the purple chai | ||
now :: then :: me :: them | ||
a fifty-something under-tall half-deaf school librarian in the jersey suburbs with two grown kids and time on her hands Libraries will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no libraries.
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Got One! 311 |
12.16.2003 |
7:59 pm |
We're back from the airport, with no more inconvenience than the obligatory traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike. Although it would also have been smart of me to realize that an international flight getting in at 5:15 means the passengers need an hour to get their luggage, go through customs, and come out the international arrivals gate. But it was fun to watch. (Although not as wonderful as Heathrow was in Love, Actually. This was still Newark, after all.) It was delightful to watch people coming out and meeting loved ones. Flights arrived from Bombay and Rome before R's from London. I saw others like her, young people coming home and meeting their parents. Several older couples who grabbed babies out of their parents' arms, clearly seeing grandchildren for the first time. And for some reason, about a half dozen very small and elderly looking Indian ladies in lovely saris, being met by grown sons or daughters: mama comes to America at last. |
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