On Friday I visited with a pretty well-known author, someone I went to college with, in his family's brownstone in lower Manhattan. When I arrived and pressed the buzzer, a voice responded that its owner would be right there. I wasn't sure it was the writer's voice, but then you know how those buzzers distort people's voices. Nonetheless, I was surprised when the door was opened by...
The butler. Or perhaps he was not a butler, strictly speaking, but rather a valet or some other kind of manservant. At any rate, he was clearly in the writer's employ. It was, in my time here on this big blue marble, a first.
The butler/valet escorted my into a very lovely library and offered me a sparkling water, which was served in a crystal type glass, which was very welcome, because I was rather sweaty from having walked south from Rockefeller Center after visiting with a former colleague because I had the time, needed the exercise and wanted to have a look at more of my beloved Manhattan. It was a beautiful day for it and many memories continued to flow past as I walked the streets. It was particularly nice to see such rareties as the storefront of a hat wholesaler on the west side of 6th Ave somewhere around 26th.
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