Look at this Day

The Adirondack Park in upstate New York covers six million acres. It is larger in area than Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, Glacier and Olympic National Parks combined. It contains more than six thousand miles of rivers and streams, over two thousand lakes, and five mountain ranges. These facts would be meaningless to me if Harrison hadn t died when he did.

I didn t understand why he wanted to live and practice law in that little town west of the Adirondacks. He requested no funeral, so when he died suddenly of a heart attack, I didn t go up there. Later, his friends had a memorial service, to which I was invited, but I didn t go up then either.

I wanted to go on believing that Harrison would soon come to New York for a weekend, as he often did. For the two years I d lived in New York City, I d felt secure because of Harrison. About every six weeks, I could count on him to arrive at his favorite midtown hotel, an older, less expensive one. Then we d explore the city on foot or by bus.

"Buses are better than cabs," Harrison said, "At every stop you have a chance to study people and buildings. Besides, buses are cheaper."

Harrison was frugal about everything but food. I was appalled at the prices he paid in some restaurants.

"Dining out isn t just food," he said. "It s an event."

With him it was. He took me to a rooftop restaurant. The waiters wore white gloves and carried on all the folderol that goes with white gloves. It unnerved me, but Harrison reacted as thought he d been attended by white-gloved waiters every day of his life. He winked at me.

"Enjoy the view," he said.

I preferred the day we walked in Chinatown. In midafternoon we stopped in a tiny restaurant that probably catered to people who lived nearby. There were no other customers. Neither the waitress nor any of the other five people in the room spoke English. The waitress pointed at an item on the menu and nodded her head. Harrison nodded back. A stream of saucers appeared, one at a time, each holding two or four of whatever it was. I recognized pork, chicken, shrimp, eggs, various vegetables, in endless combinations of coatings, sauces, herbs and spices. As soon as we finished one saucer, the waitress brought another.

Harrison, by his manner, made it clear how much we were enjoying the delicious feast. The waitress beamed and nodded and said words in her own language. Harrison took in everyone with his gestures and smiles until everyone was smiling and nodding. Finally he held up his hand and said, "Enough." Everyone nodded in understanding.

It was one of Harrison s favorite stories. He often told it, laughing and wondering how many more saucers would have appeared if he hadn t held up his hand. It s one of my favorite memories and I couldn t believe there wouldn t be any more like it.

Harrison left most of his estate to me. I knew I had to go to Miller Village to settle the estate and to sell his house. A letter from Edith Miller pushed me to it.