Ralph’s butternut-squash head hangs down. The yellow kitchen light reflects off his oily bald crown. He looks at the deep blue stain on the thigh of his jeans. Last spring, the pen he kept in his hip pocket sprung a leak. It was the one he used to fill out invoices for his handyman jobs. “Ralph the Right Man for the Job” was printed on the pen’s side. He had bought 500 of them. He hopes no one else’s “Ralph” pen leaked. He hopes Rose will feel better soon. But Ralph is old enough to know that hoping does no good. He has to accept what he can’t change and change what he knows he can improve. Rose’s outlook he can probably improve.

They were married at age 19 in 1966 at a VFW in South Brooklyn. He knew her so well she was like a puzzle piece he could always shape himself around. He knew how to support her no matter what she said, no matter what was on her mind. They had evolved together over a lifetime.

“And there’s nothing of me anywhere else,” she says fingering a neon yellow square of yarn she’d knitted together and used like a trivet. He looks up at her. She is missing something; she had been for a long time. But now the deficiency had gone on too long. He knew what she needed—a meaningful job.

When he accepted the offer for early retirement last year, he drummed up a handyman business lickity split. He liked to help people and finally could do so without the beast to feed. His longtime albatross: the cable company. The cable company just wanted to make money. Ralph just wanted to make people happy. The pursuits overlapped when he was able to fix people’s cable connections without having to charge them more for the service. This didn’t happen nearly often enough for his liking. Then came the Internet. Cable customers wanted to ask him all about their modems, their connection speed, their WiFi, and to Ralph it was all gibberish. The cable company said training Ralph and the other older gentleman wasn’t a good investment. The cable company was done with Ralph, and Ralph was done with the cable company. As his pension kicked in, his next endeavor was clear. He made himself into the ultimate Mr. Fix-It—a hero in Carhartts. He made people happy by making their sliding doors slide, drains drain, creaky door that woke the visiting grandchildren quiet as a yawn. His work lived on in all of the problems he solved with his calluses. He was improving people’s lives. But Rose? He couldn’t say that Rose found the same satisfaction in work.

Rose cleaned homes—the same homes over and over again. When she’d leave a home smelling of bleach and ammonia, the walls unscuffed, the wood floors shiny, the windows translucent and streak-free, the stubborn spot of petrified burnt onion off the stovetop, she felt accomplished. Task done. Goals met. But then she’d go to that same house a week or two later, and it would be a mess. Her hard work from before non-existent. And it was this Sisyphean battle that kept the money coming in. If families didn’t ruin her work, they wouldn’t need her anymore. Ralph knew it disappointed her.

Ralph knows Rose needs to hear him say something. She needs to hear that he has heard her. He pushes his brain hard to come up with something helpful to say. But he comes up empty. “It’s like how you can’t remember something when you’re trying to remember it,” Ralph says.

“What?” Rose isn’t sure if she should be excited, relieved or frustrated by what he just said. A twinge of hope picks her head off her hand. She looks at him expectantly.

“Oh, shoot. Just thinking out loud, I guess.”

“Oh.” Rose’s eyes go back down.

Snowy Subway Stair Running

Originally this event was the New York City version of the luge, bobsled and skeleton competitions present in the international Winter Olympics. The event was accidentally facilitated by the Metropolitan Transit Authority, which wasn’t quick to clear snow away from subway stairs. The result? A perfectly, slippery hill. In the first several NYC Winter Olympic Games, competitors would race down the snowy stairwells wearing greased up leather, traction-free soles. The goal was to be the first competitor to arrive on the subway platform ready to board a train. But after a fractured coccyx, several dislocated shoulders (from grabbing onto a railing during a fall) and a broken neck, the Olympic Committee changed the nature of the competition. Now it more closely resembles a track and field event. Competitors must run down the stairs without slipping as quickly as possible. Each competitor must make a foot print on every step. Tracking the footprints has been made easier by the regulation that competitors wear shoes with their initials stamped into the soles.

Identify/Save the Homeless Person

In New York City, there are 37,282 total homeless individuals. Of this, 7,566 are single adults. To stay warm in the frigid weather, these adults cover themselves with tarps, jackets, blankets, newspapers, boxes and other items. This creates a mound of stuff that to passersby might appear to be garbage waiting for pick-up. Clearly, this is not always the case. In this Olympic event, courageous, competitive altruists rush through the city trying to spot homeless men and women. They receive one point for each homeless person they correctly identify from 50 feet away. Once the identification has been made, the competitor must sprint to the homeless individual. The competitor must then quickly assess whether the homeless person needs immediate medical attention. If so, the competitor calls 911 and waits for the arrival of an ambulance. If not, the competitor must bring the individual to a shelter that has vacancies. Shelters with vacancies can be identified by approved cell phone use. This process continues for a grueling 24 hours. The competitor who has saved the most homeless people wins. Scoring is tracked by Olympic judges who follow the competitor throughout the day. Judges are assigned to a competitor in pairs to avoid exhaustion.

