Very nice
Best diary:
I was in the audience for a performance of the production of Rebecca Freckknall of “A Streetcar Named Desire” on the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
In the last minutes of the piece my heart was in my throat and the tears flowed. In my cloudy peripheral vision I saw a young woman next to me. Her shoulders gently vibrated while she cried. After the house lights rose and the ovation died, I turn to her.
“Can I give you a tissue?” I asked.
“Yes, actually,” she said. “That’s very nice.”
I gave her a tissue.
“The friendliness of strangers?” I said sheepishly, unable to help myself.
She took the tissue and blew her nose.
“Too fast,” she said.
– Deborah M. Brissman
Like diamonds
Best diary:
In 1954, when I was 11, I traveled from Washington, DC to New York City to visit my camp friend, Judy for a week.
Exciting my parents let me travel alone on the train. It was part of a planned ‘historical adventure’. Another component only came back by plane.
Judy’s widower father met me in Grand Central. I was waiting for him near the lost and established window. I remember looking up at the Sky mural on the ceiling and felt at home in the universe.
Judy lived in a huge, old-fashioned apartment opposite Central Park, with maybe 12-foot ceilings and long windows hung with dark red velvet curtains. She had cats and an older brother who played the violin.
Her father seemed old to me. He also seemed confident, that is probably the reason why my parents trusted him to host me.
He took us to museums and the public library and only let us explore through the metro. The family had received tickets for “Peter Pan” on Broadway, with Mary Martin as Peter.
A large storm with hard winds is set out on the day of the show. I was afraid we would miss the show, but Judy’s father was not put off.
We then walked and ran together to the theater in the rain, without umbrellas. As we did, wind gusts shatter a window above us and glasses showered at our heads as diamonds.
The piece was magical and the characters flew on wires. The next day I flew home at American Airlines. It was a very bumpy ride.
– Ruth Henderson
Het Guggenheim
Best diary:
My first day as a trainee in the Guggenheim Museum was my third day in New York City. Fresh from a plane from Scotland, I had rented a room at the 92nd Street Y because I didn’t know any soul in the city.
My internship Supervisor took me to lunch to celebrate my first day, and while we stood in line to get our food, we met a long, shy man, a former intern. When I sat down at a table, the former trainee did that too.
My supervisor got up and went to another table to talk to some colleagues. The former trainee, Austin, and I asked for a conversation. In the end we became part of a gang of friends that summer.
After the internship was over, I was hired full -time and a year later Austin became my roommate. Two years later he asked me on a date, and three years later we were married.
The group of friends I met that first summer came to our wedding and has since remained our New York family. These friendships are now strong for two decades. I think of them every time I am in the Rotunda of the Guggenheim.
– Michelle Millar Fisher
The tire scale
Best diary:
Ear telephones in and sunglasses on, I was a power walk home through Central Park.
Suddenly I saw that an older couple waved at me. It turned out that they were lost. They unfolded a paper card and asked for help finding Naumburg Bandshell.
I got on the map, nodded as if I understood and took my phone out to check Google Maps. As lucky, we went in the same way, so we decided to walk together.
They were on their way to hear an orchestral ensemble, and enlightened their faces when I said that I was playing the viola in a graduated medical student of Orchestra.
When we arrived at the band Shell, they surprised me with an extra ticket and insisted that I came to them. During a break we discovered that we only lived a few blocks apart on the Upper West Side. We shared a taxi house and during a spontaneous dinner a friendship took shape.
A year and a half later we still gather for dinner, a memory that some of the sweetest connections are those who come unexpectedly.
– Mollie Hobensack
Unacceptable
Best diary:
I went to a new Bagel store in Brooklyn Heights with my son.
When it was my turn to order, I asked for a cinnamon raisins bagel with whitefish salad and a slice of red onion.
The man behind the counter looked up at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
– Richie Powers
Read All recent entries and ours Submission guidelines. Reach us via e -mail diary@nytimes.com or follow @Nytmetro On Twitter.
Illustrations by Agnes Lee
Do you have a story about a memorable experience that took place during a childhood trip to New York City? Submit it below or share it in the comments. While you are there, participate in the conversation.
- Advertisement -
