‘At one point I took a step and the book fell out of my hands’
‘Green mansions’
Dear Diary:
It was a summer evening in 1974 and I was on my way to visit my friend, who lived on Ocean Avenue near Avenue J in Brooklyn.
I came from Queens and read a paperback novel, “Green Mansions” by William Henry Hudson, while waiting on an elevated platform for the M train.
At one point I took a step and the book fell from my hands onto the rails.
Suddenly a tall young man jumped down, picked it up, climbed back up and handed it to me with a smile on his face.
It’s been almost fifty years and I still hope he never did something so dangerous again.
– Linda Grebanier
A job at Macy’s
Dear Diary:
One thing I always wanted to do was work at Macy’s in New York City. I was presented with this opportunity when business at my current job slowed down and management asked for volunteers to take unpaid leave.
I took a month and my husband and I went to New York City. We found a temporary apartment and I applied for a job at Macy’s over Christmas. I didn’t say I only wanted to work there for a month.
I was in my fifties at the time and started working with a group of men and women who were much younger.
The first day I learned how to operate the cash register and where everything was located in the store. It was so exciting.
When it was time for lunch, some younger women asked me to join them for lunch at McDonald’s. Wow. Of course I went. They mainly spoke Spanish. I didn’t understand them, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t be more excited when the day was over, I clocked out and headed for the door. Outside, the young women shouted at me: Come on, Alice. It’s this way to the subway.
They wanted me to come with them, but I just said no thank you. I lived across the street.
–Alice Redmond
On the Q
Dear Diary:
I was on the Q train, standing next to a mother and her two children, a patient older brother, perhaps ten or eleven years old, and his boisterous younger sister, who amused herself by hitting him.
“What did I just say?” their mother repeated every time the girl was hit, giving us all a minute’s rest.
Distracted for a few seconds, the girl turned to a tall, handsome stranger a few feet away.
“You look like Spider-Man,” she said, “like the actor who plays Spider-Man.”
He smiled.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
A few minutes later the girl repeated herself.
“You look like Spider-Man!” she said, as if for the first time.
When the train stopped at 72nd Street, the man got off. But just before he disappeared into the crowd, he turned around.
“You look like Wonder Woman,” he called back gently.
– Elinor Lipman
Perfect autumn evening
Dear Diary:
I visited New York City years ago from my native Australia and stayed with my cousin in the Village.
On a perfect autumn evening I went for a walk. As I passed a cafe, I saw through a window a guitarist standing on a small stage.
I went in and sat at a table with a man who was clearly enjoying the music. Unfortunately, the lights came on after just one song. The place was closed for the night.
Disappointed to go home, I said yes when my dining companion invited me to walk with him to the post office. He had to get something postmarked before midnight.
With post offices in Australia closing at 5pm, this felt like a decadent adventure.
“Australia,” he said. “I once lived in a building with an Australian artist above it. We became friends. He gave me a painting. I still have it.”
Who was the artist? I have asked.
Brett Whiteley, he said.
We said goodbye at the post office and I continued on my way through the perfect autumn night.
– Julie Geiser
Come to the rescue
Dear Diary:
One afternoon I was sitting at the desk in my third-floor apartment. The desk is located near a window that overlooks the building’s small courtyard.
“Hello,” I heard a man’s voice shout. “Hellooooo, is anyone there?”
This continued for a while. At first I wasn’t sure where it came from. But the shouting continued: “Hellooooo? Anyone?”
I looked out the window but couldn’t see much. I was thinking about answering the man when I heard a woman’s voice coming from upstairs.
“Hello,” the woman called. “Do you need help?”
“Yes,” the man shouted back. ‘I’m locked in the bathroom of apartment 1B. The doorknob fell off.”
“Oh no,” she cried. “I’ll call the supermarket.”
The man answered, but not loud enough for her to hear.
“What?” she screamed.
“I said,” he shouted, “I’m putting you in my will.”
There was a pause.
“Thank you,” the woman replied. “I’m in 9E.”
–Jim Whitaker
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