Bizarre New York Moment #583

Walking down 106th a shriveled woman approached me and the dog. Her knarled fingers grasped the handles of her walker as she spoke in a gutteral Eastern European accent. "Hello, can you help me." My five foot four frame towered over her hunched shoulders.

"What do you need?" I said twirling Sebastian's leash to hold him at my left side.

"Can you read something to make sure the English is good." I looked at my watch. I wanted to get the dog walked so I could get home to write plus on a good day I forget comma's and switch tenses. Maybe editing a wrinkled woman's words would be the kick my copy career needs. The octogenarian knew to ask me; something told her I would stop.

Her eyes danced as we took a spot on the bench outside her building and she produced a letter written in script. She tapped the paper:"Read, check English." The letter was 6 pages , though her handwriting large.

The first paragraph summarized her thwarted attempt to be a 'witness for a court case.' I did not find an error. The second and third focused on each obstacle she encountered on her way to Pearl St. The operator at the court hung up on her repeatedly. When she finally reached someone they gave her the same room number as her apartment. Interesting. She called another 5 times; they told her it was a different room, the room above her. That's the police officer's room who, by the way, harass her consistenly. Hmmm! I look at the building marquee. "Red Oak Senior Housing". At this point my nurses brain labels her as paranoid and delusional, but as the plot congeals so does the letter

The cab driver-she called him a taxist, how cute-didn't know the way, construction diverted traffic, and the police blocked her entrance. So she is allowed to leave and she got downtown, but she mistook common New York events as a greater power. It's possible she's mildly nuts. She was an hour late for court. She found the room just as the official closed the court. Every one started to file out, but not my slavic sprite. She walkered herself onto the platform shouting, "I am here to witness..." The official said "No, court is closed." The police gently asked her to leave. Her skinny stems stood firm. They removed her with force. In her letter she writes of other's 'witnessing' after her ejection. Is some authority trying to silence her? Maybe she's someone of importance or threat. She pleads with the organization. The letter ends.

Her lanquid writing held few mistakes. I found it pleasant, like a ride on a stream. I presume English is not her first language, yet she displayed a mastery of our word. I corrected little, a comma here, extra word there which she had me make directly on the page. As I walked my dog down the street, I imagined her returning to the floor nestled below the police office. She will rewrite the letter on fresh paper by candlelight, pausing only to dip her quill. Readying herself for the revolution. I gave her my number. Next time I hope her fingers are stained with ink.