‘I Was Driving Downstairs on My Building’s Service Elevator’

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Dear Diary:

I was driving downstairs on my building’s company elevator with Mike, the elevator operator.

Abruptly, he stopped at 1 of the lower floors.

As the doorway opened, he arrived at out his hand.

An more mature girl who was standing there achieved in, keeping a jar that she seemingly hadn’t been in a position to open.

Mike took the jar, opened it and handed it back again with a smile.

“Thank you,” she explained.

He shut the door and we ongoing down.

— Anne Oshman

Expensive Diary:

My sister, who moved to California a lot more than 30 decades in the past, arrived for a go to. Emotion nostalgic, we determined to go to Coney Island, in which we grew up.

Strolling together the boardwalk, we encountered a small crowd gathered close to a avenue performer. He was participating in guitar and accompanied by about 10 parrots of several hues, designs and sizes that have been singing along with him, to everyone’s delight.

My sister could not comprise her enthusiasm.

“Oh, my gawd!” she blurted out in her distinctive Brooklyn accent.

A yellow-naped Amazon that was the most talented singer in the troupe stopped singing.

“Oh, my gawd!” it exclaimed in a perfect imitation of my sister, repeating it about and in excess of and opening its beak broad to place a lot more emphasis on “gawd.”

The guitarist attempted, but he could not coax the chicken to abandon its new catchphrase.

— Arthur Mann

Dear Diary:

I was on an uptown No. 1 in November 2013 when an older girl acquired on at 34th Street. I offered her my seat, and she graciously accepted.

At 66th Street, she rose to get off and started to wander previous me.

“Let me guess,” I stated. “You’re likely to the opera at the Met.”

She smiled.

“I’m in the orchestra,” she replied.

I was on my way to that night’s efficiency, and we walked with each other toward Lincoln Centre.

“I participate in the glass harmonica, an instrument invented by Benjamin Franklin,” she claimed.

As we parted, I said I would attempt to arrive down to the orchestra pit and get a glimpse at her instrument. Then I went off to fulfill my granddaughter Amanda.

We had lots of time prior to the general performance, so we walked down to the entrance, peered into the pit and spotted my subway companion.

She seemed up at us and smiled.

“Oh,” Amanda mentioned, “a glass harmonica! That was invented by Benjamin Franklin.”

I turned to her and stared.

Past Oct, I study an obituary for Cecilia Brauer, 97 and a Metropolitan Opera Orchestra member, and recalled the time we met.

— Thomas J. Russo

Dear Diary:

I traveled to New York Metropolis previous slide for a writing workshop with 8 girls from about the nation. It was hosted by a well-known creator at her property in Washington Heights.

I regarded a resort on the Upper West Facet. How tricky could it be to navigate the subway to 155th, I considered as I clicked “book” for a nonrefundable room.

More difficult than I expected.

Anticipating a welcoming out-of-towner would be remaining nearby, I emailed the team, hoping to obtain a subway associate, only to get quite a few versions of “I wish I could assistance.”

Then a female who lived in Chelsea replied, featuring to Citi Bike the 50-furthermore blocks to my hotel and hop on the subway with me from there.

I mentioned I would be waiting with espresso and requested what kind she desired.

When the morning arrived, the climate was ideal for late September. I held the coffees, 1 in each individual hand, even though I waited outdoors the hotel. Carelessly, I took a sip from the cup that was hers, and then nervously greeted her with my confession.

With a slight chuckle, she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. We bustled by way of the crowded 72nd Avenue station and down the steps to the 1.

Before long we arrived at our vacation spot, a cozy prewar condominium loaded with the scent of warm blueberry scones, the chatter of spirited gals and the audio of a Newfoundland barking every time a boat went by on the Hudson.

And, of class, there was a French push for topping off our half-guzzled lattes.

— Elizabeth Weiner

Dear Diary:

I was hurrying out of the Canal Street station when I saw him: a teenage boy, hunched about a table and methodically folding origami roses to sell.

The roses — blue, yellow, red and each and every coloration in in between — had been fanned out about him in stacks that ended up by now four or 5 flowers deep.

I was late, so I did not pause. But as I walked absent, I questioned how he would fare that day. I hadn’t observed anybody else supplying him even a passing look as they left the station. How frequently does he make a sale? Was he out in this article each weekend?

Afterwards, I was in SoHo walking powering a guy and a female who ended up transferring along slowly and gradually, their pinkies joined. My eye caught a blue origami rose sticking out of her backpack.

I smiled. It was a twofer: a sale and really like in a single.

— Connie Extended

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Illustrations by Agnes Lee

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