Puddle Jumping

Puddle jumping tests agility, speed and leg strength. It is most similar to the long jump event in the international Summer Olympic Games. In this event, competitors start by standing at an intersection made impassable by a giant puddle. When the walk sign lights up, the competitors must jump over the puddle from a stand still. Points are given for distance; points are subtracted for splash. The intersection used for the event is selected by the Committee. Because there are so many of these puddles, the event has never been held at the same location twice. This year’s event will take place in Williamsburg, Brooklyn at the intersection of Lorimer and Meeker.

Subway Balancing

This is the only year-round event. It is a favorite in the city and not dependent on the weather. In this event, competitors must ride a subway train standing up without holding on to anything for as long as possible. The competitor who goes the longest without steadying themselves via pole, a person, or wall likely wins the event. In recent years, the Committee has ramped up the difficulty by requiring that participants play Tetris on their cell phones while balancing in the train. Once all competitors have completed their ride, Tetris scores are analyzed by the judges. Competitors with the top three Tetris scores, weighted for difficulty, get 3 minutes added to their scores. The record holder is a 15-year-old boy who honed his balancing skills breakdancing through subway cars for handouts.

Eating: Hot Ramen

Once a year, New Yorkers flock to Coney Island to watch Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest. But that’s not enough to satisfy New York’s taste for eating competitions. After much demand from the public, the Olympic Committee created its own signature eating event. Each year, the food is different, but it’s always popular New York fare. This year competitive eaters must gorge themselves on bowls of hot, pork-based Ramen. Other years, competitors have had to eat cannolis, roasted nuts, cheese pizza and pretzels. A big upset took place 17 years ago when the Committee selected coffee as the food. After the event, several over-caffeinated participants created havoc. Acidic urine burnt holes in the stage. One innocent bystander was killed when a participant who was sprinting to the nearest toilet literally ran him over.

The Games

Ten winter sports events have been announced as part of the 2010 New York City Winter Olympics. The three sports categorized as endurance sports are: Bare-Legged, High-Heeled Outdoor Line Waiting (women only); Outdoor Smoking Endurance; and Winter Weather Advisory Cab Hailing. The four sports categorized as speed sports are: Narrow, Crowded Sidewalk Sprints; the Icy Sidewalk Relay; Snowy Subway Stair Running; and Identify/Save the Homeless Man. The two sports categorized as agility sports are Puddle Jumping and Subway Balancing, a year round event. The most anticipated sport each year is a category in and of itself: Eating. This year, contestants will devour large, hot bowls of Ramen noodle soup.

Bare-Legged, High-Heeled Outdoor Line Waiting (Women’s only)

New York’s February Fashion Week, officially called Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, inspired this endurance sport in which only the toughest fashionistas can compete. The sport is meant to replicate the circumstances of waiting outside in a long line to get into a popular club in midwinter. In this event, women in high heels, short skirts and absolutely no nylons must stand outside on a blustery sidewalk at night for as long as possible. The winner is the woman who endures the longest. In 2010, the Olympic Committee has selected a location just west of the popular Meatpacking District, on the western edge of the West Side Highway. At this location, buildings do not block competitors from the wind. As the event has evolved, competition has increased. Scores are weighted for difficulty, and as a result, the heels of the shoes have been getting increasingly high. This year it is expected competitors will wear shoes with heel height a minimum of 6 inches. No woman has won the competition in lower than 4-inch heels. Women can huddle together, but not touch each other’s legs or feet. Anyone found with a heating pad in the shoe is disqualified. The world record is held by Icelandic model Katrín Evudóttir who withstood temperatures reaching real-feel 3-degrees Fahrenheit for 13 hours. No competitors have made it until sunrise when the sun would warm the extremities and potentially give the women an advantage. The most common injury associated with the event is toe amputation.

Outdoor Smoking Endurance (Women and Men)

While some urban legends point to Fashion Week as the inspiration for this event, the real impetus was the legions of smokers standing outside office buildings. In this event competitors must skillfully differentiate between the exhalation of smoke and the exhalation of steam—an ability likely gained after years of practicing the cold-weather exhale. Those who keep exhaling beyond the point of releasing the smoke from the lungs are often handicapped by affects of hyperventilation. They are often disqualified after becoming dizzy and resting their hand on a wall or the ground for support. Another risk for disqualification is hand-numbness and inability to light the next cigarette. Rules require a lighter or match to be used, and the window between cigarettes must be under 35 seconds. The winner is the smoker who can smoke the most number of cigarettes outside without being disqualified. Construction workers have long held the advantage in the men’s competition. Secretaries have long held the advantage in the women’s competition.

