Cooperative Living

By Jeff Namian

When you live in New York, you innately grow a thicker layer of skin. Like a shark’s hide. While many view this layer as arrogance, they fail to realize the intensity of navigating millions of people each day just to get to work. Add grocery shopping en route home (slithering down a three foot wide aisle with accuracy required by the luge) and you’re a Xanax away from short circuiting.

Most non-New Yorkers fail to realize that underneath this protective layer are elements of patience, tolerance and respect. If everyone cooperates, we all win. If you push somebody off the subway or dart to grab that last can of peas, you’re subject to judgment by a jury of thousands.

The theory of cooperative living keeps the city well oiled. There’s always a trap door to dodge, but it’s possible that one person per day may extend some act of kindness. It requires being alert enough to spot it, since everyone’s conditioned to hide inside their shell. But when it does happen, you feel a little more visible and a lot less cynical.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665736800

Jeff Namian

Jeff Namian loves stories, and strange ones seem to migrate his way. He’s a Tri-State guy, born in Connecticut and educated in New York at Fordham. He lived and worked far too long in New York City before moving to New Jersey. He crossed the Hudson, learned to drive, and discovered the hard way that skunks aren’t cartoon characters and that weeds really do grow like weeds.

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Copyright © 2023 Jeff Namian.

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-3679-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3680-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023900583

Archway Publishing rev. date: 1/26/2023

Contents

Cooperative Living

Dead Andy

Lessons from Lucy

The Free Table

My Great Green Room

The Cocoon

Prologue

When my brother and I were old enough, our parents started bringing us into the city each Christmas. Though we lived 45 minutes outside, it was like flying to the moon.

• Checking into the Hilton and ordering room service.

• Skating in the rink at Rockefeller Center.

• Radio City and those high kicking Rockettes.

• Broadway. Madison Square Garden. Times Square.

On one trip, my mother insisted her head was freezing and her hairdo was windblown beyond acceptable (for her) so we found ourselves in Bergdoff Goodman buying her a mink hat. Just like that. When we asked our dad what was for lunch, he pointed to her head and said she’s wearing it. So we went to the automat. I reached into a box for tapioca pudding and grabbed a chubby hand. I screamed. No one reacted. I loved it.

Back home I exhausted the curriculum in my tiny town to earn early college acceptance. I moved into the city when I was 16. It was the Summer of Sam. I still loved it.

It’s my first day of college. En route to Shakespearian Lit, I stepped over a man on the sidewalk of Fordham Road. I alerted a campus security officer.

I think he needs help.

Nah, he’s just dead. They’re on their way. I cautiously loved it.

Now I’m an adult. I navigate eight million people per day employing accuracy required in the Olympics Luge. Space is limited. Velocity and clear pathways are mandatory. Dodging the peripherally challenged is on me, not the dude yelling into his cell. A black belt in karate wouldn’t hurt. I love it a little bit less.

Cooperative

Living

If you live in New York long enough, you innately grow a thick layer of skin. Sort of like shark skin. At least I did.

While many equate this tough layer to full fledged arrogance, they fail to realize the challenge of navigating millions of people each day just to get to work and then a fresh new million getting home. Add afterwork grocery shopping, slithering down a three foot wide aisle with the accuracy required by the luge, and you’re a Xanax away from short circuiting.

Most non-New Yorkers fail to realize that underneath that protective layer are elements of patience, tolerance and respect. If everybody cooperates, we all win. If you push someone off the subway car or dart to grab that last can of peas, you’re subject to judgment by a jury of thousands.

The necessity of cooperative living keeps the city well oiled. Sure there’s trap doors and pratfalls, but most people find at least one person per day that extends some small act of kindness. It requires that you’re open to the idea of spotting it, since you’re programmed to remain inside your shell. But when it happens, it makes you a little bit more visible and a whole lot less cynical.

The pinnacle of cooperative living is employed by people living in co-op buildings. Here, the dynamic takes on an all for one and one for all camaraderie, since the stability of your financial investment is directly linked to that of your neighbors. If 5K defaults on their mortgage, they certainly won’t gain popularity as their screw up impacts the value of every shareholder’s investment. When it comes to gossip or chit chat, some people do it and some don’t. But when it comes to finances, everyone knows the skinny.

A simple morning in the elevator could easily segway into did you hear 7-D is up for sale?

What are they asking, inquires 12-G.

I heard 950 and change, says 10-F.

Not a mill? Bastards. Never should have cleared ‘em.

You see, 12-G and 10-F sit on the