Life Happens

I realize I have been a total slacker and my posts are getting fewer and further between.  I promise to be better at this, especially since I made Sam do all the work to duplicate the original Reese photo!  The problem with New York though is that it literally never sleeps – the adage is true.  Life is constantly going, going, going, and it can be hard to find the time to sit down and write something.  I’ve lived other places and do not want to be snooty to say that people outside of this city don’t lead busy lives, but I do believe there is more opportunity to constantly have a packed agenda.  It’s what you do with your time that determines whether or not you’re living up to the full hustle and bustle of this city.

Take for example, my friend Ash.  She is always on the go.  She is always peppy.  She is always up for whatever.  If you’ve seen the movie “Election” with none other than this website’s namesake, Reese Witherspoon, she is the epitome of Reese’s character, Tracy Flick (one year, Ash even dressed as Tracy Flick for Halloween – priceless).  She is incredibly ambitious, competitive, and ultimately successful.  She packs her schedule to the minute of every day, with sleep being on the lower end of her priorities. 

Then there’s me.  I consider myself to be busy and keep a tight schedule, but this is nothing compared to my aforementioned friend.  The difference?  Operating hours.  This city may never sleep, but thanks to a variety of genetic reasons, this girl does!  I require more sleep than most of the ladies in a nursing home.  This limits how much my body allows me to accomplish in a day. 

During the week, I go to the gym early in the morning, work during the day, make dinner at night for Sam and me, and may grab a drink with a friend once in a while after work.  After that, I’m spent by 9 or 9:30 and crash, just to start it all over again the next day.  One night a week I tutor after work (refer to previous post about Henry), and I spend the other weeknights/weekends actively involved in the Mizzou NYC Alumni Chapter, volunteering at events, attending happy hours, attending chapter meetings, and playing on our co-ed softball and football teams.  Sundays usually involve a trip to our (awesome) church, meal planning for the week, grocery shopping, and laundry.  I also recently started volunteering with the Alzheimer’s Association’s NYC chapter.

All that may not seem super time-consuming compared to the lives of those reading this, but the other thing that takes up a lot of time is commuting.  Even living in central Manhattan, it takes on average 30 minutes to get anywhere because of the density of this city.  If you have the money to cab places, you may save time, but being reliant upon public transportation leaves you vulnerable to the delays of the loathed MTA (Metropolitan Transportation Authority) and can make a two-mile commute take 45 minutes.

That brings me to the title of my post: life happens.  So you will have to forgive me for the lack of consistency in my posts.  Plus, I want to make sure they are interesting and not just writing to have something. 

That’s my brief post for now; next to come: my take on the Windy City vs. Gotham…

Pun Intended

In New York CIty, apartments are everywhere, and I'm not just talking about the high rises you see.  Apartments are hidden and tucked in just about everywhere you look, most often above store fronts and food venues.  

In my second apartment I lived in, I was living on the Upper East Side on 2nd Avenue, between 88th and 89th Streets, above a restaurant/bar called Elaine's.  I never saw people my age in there, so I didn't go check it out myself for a while.  A friend of mine informed me that it was a very famous New York establishment, which I never expected living in such an unchic area of town.  

Over time I heard more and more about it and finally ventured in one time with some friends.  Once inside, it was easy to tell that every person in there was a regular and that we were clearly foreigners.  The walls were lined with framed playbills and autographed movie posters, and a large elderly woman sat on the edge of her chair at a table near the front, her eyes framed with abnormally large round glasses.  The two friends I was with had been there before and knew immediately that the key was to make nice with the bartender, and then everyone else's gaze would come off of you.  

This was not a bar for a young twenty-something trying to make it in the fashion industry; this was a bar for famous authors pulling up in limousines, actors who were in their prime in the 1970s, and any sort of professionals over 40 years old and making six figures.  Clearly, I did not fit in, but it was still a place to be experienced.  The famed name most commonly associated with this bar is Woody Allen, who filmed a scene there in his film, "Manhattan."  Over the course of the 2 1/2 years I lived in that apartment, I can't count how many times I came home to see film crews setting up outside the restaurant.

The even cooler thing?  Elaine, herself, owned the entire building, which meant that I was renting an apartment from her.  