Winter Weather Advisory Cab Hailing

This event incorporates speed, strategy and endurance. Competitors must withstand bitter, winter weather, choose the best position at which to hail a cab, and must get into that cab before other competitors do. This last step requires not only speed, but also strategy. If the cab isn’t able to stop near enough to the hailer, the cab could be intercepted by another competitor. The Olympic Committee chooses the intersection in Manhattan. In 2010, the committee chose the busy, four-way stop at 42nd Street and Broadway. This event has been the focus of much criticism for a few reasons. First scantily clad women have an advantage in the sport. All female, gold-medal winners have won by revealing their lingerie to the cab driver. The all-time record has been held for a decade by a woman with size triple-D breasts. On the other hand, Hispanic and African American men have a disadvantage, as cab drivers have long been wary of picking them up out of safety concerns. Only skinny, Caucasian men dressed in white-collar attire have placed in this event in the men’s competition. Groups protecting the rights of all impacted demographics protest the event on an annual basis.

Narrow, Crowded Sidewalk Sprints

New York County is the most densely populated county in the country. When sidewalks become narrowed by piles of shoveled snow, pedestrian travel requires increased agility. This event is comprised of three, block-long sprints during evening rush hour. Two of the sprints are on numbered streets and extend about 200 feet. The third sprint extends across an avenue block, approximately 1000 feet in length. Competitors must zigzag, swerve around, or hop over any obstacles in the path including other pedestrians. A participant is disqualified if he or she jumps off the sidewalk to the street or if he or she bumps into another person without stopping and saying, “Excuse me. Are you ok?” Any damage done to the street or property, including knocking over of a city garbage can or knocking off a car’s side mirror, is a deduction of points. Extra points are given to competitors carrying grocery bags or other bulky, heavy items. Extra points are no longer given to competitors carrying children, as this practice was banned after little Maggie suffered whiplash in 2007.

Icy Sidewalk Relay

After a snow storm, ice on New York City sidewalks isn’t smooth like that found on an ice rink. Rather it’s often bumpy, similar to moguls found in skiing. In this competition, teams of four run across extended patches of bumpy, New York City sidewalk ice. Cleats, crampons or Yaktrax shoe soles are not permitted. Team members must wear common-man rain or snow boots. No baton is used as in traditional track and field relays. Rather team members hand-off a “stolen” purse purchased from a local thrift store and approved by the Olympic Committee. Sidewalks used for the event are closed to the general public until the race is completed, and the sidewalk is de-iced.

More Sporting Events…

Since I moved to New York City in the mid-1970s, I’ve dreamed that all of Manhattan—an island of such amazing history and illustrious man-made beauty—would become as beautiful close up as it looks from afar. To me, the skyline at night looks like the crown jewels of England. The Empire State Building standing up like the apex of the Imperial State Crown. The glistening lights from the lower buildings shine against the dark like the rest of the diamond-encrusted coronal. I’ll briefly digress to tell you a story. I am one of the lucky Americans. I descended directly from the Pilgrims. It’s actually not that unusual for white, Anglo-Saxons. But those of us, who have traced our lineage and are aware of our good fortune, look at the Brits with a sentimental eye. During my tour of duty in World War II, I took a respite on the motherland. But, alas, I wasn’t able to see the jewels—they had been moved to Windsor Palace for safekeeping. Years later with my wife, 12-year-old daughter and 14-year-old son, I journeyed back to the great United Kingdom and finally admired the crown jewels’ beauty. I’ll never forget, my daughter said, “Daddy, can you get me one of those for Thanksgiving?” (We trade presents on Thanksgiving instead of Christmas because that’s a bigger holiday for us—it’s our heritage after all.) I responded, “I wish I could my little princess.” Today she teaches English to immigrants (the legal kind) in the Bronx. She’s still my princess. Now you understand the gravity of what I mean when I tell you how beautiful I find the New York City skyline. It is the crown jewel of these United States of America.

