World’s Fair
Dear Diary:
In 1964, my parents allowed me and my cousin to go to the World’s Fair in New York and spend the night at our grandmother’s apartment. She was not there.
We are three girls: 16, 14 and 12. We swing our legs in the Fountain of the Sun, discover what we would look like with different colored hair at Clairol’s stall, and eat our waffles. Belgium.
The highest point was sitting on our grandmother’s deck and staring at the lights of the city while trying to smoke a few cigars we found in the apartment. We all wore baseball caps backwards.
– Caroline Heald
Aloe
Dear Diary:
I was waiting for the bus at Park Slope, my hands clutching the bottoms of my tattered gloves. When I was 15 years old, someone told me that your hands are not as cold as if your fingers were close together, connected and I always remember that.
There are two aloe plants on the seats of the silver bus stop, one at the top of each empty seat in the middle. A middle-aged man in a large blue coat walks past and takes pictures of plants.
I’m starting to feel sad that my relationship ended before the vacation. The wind bit my cheek.
A woman coming out of the office was actually behind me. She laughed.
“Do you want an aloe plant?” she speaks.
“I think they’re there for decoration,” I said.
“Take it,” she said. “I have a plant inside that has grown too big for the pot. I can’t keep it all”.
She went inside and showed me the tree through the window. It looks like a giant green octopus. She came back with some cuttings.
“Take one, take two,” she said. “Just put soil in.”
“OK, sure,” I replied. “Thank!”
I held the bumpy creatures in my hand as the bus sped up. After getting off the car, I walked towards my house, each hand a cut.
A man walked past me.
“Looks good here!” he say.
I whirled.
“Do you want one?” I ask.
“Oh no, I can’t,” he said.
“No, please, someone gave these on the street.”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I like one. My mother-in-law just gave me a pot and I want a berry.”
I walked home, holding the other cut in one hand and the fingers of the other hand entwined into a ball. His hand was much warmer.
– Mare Berger
Pick up Picnic
Dear Diary:
When we first moved to New York, my husband was assigned to the New York Coast Guard Station on Staten Island. Young and growing up, we moved in with our grandparents, who graciously moved us into their Manhattan apartment, and he’s been working ever since.
We parked the truck on the street, and my husband used to start his days off in the truck waiting for the street sweeper during the alternate hours.
On a beautiful sunny morning, my grandmother made pancakes and a brunch with the enthusiasm that retirees have for.
Feeling bad that my husband didn’t even get a chance to have breakfast, I brought his brunch picnic style, and we put it in the back of the pickup, checkered blankets and all.
While we ate and waited for the street sweeper, people passed by, wishing us “good food!” and asked if they could have some. One person paused.
“I saw a lot of things in this city,” he said. “But this is new.”
– Laura Daniels
Recommended on the sidewalk
Dear Diary:
Me and a friend were walking along East 86th Street on a lovely spring afternoon. She was describing two outfits and asking for my opinion on which one to wear to a fancy corporate dinner that evening.
I was weighing her options when we heard a voice say, “Put on a velvet jacket and silk pants.”
Looking to the right, we see a young woman pushing a stroller. Since we couldn’t decide which option was best, my friend took her advice.
– Marilyn Hillman
Phone off
Dear Diary:
Be an original subscriber to City Center Encores! , I was delighted to attend the eagerly anticipated reopening event after a two-year hiatus.
Subscribers usually know all the audience members sitting near them, so there’s a bit of a buzz when someone new shows up. And at the “The Tap Dance Kid” show in February, everyone in my line noticed a new face in the row ahead of us.
When the standard announcement was made about the no photo, video and phone use rules, the woman took out her phone and started texting.
The orchestra began to play, and the audience applauded. The light from the phone is still visible. I was about to tap her shoulder and ask her to turn off the phone when the person next to me turned to her.
“Turn that phone off,” he said.
“And by the way,” he added. “You are going in the wrong direction. Wordle is ‘pleat.’
– Dennis Buonagura
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Illustration by Agnes Lee
