‘We joked that maybe we could see each other from our window’
Same block
Dear Diary:
In the early 1980s I left New York to study in Ohio. My roommate was from Chappaqua, NY
As Thanksgiving approached, we discovered that we would both be in town for the holiday. Her father had moved there after her parents’ divorce.
When I asked her where he lived, she said 72nd Street between First and Second Avenues. We laughed because my parents lived on that block.
The day after Thanksgiving, my boyfriend called and we joked that maybe we could see each other from the window.
I put the phone down. When I looked out the window, up and down, I didn’t see her.
I picked up the phone again.
“Look directly across the street!” she said.
I did, and there she was.
– Sarah Strauss
Mango slices
Dear Diary:
My son and I rode the Bx12 bus into Manhattan after a day at the Bronx Zoo. It was busy and traffic on Fordham Road moved at its usual glacial pace.
Opposite us sat a boy and a girl, both about 7 years old. They ate mango slices from plastic cups and broke the silence on the bus with an animated conversation in Spanish.
Suddenly the bus hit a bump and the girl’s mango flew across the floor.
With a short groan of disappointment, she started picking up the mango pieces. As she did so, her brother started cackling, which caught the attention of most of the passengers.
It took the girl some time to pick up the scattered fruit. When she finished, a man sitting a few rows in front walked back to her.
“I would like to buy that mango from you,” he said.
He handed her a five dollar bill and picked up the cup of mango she had picked from the floor.
“Buy another one,” he said.
– Judas Ziliak
Soggy Shakespeare
Dear Diary:
A few years ago I waited in an extremely long line for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park. Just as they were being distributed, the heavens opened in an unexpected downpour.
As I waited for the light to turn green to cross Central Park West, a woman with three young children and who had also been given tickets was waiting to cross as well.
When the light changed, I took the youngest child’s hand and we all walked across together.
The woman asked if I lived nearby. When I told her I lived in Brooklyn and had decided not to go home that night before the show, she invited me to her small apartment on Amsterdam Avenue.
When we got there, she offered me a robe while she threw my clothes in the dryer. And there I was, a complete stranger in her living room with her little ones, while she took a shower.
– Aliza Avital
Reliable ride
Dear Diary:
The year was 1974. I was 25 and taking my first business trip to New York with the president of the company where I worked.
It was a big deal in my embryonic career, and I talked about it on the cab ride to the John Street office. The driver was a family man from Queens with daughters about my age. He asked when I was flying back.
Within a week I told him.
He offered to pick me up and take me back to Kennedy Airport.
The customer visit went well, and when it was time to leave for the airport, the company president said he would arrange a car service to take me there.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” I said, explaining the arrangement I had made with the taxi driver.
The company director dismissed me as naive and instructed his secretary to call a car. A few minutes later she came back surprised.
“There’s a Mr. Papadopoulos in the lobby looking for Ms. Lacey to take her to the airport?” she said.
I smiled and pretended not to notice the surprised look on the big man’s face.
“I’m sure my driver will want to hear about my trip,” I said, thanking the secretary as I threw my coat over one arm and grabbed my shiny new suitcase. “And I don’t want to disappoint him.”
—Charlene Lacey
Where to eat?
Dear Diary:
I was standing on the corner of 96th Street and Central Park West after an intense hour of tennis on the courts of Central Park.
As I stood there, I heard three older women talking. They were heading to the Lincoln Center area and decided where to eat when they got there.
Two of them had settled on a well-known restaurant, but the third vetoed their choice because she didn’t like anything on the menu.
“But you said you weren’t going to eat,” one of the women said.
“Yes,” she said, “but still…”
– Richard Hirsch
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