I was concentrating on trying to win a Scrabble game on my Palm Pilot when the fellow sat down at the table next to me. He had a quarter in his left ear. I was sixteen points behind with five letters left, D T I A R and no tiles left to choose. He had the chicken salad. I was looking a free Y, thinking about playing DIARY and then hoping the Palm wouldn't go out when my brain said "Uh, did you say he had a quarter in his ear?" "Yes," I hissed at my brain,"A quarter. In his ear. Now start thinking about TIDAR or DRAT or something, we are in training here." (Vacation with the Scrabble addicts, uh, experts, is next week.) "Ooooh-kay," said my brain, "But that's interesting and he's going to sit there with a quarter in his ear and you are going to miss the story while you are trying to think of TRIAD, which is what you are trying to think of, duh." "Hmmm," I thought, "I could play TRIAD, but why would someone have a quarter in their ear?
So, I did the New York thing.
""xcuse me, do you mind if I ask you why you have a quarter in your ear?"
Meanwhile, smartboy brain is guessing Arthritis cure... or hex-keeper-away thingie, but the guy, older guy, maybe late sixties, a little crooked here and there with age, was shoveling in the chicken salad as if the tour bus had announced it was leaving in five minutes.
"In case, " he grinned widely, -he'd answered this one before-, "In case, I ever need a flop in a two-bit hotel." He picked up a piece of melba toast and crunched off a bit of the end.
His name is Albert _______. Seventy-eight years old, so, older than I had thought, and from the Lower East Side, so, had lived his whole life within twenty blocks from here, except for three years in the Army, so, what's with the quarter?
His old man, it turns out, had been a little nuts, a little frantic, during the depression. He wanted everyone of his kids, six of them, to have some money on them at all times. At least have car-fare, in case they got lost or something, like dragged off the playground or something. So, even as a six year old, he had to have at least a dime on him or the old man would get pissed. Well, sometimes the pants of a six year old don't have such good pockets, so he started putting the dime in his ear.
He kept it there at the time. It fit nicely, he could still hear good, and his old man could tell in a second that he, the kid, was in the dough.
He scrapes the last of the salad up with his fork pushing the limp lettuce to one side. So, he says, time goes on, prices go up, he gets bigger, he puts a quarter in his ear and starts using 'the flop in the two-bit hotel' line. He grins.
"I tried to stop once." he says,"I gave it up for about a week, but it didn't feel right. I put the two-bits in my ear and all's well with the world. I don't even remember that it's there unless someone like you asks about it. It's just something."
Yup. Just something which keeps our planet from spinning out of it's orbit.
I play TRIAD on the end of JOYS and go out. The Palm is stuck with eight points. I win by two.
What a beautiful Spring we are having! Look at that New York stoop garden!
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