I have since moved from that apartment this past fall, and Elaine actually has passed away.  I am now living in a quite different neighborhood of Midtown East, in an area called Sutton Place.  The dynamic in this neighborhood is quite different, but I like that I am not so far uptown.  Once again I am living above a store-front and a restaurant.  On one side is Madison Diner, which is pretty much straight out of Seinfeld and constantly packed with customers wanting their mediocre food.  On the other side is something quite contrary: a "novelty" store, creatively named Come Again.  I have inserted a photo as evidence.  

I know Elaine would be so proud.

Between the yellow and red awnings was the door to my apartment.

Elaine Kaufman

(And they're having a sale!)

Coincidence, schmoincidence...

Last week at church, our pastor Brian talked about affirming and denying the Resurrection of Jesus Christ on the cross.  By "affirming or denying," he was not referring to whether or not we believed the event happened, but whether or not we affirm the Resurrection in our actions in life after that of the Lord, in order to show him praise for his sacrifices and live in the way he has asked of his followers.  It is a message that has stayed in my mind over the last week.  One of the hardest parts of trying to live your life as an affirmation, though, is that you don't always get proof of the change you're trying to be in the world, but last night I was given such proof.

Sam and I went to a French restaurant in our neighborhood that we had never been to before.  The restaurant itself was quite small - only a little over a dozen tables plus the bar.  We were seated at a two-top table with one side on the booth that lined the wall, and because of the small space, we were quite cozy with the neighboring tables.

There was a small space on the other side of the table next to us, and I asked Sam if he thought that's where the advertised live music for the night was going to be set up.  Before he could answer, our neighbors affirmed, "Yes, it is; we just asked the same thing."  That comment led to a few other small talk comments, which led me to my usual talking at the faces of a strangers incessantly at the speed of light - much like I did to Sam the night we met (see, I picked him up, not the other way around...), and also led me to the conclusion that the couple was in from out of town.   A few minutes later I stopped mid-sentence and said, "I'm sorry - I'm from the Midwest.  I talk a lot."  (This is the time-frame in which Sam is usually sitting silently, trying his best not to roll his eyes over my repeated chatting up with strangers, silent, and looking down at his plate.)

The response?  "Oh, that's OK, I'm actually from the Midwest too," said the husband, who was about my father's age.

"Oh, really??  Where are you from?"

"Kansas City.  Well actually I grew up in Overland Park."

This immediately set off a firestorm of questions and findings of commonalities, including that the husband, Mark*, went to Mizzou!!

Through additional conversation, we learned that Mark and Karen* were in town from Los Angeles.  Mark was in on business, and they staying for a long weekend.  Per my usual self, I asked if they needed any restaurant recommendations, etc.  For the next hour or so, we chatted as the live music set up on the other side of their table, and I gave them a list of non-tourist places to eat and visit.  We continued to enjoy a lovely evening with this couple and were amazed over the chances that we would be seated next to each other in a restaurant in one of the biggest cities in the world.

As the plates were cleared from our tables, Mark excused himself and I sat talking with Karen while Sam listened in on the live music.  She leaned into me and said, "I don't want you to say anything, but I just [got some devastating health news] yesterday, and talking with you two is the first time I haven't thought about it since I found out." (Out of respect to Karen, I am refraining from verbalizing what the actual news was...).  I immediately threw my arms around her without even thinking about it.  It was such an emotional moment - incredibly sad, yet also so touching of a comment to receive from a complete stranger.

Before Mark and Karen left, I gave them my email address and insisted they let us know the next time they were in town.

When they left, Sam gave me his quizzical look, obviously regarding the hug.  When I told him what Karen had said, he sat in silence for quite a few moments.  I finally broke the silence and said, "I don't think this was all just a coincidence.  This was a sign from God."

Sam slowly responded, "I was just going to say the same thing..."

In the next hour of our date night out, we couldn't stop thinking about the blessing we had just witnessed.  I started thinking about Brian's message, and it led me to be filled with a joy I cannot put into words.  Striking up a conversation with a stranger (as I said, is something that usually annoys Sam) ended up making the day of someone who is suffering.  This experience affirmed to me that I should continue to just be me, because playing the character of me without any filters, affected someone in a positive way.  This is the character I want to continue to develop in myself.  THIS is what Brian was talking about!  THIS is the message of God!

This experience was not a coincidence.  It was not a chance of random people meeting at a random time.  THIS. WAS. FATE.

This was the work of the Lord.

*names changed