But up close, the city looks like a dump. It has long looked like a dump. Through the promises of each mayor, I have kept hoping the dirt would wash off all the building windows, the drug dealers would leave the parks, the strip clubs would leave Times Square, the dark splotches of decade-old gum would be pried from the sidewalks, the graffiti would be washed away, the pushy men who forcefully clean car windshields at a stoplights and then demand payment would be jailed, the beggars would be fed (or moved south to a warmer, more appropriate location like Florida), the homeless people would be housed (or moved to Florida with the beggars), and (I add this in honor of recent news of a great descent) every working girl would be the expensive, discrete kind like that of Eliott Spitzer, not the everyday gold-digging hookers with whom Tiger Woods associated. While you and your brethren, particularly Mr. Giuliani, did remove the drug dealers from the parks, the “working girls” from Times Square, and the windshield washers from the stoplights, there is still a lot to be done. The sidewalks must be cleaned. The subways are filthy. Graffiti is still a prominent element of the landscape. Homeless people and beggars still abound. I dream of a clean and well-to-do Manhattan—doormen in the foyer of every residential building. How do I expect these changes to be financed? Sales tax. Of course that’s not feasible now. In spite of the influx of Blue-Chip retailers (for which I most heartily commend you for attracting to this city), there are still too many of the lower middle class—and even lower—living on our island who don’t spend enough to supply the city with sufficient levels of tax. But you, my good sir, are on the right track.

That Union Square once the protest grounds of laborers—what an ugly association—now has a Best Buy as well as a Barnes & Noble, Whole Foods, DSW, Forever 21, Babies “R” Us, Staples and Petco, I couldn’t thank you more. I can now buy all that I can carry. Ah-this brings me to an important suggestion. I’m no city planner or architect. But what if you made the center of the square, the part that’s still a park, into a parking lot! Then shoppers could buy even more than they could carry! As far as I’m concerned that would be a great boost to my quality of living, and imagine the sales tax you’d bring in. Quite a windfall!

He lost his last job at an underground subway magazine stand after he yelled at a regular customer, a commuter. That particular evening, a Tuesday, the American business man had decided to pick up and flip through three magazines. Akram fumed from behind the counter. There was a strict no-reading policy. This wasn’t a library or a waiting room at a doctor’s office. When he reached for the fourth, Akram snapped at him, “You read, you pay.”

“What? Where’s Ostrinki?” he barked with a sharp New Jersey.

“He’s not here. Just me,” Akram said.

“Well, I’ll see him tomorrow then.” He stepped away and waited for his train about 6 feet away from Akram. Bored and impatient he turned to scowl at him every few moments until his train barreled into the station.

Akram’s day off was Wednesday. The businessman would definitely see Ostrinki. And Akram wouldn’t be there to defend himself. And he did see Ostrinki. And Akram was fired on Thursday.

So on Thursday afternoon, Akram went to the branch of the New York Public Library nearest his home in Queens. He sat down at the computer. He knew how to google. The librarian had taught him how on his first visit. “That,” she said, “would be the key to everything he needed to know.” She also wrote down a list of words that he might need. He took the small, folded square of scrap paper out of his pocket and chose a few words: new, york, city, job, no, experience, and necessary.

After clicking around for a bit, he landed on one that gave him hope. It read, “part-time, immediate, earn $275 per week, no experience necessary.” It was to distribute flyers. He wasn’t exactly sure what flyers were. But he knew about distribution of product, distribution of responsibility in big business, distribution of wealth. He felt confident that he could do this.

So he dug a quarter out of his pocket and called the listing’s number from a pay phone outside. A man’s voice on the other end of the line told Akram to show up at Psychic Sylvia’s home office on the second floor of a building in midtown Manhattan at 7:30am tomorrow morning.

Akram was elated. He went straight home to prepare for Friday. When he arrived, he unbuttoned his brown shirt, threw his arms open and said to his wife and 12- year-old boy, “I have a better job now.” He then asked his wife to wash the shirt in the shared hallway bathroom of their studio apartment. His son was given the responsibility of wiping off subway grime from his briefcase. Akram then removed his pants and folded them with very neat, tight creases over a metal hanger. Comfortable in his undershirt and briefs, he fell asleep early.

The next morning at 7:28 a.m. Akram walked up one flight of stairs near the street corner of Madison and 28th Street. He entered a room draped with red, pink and purple velour. It hung over the chairs. It hung over a lamp. It hung from curtain rods. It was everywhere. An electric fountain bubbled loudly in the corner. But Sylvia, the psychic, and Jack, her husband, looked a bit more normal, Akram assessed. Jack wore jeans and Sylvia wore a flowery, long skirt.

The first thing Jack did after the obligatory hello was to walk in a tight circle around Akram, size him up. Jack saw an Arabic man in his forties with some dandruff. But he was tall and therefore noticeable, eye-catching. He was also pretty clean cut, well dressed in brown office attire. Akram wouldn’t offend passersby. Sylvia stared at Akram from the doorway. She was probably reading his spirit. That, he assumed, was her strong suit.