shake this character from my thoughts (definitely a sign of a great book).

We'd recently had a family discussion about being counseled to be more specific in our prayers, so one morning I decided to pray to meet whatever "Leo Gurskeys" needed us most that day.  We met three.

The first was a woman with white hair and a nice smile who we'd met before, but hadn't seen for awhile.  The second was a woman we hadn't met before, but who knew some people we know.

The third reminded me so much of Leo Gursky himself, it was unreal.  This gentleman in his late seventies wearing a suit and a black top hat sat down by us on the train.  He opened and closed his right hand to try to get Ivy to smile, while holding a bag of popcorn with his left, every once in a while pausing to pop a piece in his mouth.  (I've never seen anyone eating popcorn here in public except at a parade or at the movies, especially not on the train where eating is not allowed and most people obey this rule, especially the elderly.  The popcorn reminded me of Leo who, as you might recall, would buy it and spill it just so people would notice him).

Myles asked him if he had any Enkelkinder.  He said yes, four kids and grandchildren, and was happy to tell us all about them, so I was confused when I thought I'd heard him say that it was schlimm (bad) to have a big family (because here four is big).  He did talk about how he used to work a lot, but that now he was retired. At some point, he turned around and waved for someone to come join him who never came.  (Myles told me later that he thought it was a man in a brown coat with black glasses who he assumed was his friend, but didn't want to get up and move).

Since he seemed dressed for a special occasion, I wondered where he'd been or where he was going.  He said he was just going to walk around downtown (even though the shops were closed) to pass the time.  His eyes were so light blue that I wondered if he had cataracts or just another surreal characteristic.  It wasn't until we'd said goodbye, stepped off the train, and Myles and I swapped what we'd heard that I figured out he was lonelier than I'd realized.  Now that he had time for his kids who he felt like he'd worked so hard for, they didn't have any time for him.

At this point, Myles started singing "The Cats in the Cradle."  Once I realized his situation, I felt bad we hadn't done more to help him out.  We were on our way to eat homemade ice cream at our friends' place, and Myles said he was close to inviting him.  And yet.