{"id":86049,"date":"2015-05-26T15:46:42","date_gmt":"2015-05-26T19:46:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=86049"},"modified":"2015-05-26T16:19:19","modified_gmt":"2015-05-26T20:19:19","slug":"the-symbol-of-hospitality","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/05\/26\/the-symbol-of-hospitality\/","title":{"rendered":"The Symbol of Hospitality"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Ferenczy,_Karoly_-_Pineapple_(1911)\"<\/a>

K\u00e1roly Ferenczy, Pineapple<\/i>, 1911.<\/p><\/div>\n

Yesterday, I was walking down the street, enjoying the warm weather and the city\u2019s relative emptiness\u2014a lot of people had gone away for the long weekend\u2014when I saw someone who looked familiar, an old man on a bench outside an empty asphalt playground. How did I know that face?<\/p>\n

It came to me all of a sudden. It was the old man I had seen some months ago in the supermarket<\/a>, yelling at the cashier and accusing all and sundry of elder abuse. Back then, his face had been contorted with impotent rage and the terror of senility.<\/p>\n

Now, as I stared at him, arrested, he met my eyes. \u201cCan I have a few pennies?\u201d he said. \u201cA few pennies for a pineapple?\u201d <\/p>\n

A lot of thoughts went through my head. First and foremost, that a pineapple would cost several hundred pennies. Second, that maybe he was living in the past, when pineapple had been much cheaper\u2014but even then, when a few pennies went further, a pineapple still would have been something of a luxury, right? And third, that rarely in this life are we given so clear a chance to redress a wrong.<\/p>\n

And I felt I had<\/em> wronged that old man in our last encounter; had I not rebuked and glared at him at the supermarket? Had I not failed to recognize the signs of dementia and treated him with the entitlement of youth? Yes. I had to make amends.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll buy you a pineapple!\u201d I said rashly.<\/p>\n

His response was not what I had hoped. In point of fact, he looked at me owlishly. The look was not wholly innocent of cunning.<\/p>\n

\u201cA sweet one,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOn it,\u201d I replied, for some reason both winking and shooting a finger at him like it was a pistol, an action that was in equal parts insinuating and menacing.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know where I\u2019d find the pineapple, but I was going to get it. As I peered around for a market or a fruit stand, song lyrics ran through my head:<\/p>\n

\n

If you brought me diamonds,
If you brought me pearls,
If you brought me roses
Like some other gents
Might bring to other girls,
It couldn\u2019t please me more
Than the gift I see;
A pineapple for me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Maybe he knew the words. After a few blocks, I found a sleazy urban supermarket. My heart leapt when I saw the Dole pineapples sitting regally in their bin, and to my delight, I found one that was slightly perfumed and gave a bit when I pressed its base for ripeness. I bore it out in triumph.<\/p>\n

I walked a full block before it occurred to me that maybe a whole pineapple wasn\u2019t really the most practical gift for an old man sitting without any visible implements on a park bench. Well, maybe he wanted it for later. But could such a man safely handle a knife? What would be better, surely, was one of those Styrofoam flats of prepared, fresh pineapple. I\u2019d need to find a market for that.<\/p>\n

This took an additional eight blocks or so, and then I added another few minutes to the trip when I decided that, just to be safe, I should probably get a can of pineapple, too, in case the ones I\u2019d found weren\u2019t that sweet. (The cut-up one looked pretty pale and woody.)<\/p>\n

By the time I got back to the bench, the old man was gone. He was nowhere in sight. I was intensely annoyed. Robbing me of my mitzvah! Leaving me with two pineapples plus a can of pineapple chunks in pure pineapple juice! \u201cIngrate,\u201d I muttered.\u00a0Our dealings were back where they\u2019d started.<\/p>\n

Sadie Stein is contributing editor of <\/em>The Paris Review, and the <\/em>Daily\u2019s correspondent.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Yesterday, I was walking down the street, enjoying the warm weather and the city\u2019s relative emptiness\u2014a lot of people had gone away for the long weekend\u2014when I saw someone who looked familiar, an old man on a bench outside an empty asphalt playground. How did I know that face? It came to me all of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[12511,18236,7667,18237,13662,18235,6664,15966],"class_list":["post-86049","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-city-life","tag-elder-abuse","tag-memorial-day","tag-old-men","tag-people","tag-pineapple","tag-shopping","tag-supermarkets"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nIn Search of a Peacemaking Pineapple<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"An encounter with a familiar face sends Sadie Stein in search of a pineapple: the symbol of hospitality...\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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