Two things about New York City.

I was a junior in high school the first time I visited New York City.  My mom and I were nearing the end of a two week road trip to look at college campuses, and my dad flew in to meet us in The Big Apple.  I don’t remember where we stayed, or what we ate.  I don’t remember how long we were here, or what the weather was like.  I don’t remember seeing any of the sights or even shopping.  From that few days I remember only a couple of things.  

First?  We saw the Scarlet Pimpernel on Broadway – I remember waiting in line at TKTS to pick out what show we’d see.   And I remember sitting between my parents as the overture started and the curtain rose.

And second, I remember my dad buying a sandwich for a homeless man.  He didn’t stop and think about it, or talk much about it afterward.  We were walking down some street in midtown and a guy was standing outside a deli asking for change.  My dad stopped, asked him what he’d like to eat and went inside to buy it.  I remember thinking how kind that was.  No big show or presentation, just lunch for a guy who hadn’t had breakfast.  I also remember my dad saying something about how it’s always better to give someone food than to give them money, since you’re never sure what they’ll spend it on.  I carry granola bars in my bag for that reason.   Well, that and I get very crabby when I’m hungry, so it’s nice to have an emergency snack.

Today I had to take a mid-afternoon walk.  My day job has been pretty stressful this week and I realized at 2pm that I hadn’t eaten lunch or left my desk all day.  So I put on my coat, and hat and scarf and gloves, because spring is still nowhere to be found and went walking around Union Square.  I found myself in the Trader Joe’s so I could pick up something for my nephew dog, and a woman in line behind me was an inch away from starting a fist fight with the woman in line behind her.  For cutting.  The woman behind both of them.  Oh, only in New York.     After that, my sense of anxiety hadn’t lessened – if anything it was higher.  Outside the deli by my office asking for change was a homeless man I’ve seen before.  As I’ve done before I walked by him with a sense of purpose, and then, for whatever reason I remembered this one thing my dad did a million years ago and I went back and asked him what he’d like for lunch.  A meatball sandwich with mozerella- LOTS of mozerella later, I felt more like myself.    I may not be changing lives or singing on Broadway (yet) but at least I’m not picking fights at Trader Joes or living on the streets.  I don’t have much money, but I can definitely spare $6.53 for a man who hasn’t eaten in two days. 

May we all take a lesson from my Pop and be a little nicer to others– especially those who have less than us.