My "comfort-food" day

No, this is not an entry about my favorite comfort foods--I did that last December (feel free to check that out if you are interested--mmm mmm good is all I have to say), so I am not that full of repeat episodes. But yesterday was a metaphorical day just like eating that steaming bowl of macaroni-and-cheese-of-your-dreams...the entire day was one dollop after another of comforting, wonderful, nostalgic images, activities, connections and rewards.

I am in New York City right now--rekindling my love affair with this town--and yesterday was just one of those casual days, not too many plans-set-in-stone, and as it turned out, each turn in the day was some re-creation of earlier loves and joys of being in this city.

The first time I spent significant time in New York City was December of 1985, my senior year in college when I came and spent a week with my best friend Steve and our freshman wunderkind Sarah. I adored every second of that visit, and I have spent the last 20-some years dreaming of coming back, planning to come back, and reveling in this often-ludicrously-expensive, sometimes-dirty, and seemingly faceless urban monument. People in Cincinnati have occasionally asked me why I love NYC so much (right here could be a song break: that groovy bridge in the Annie show, "NYC--just got here this morning! Three bucks! Two bags! One me!") and one of the great truths in this love affair is that I have never had to work or secure housing in Manhattan. I came as a starry-eyed tourist, returned as a starry-eyed graduate student with a fellowship and stipend, returned as a suburbanite visiting every weekend the brothels of New York culture. New York, for me, has only been about self-indulgence (well, there was the horrible class trip with Gail in 1988 with the most wretched students imaginable...that was not self-indulgence, but more self-flagellation...but I digress). And yesterday was that juicy burger of a day.

I am staying with my friend Christy on the Upper West side. Christy and I have been attached in some way since 1994. For years on end her apartment was the pied-a-terre I enjoyed as a weekend-getaway from Hackley. After some time on the rocks (cue the Neil Diamond music) we have found our way back to a beautiful, amicable relationship. (Never saw us on the Tyra Banks show, now did you!). I was here when she made the big move to this gorgeous apartment in 2000 and it has always been a place of such happy memories of birthday parties, visiting relatives, and Christmas and Passover parties (Christy is so ecumenical--she will service any religious holiday). Yesterday I started out reading the New York Times. Not on-line, as I do in Jordan, but in my hands, with the glorious newsprint left as a souvenir on my fingertips.

Christy and I walked through Central Park, one of the great havens of the world, and I pretended I had seen the leaves change this autumn, marvelling at the stunning beauty Frederick Law Olmstead bequeathed to us with this park. We arrived at the Temple of Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where for so long I visited about once a week. We visited a few old friends (read=paintings) and then joined a tour on Love in Renaissance Italy. We remarked in our snarky way that the Met should not have cut so many gallery talks--too many tourists littering our talks with the art experts. Same old observation as the old days. We visited the exhibit on Philippe de Montebello (the venerable and outgoing head of the Met) looking at the collection the curators created of what had been purchased under his watch in the last 30 years(they chose 300 items of the almost 84,000 items he oversaw acquiring). We especially loved the room of the purchases after 1994 since that was when we descended onto Manhattan.

I then met one of my favorite former students of all time, Joe Canterino, for lunch. But not just anywhere--a place called the "Jewel of India," in mid-town, a scene over the years of other notable meals with dear friends. We caught up, along with his wonderful girlfriend, about life in medical school, and life in Jordan, respectively. Another soupcon of comfort-food life.

I then did something probably a bit odd--I wanted to work out in my old gym, and I wanted to walk around neighborhoods I enjoy visiting, so I combined both desires. I did a "progresive work-out," kind of like the old-fashioned progressive dinner, and I went to four different franchises of NYSC gym, and walked through their four neighborhoods! Yeah, I am sure the work-out was secondary too, but it felt like good multi-tasking, enjoying both.

On my way to the theater I stopped for a slice at my favorite neighborhood pizza joint. Christy and I met to see the latest edition of the stupendous parody, "Forbidden Broadway." This is a show 26 years old, and updated every season or so by one of the most clever men ever to grace the earth. He parodies, digs, and skewers any show that needs the ribbing. I first visited the show back in 1986 with Sarah, and over the years, have gone back 7-8 times. Christy and I laughed heartily at the talented performers sending up some of the most beloved Broadway stars. We noticed one of the four performers from a show we saw in 1997. Another helping, please.

We capped off the evening sauntering over to the famed Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. I had first come to see the tree that visit in 1985, with Sarah and Steve and beloved friend Sharon. It is a magnificent sight, and our visit last night rekindled the memories of other visits to the tree, and New York in December, over the last 20 years. It was a warmish evening, but enough chill in the air to warrant the mammoth tree, the twinkly lights, and hopes of a visit from Santa Claus soon.

We made our way back to the Upper West Side via my favorite form of NYC transportation: the subway. I noticed a sign that I had seen many times before--a sign from the Metropolitan Transit Authority advising subway riders who might become ill on the train. The sign asked that the suddenly infirm inform another passenger or get out at the next stop and approach the stationmaster. Do not, repeat, do not pull the emergency brake, the sign said, as this will only delay aid. Which was all very logical, but for the following proclamation at the bottom of the sign, something along the lines of, "If you are sick, you will not be left alone."

Maybe this is what I like most about New York.

This strikes me as not only kind, not only comforting, but the very epitome of civilization, good government, ethical impulses, etc. Banding together, pooling our resources, not just making trains that move underground, not just making trains that move underground with surprising efficiency at a fair price--but posting on said trains a notification of such surprising compassion and thoughtfulness. I found myself scanning the faces of my fellow passengers, hoping for fainting, obvious fevers, at the very least a sneeze so I could offer one of Christy's many tissues.

At end of the day I commented to Christy how rather haphazardly my day had been of one course after another of old-friends. I then shuffled off to go on-line to Facebook. I have been on Facebook for a grand total of 72 hours, but am enjoying the newness of this communication.

Christy noted that my whole wonderful day had been another old-fashioned kind of enjoyment: face-to-face encounters and not just Facebook.

Ahhhh...but through the miracle of Facebook, I will be meeting up later today with Bobbie Cloud, another dear friend from the Charlotte years, and another helping of my comfort-food!