As the rainy weather continues, the region’s outdoor recreational activity has been null.
But the wet and wild Curse of Zeke Marcus did not seem to faze a young woman on the 8:16 this morn. She boarded at White Plains. She was about 22 and Asian, but not in that easily identifiable (at least to me) Chinese or Japanese way. Pretty, hair in a pony tail, green raincoat, blue jeans and almost knee-high yellow Wellingtons.
She plopped a ginormous green backpack on the seat next to her. It was made by Nunatak and had a pouch for a large water bottle; the pouch’s elastic rim was decorated with tiny flags from many nations. She had a stuffed miniature Snoopy hanging from the bag, and a large white Frisbee occupying the front pouch.
I focused on the Frisbee. What prompted this women to haul the Frisbee along with her? Did she plan to get out for lunch today and toss it, despite a forecast that calls for rain every day until August (somewhere, Zeke is laughing!)? Was she a traveling backpacker, and the Frisbee was in the pack every day, in hopes that the next city…White Plains…New York…would offer a bit of greensward for a vigorous toss of the disc?
The Frisbee.
I threw the hippie disc a lot in my prior life. Langorous afternoons in college, when we should’ve been in Creative Writing 101 (thus the slipshod prose you’re reading at this moment). Making the most of newfound daylight savings time after work during those few months of post-college live-at-home, LIRR commuting (we said we’d never become one of Them!) with a few tosses in Heckscher Park. Even a little Ultimate in East River Park many years ago, hopeful that the barefoot guy we were covering didn’t step on a hypodermic.
The woman on the train looked out the window as each stop passed–Scarsdale, Fleetwood, Bronxville. She seemed to gauge the rain, to see if there might be a break in it just long enough to allow her to throw the disc.
Like the woman across from us, we even hauled the magic orb along in a backpack when we ventured to Europe. There was a friendly toss with a few local grungers on the village green Galway, who saved our bacon when they noticed some no-good street kids (they called them “knackers”) attempting to steal our packs.
Then true adulthood hits, and the Frisbee fails to make the move into the new house.
But wait.
Just yesterday, in fact, I compelled Little G to play outside a bit after work. We tossed around the freebie flippy Frisbee knockoff I’d gotten in some silly press kit, Little G squealing with delight as he chased after the thing.
Then Little Miss C wanted in on the action, howling with laughter every time Little G threw the thing, her peels blanketing the backyard with happiness like only a 13-month old girl can do. She even refused to go to bed for some time, clawing at the back door’s window to get out and Frisbee it up with the boys a bit more.
Yes, the Frisbee.
The rain continues, today, and tomorrow, and likely into the weekend. But perhaps you’ll get that brief window of clear weather, Frisbee Gal on the Train, and you’ll be blessed by a few of those moments of Zen when you and your Frisbee are one with the Earth.
[image: wikipedia]