METROPOLITAN DIARY
Something Small
Dear Diary:
I came to New York City in 2019 from a northern Canadian town to visit a friend. While she was at work, I caught a ride on the Staten Island Ferry to get a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.
It was a warm September day, and I sat outside on the deck, staring at the giants: Lady Liberty loomed ahead, big and green; behind me, office towers shot up into the blue sky. All around me, ships passed by.
I couldnt help but think that everywhere I looked, rusted metal, shiny glass and gray concrete dominated almost every surface.
I took a deep breath, catching a whiff of diesel fumes from tugboats that were competing for a patch of the harbor while the ferry clanged and banged forward.
How do people live here? What makes someone want to be a New Yorker with all of this noise, these foul smells and hard edges?
Then, I noticed something. Fluttering above the water on the breeze was a butterfly.
Something soft had found space in the middle of all of the roughness. Something small had made its own way. Something tiny had found a home in New York.
Lea Storry
No Frills
Dear Diary:
In 1990, on one of my frequent trips to New York, I stayed at a modestly priced, no-frills hotel near Lincoln Center.
The room was tiny, and the menu was limited in terms of breakfast choices.
When the tray with coffee and milk arrived, I asked the server for a spoon, as there wasnt one on the tray.
He sighed.
All the spoons are in use right now, he said.
Ilene Starger
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/13/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html