This happened in November 1961. I had arrived from Italy the evening before. My English was from shaky to nonexistent. I had a one-year modest job.NYT
My boss had checked me at the Barbizon for Women, a place way beyond my means: $10 a day! He gave me a token and instructed me to take the subway on Lexington Avenue the next morning and get off at Wall Street. So there I was on the train watching the stations go by. Eventually I turned to the young woman next to me and murmured: Wall Street?
She gasped, grabbed my hand and rushed to the door. We were in the Bronx. We crossed to the downtown platform, she got on the train with me, we exited at Wall Street a half-hour later and she deposited me at the entrance of my office building.
I begged her for her name and address so that I could thank her properly. She refused. Her work was in the Bronx, so she would be quite late that morning, all for an act of kindness to a befuddled foreigner who did not seem to know the difference between uptown and downtown.
That was my first encounter with New York. I fell madly in love with a contradictory city that could terrify a provincial girl and at the same time make her feel welcome thanks to its generous residents. I still hope that that young woman may read this and know how she transformed the life of a frightened, unhappy stranger.
In the comments AllenS says...
Dairy, Day Two --
I was on my way home last night, and was mugged. WTF?
9 comments:
I love me some New York City!
I approach the city from the north on New Jersey Route 17. I crest on a hill, and an enormous panorama of Oz opens onto the horizon.
New York City is so epic!
Yeah, the asshole factor is high. Smart, aggressive people are usually assholes. The assholes are more socially adept than the caricature. Smart, aggressive people are usually curious types who are up for adventure.
Always knew that I had to be in Manhattan. And, I got it all. Even had a magnificent woman. God gave me everything I want!
The good old days. And they really were.
Mostly because there were rules back then.
We had beautiful stories, and we believed and trusted them. We wanted to be the good people in them.
Dairy, Day Two --
I was on my way home last night, and was mugged. WTF?
Who sez New Yawkers don't have big hearts?!?!
There are eight million stories in the Naked City!!!
I gotz more cliches if ya need 'em.
My ancestors ran away from the shitty old world and came to the new world, NYC, to make their way. But King Barack says there's no difference between America and all those shitty old world countries, nothing exceptional, nothing to see here folks, move along. So now the people of the new world won't have the exceptional attributes of the young woman in this story to look up to and so they won't be exceptional Americans any longer and there will be less kindness, less decency, less openness to the stranger. It will be just like the shitty old world my ancestors escaped from, all courtesy the vicious malevolent filled with revenge fantasies Barack and his cohort on the Left! Thank you thank you thank you Shitstain Schmendrik.
The story revolves around the behavior of one generous resident, willing to sacrifice convenience and time for another. I'd go so far as to believe every city has at least one. No special marks for NY with this one.
... she transformed the life of a frightened, unhappy stranger...
Left unsaid: What complete or major life change did the writer undergo as a result of receiving such a kindness?
Dairy? WTF, indeed.
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