New York City, home of the horn. The land whereby the excessive use of the car horn is a requirement to obtaining a drivers license. It is where I grew up and many of the sights and smells bring a rush of memories flooding back.
It’s home to people of all walks of life. Young to old; rich to poor; and nationalities abound. There are people from all over the world living, working and just being in New York. It is a wonder of the world.
Traveling around New York is done by walking, hoping on a subway, stepping onto a bus or sliding into a cab. It’s a wonder to see people moving about their day. To and from work; meeting up with friends, dining and events. A truly wonderful place to watch people.
In my travels there of late, I’ve taken to staying at a hostel in the Bowery. It’s cheap, has clean sheets and hot showers. Yes I could stay with family but that brings with it the excess baggage of our youth. There’s good, bad and ugly. A separate place lets me visit with them and then step away again.
Getting on now in years, the spring in my step just isn’t what it once was. A slight wobble has introduced itself to my walk. And the various joints, muscles and ligaments tend toward the tired side.
Sometimes when I get to the hostel, I pause. I’ve just walked from the subway or coming back from somewhere else. This is especially true when there’s luggage to be hauled. I pause to gather myself for the task that is to come - the climbing of the stairs. The hostel is a 5 story walk up, no elevator to be found. Check in is on the second floor, rooms I’m typically assigned on the fourth.
Last trip, as I’m readying myself for the climb, a woman stops. She looks at me, at the luggage and then at the stairs. Looking back at me she says, “May I?” To which I’m not permitted to respond as she grabs the handle of my larger case and heads up the stairs. She waits as I climb with the second piece, nods to me and is then off to her room. I’m left blinking and stunned at her gift.
This morning I’m heading back to the airport after most of the week spent visiting cousins, mom, sisters and friend. And mixing work time with all that.
It’s the subway to a bus to LaGuardia for the flight. Standing near the top of the stairs into the subway labyrinth, I’m readying myself for hauling down two flights of stairs, a turnstile and two more flights. It’s early in the day so I’m certain I’m up to the task. When stops another woman, mentions that she saw me contemplating the stairs and has decided to offer help. Shocked for a second time, I nod and offer her the smaller of my luggage. When we get to the bottom of the second stairs, she asks uptown or downtown? Uptown I say. Through the turnstiles and down the next pair of stairs we go. On the platform, she lowers my case, smiles, turns and walks away. I call again to her my thanks and wishes for a good day.
New York sometimes has a reputation of a cold, heartless place. One where everyone is just out for themselves. I can attest that there are people in the city who care. Who are willing to stop their day to help someone in need. I am thankful to have met two of them.
The lifetime of our connection was measured in seconds, less than a minute. And yet, it they were truly profound. A stranger seeing an elder in need and stepping up to offer aid. An act of kindness and then away, on with their lives. They both live on in my memory. I shall not soon forget the feeling of friendship they left with me.