12/12/2020 0 Comments 24 Hours in New York CityAfter I finished my career job in appraisal management in 2011, I was fortunate to attract an interesting side gig. Approximately once a month, for three years, I took a plane to some city east of the Mississippi and audited foreclosure law firms for various banks. I never knew precisely how long the audit would take, so I budgeted extra time, just in case it was necessary. When I flew to NYC to audit a law firm on the lower end of Manhattan, it turned out that I was able to start early and the law firm was very prepared so the audit ended early. I had already booked the hotel for the night and a plane for the following afternoon. This gave me the late afternoon, the evening, and the following morning to explore this part of New York. Let’s call it 24 hours of “free” time. What to do? I knew that my very favorite magazine, called Parabola, that I have been reading since the 1970s, was somewhere in the area. I decided to visit their office and simply say thanks. Also, it gave me a nice endpoint as I walked and “inhaled” the city’s sounds, sights and rhythms. I had no idea if anyone would be around since it was already getting a bit late in the day but that was quite secondary. When I finally reached their building and walked up the stairs, the receptionist told me that they had recently left for day. I left a little “thank you” note. First task accomplished, now what? I have a cousin, Don, who lives relatively close to where I was. I have seen him infrequently since our childhood days when we played as cousins. We have always had a mutual fondness for each other. I called and left a message on his cell. He is a medical doctor and I had no idea of his schedule. I was feeling a bit tired (it had been a long day), so I wished to find a nice space for renewal. St Patrick’s Cathedral was too far away and it occurred to me that there might be a meditation center nearby. Sure enough, the New York Insight Meditation Center was within easy walking. I found the building, took the clanky elevator to the top, 10th floor, and entered the reception area. No one was at the desk when I entered. There was a place to leave shoes and I walked quietly into the meditation hall, a large open space with very high windows and couches along the edges. I was the only one in the room. At that moment, the sun’s energy was flooding the room through the high windows. I found a place on the side, selected one of the couches and sat, breathing in the quiet. Maybe 10 minutes later, a woman entered. She began to do her yoga practice and it was a thing of beauty to watch as she moved seamlessly from posture to posture. Eventually she finished and departed, and soon after, I left feeling refreshed. When I checked my cell phone, there was a warm and inviting message from Don, “Hi Cuz! I would love to see you and have supper together.” I walked to his doctor’s office, and after he finished his work, we walked to his home in Greenwich Village. Don, his wife, Holly and I walked to their favorite little Japanese restaurant. During our chat, I reminisced about attending Stuyvesant High School as a teenager. In my day, it was all boys and focused on math and science. There was also a never- ending smell of rotten eggs because the chemistry lab was located below the entrance lobby. I had read in alumnae letters that the school had moved to a new building. They told me that the new Stuyvesant was actually close to my hotel. I decided I would visit the school. Next morning, as I ventured toward Stuyvesant High School, my walk took me through the Tribeca area. It had all the vibes of being a cool section with posters for festivals, lectures, performances, political action, and lots of coffee places. Entering the school, there was a large area with security guards / police and metal detectors. I spoke to one security guard and told her that I had been a student at Stuyvesant 50 years ago, was in NYC just for morning, and wondered if I might visit. After hearing my tale, she was kind but quite direct that no one can simply wander around or see a class without an escort. We were getting along well by that point so I asked if she could be my escort for a short visit. She laughed and said no but would try to find someone related to the alumnae office. She pointed to a bench in the middle of lobby and told me I could wait there. Thus, there I sat and then wandered just a little for more than ½ hour seeing the students, reading the wall posters about all sorts of school activities and opportunities, including science competitions, political action as well as school spirit. The security guard eventually came over and told me that she could not find anyone to show me around. I thanked her for allowing me to sit on the bench and I was very happy for the experience When I had gone to Stuyvesant, in the early 1960s, the student body was mostly Jewish as was the principal. Now the student body, at least from my informal watching, was mostly Asian. I found it so in keeping with my impressions from India that the new waves of cultures who focused on education could now take advantage of a specialized public school for bright kids. Even the principal was Chinese at that moment. It was just wonderful to see these wide-eyed teenagers, both boys and girls now, with no smell of rotten eggs, with ear buds, bounding through the halls.. I walked back through Tribeca to my hotel stopping for a latte, got a ride to the airport and then home.
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David FeldmanDog walker, Dog Mediator, Father, Husband, Categories |