As you know, I attempted to write a blogg 4 years ago, for my lovely wife's web design project in her class at FIT. I figured my devoted readers would want to see this piece I published 4 years ago. Here you go.
Have a wonderful Shabbos.
March 27, 2009
Since I don’t understand really how blogs work, and I do not read them, I think I will view it as the diary I never had. I always thought it would be fun to have a diary to whom I confided in everything, yet I never did. This is my chance. I am going to call you Henry. I think that’s a pretty sweet name for a diary.
Anyways, I wanted to share with you a little about my day yesterday. Yesterday, March 26, 2009 was an unprecedented day in my year and a half stay in New York this far. The day began like any other—except for the fact that I was able to walk outdoors for the first time in months without a coat—it was like any other day. As I strolled down the wide sidewalk on Bennett Avenue, I couldn’t help but marvel at the rather mild weather. I had a feeling that somehow, someway, for some reason, by hook or by crook, or even by crook or by hook, today would be special. And special it was. As I approached 184th I was faced with the dilemma I face every day: What should I listen to on Sara’s pretty, bright pink ipod? Should I listen to some Baruch Levine? Or should I listen to a shiur? On this particular day, at this particular time, at this particular moment, I opted for the latter, as opposed to the former. I approached the shuttle, and as I did, I pressed the play button the ipod on the shiur that I had decided on. Upon opening the door, I took a quick look, and saw that the only open seats available were in the back. So to the back I went. And that was precisely when everything changed. As I approached my seat, I admittedly was not expecting what was to follow. Before my very own pretty green eyes, I would witness something unprecedented. I was to witness something I had not witnessed in an extremely long time. There was no way I could have guessed what was to come—it was simply unfathomable. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I was about to see, in front of my beautiful sparkling green eyes. No one could have pictured that this would happen, because I believe that this had in fact never before happened. In my older age, I admittedly have come to expect the unexpected, but what was to come, is beyond unexpected. It was simply unheard of. What was to follow simply could not be pictured by the mind: As I approached my seat there was a fellow who looked to be in his late 20s or early 30s. He had a nice goutee that I wish I could grow—except for the fact that my family is incapable of producing such facial hair—and I knew I liked this guy from the beginning. As I settled into my seat, I saw he was moving his lips as if he were talking. As I was listening to my shuir, he just seemed like a talking, goateed man. I wasn’t sure to whom he was speaking. But then I realized the unrealizable: Maybe he was speaking to me: Despite the fact that I was a perfect stranger, and we had never met before, and it was 9:00 in the morning. I turned down the ipod. And yes, he was talking to me. At first I didn’t know what to think. Two immediate options came to mind: A) He was on something, or B) He was from out of town. After thinking for a couple seconds, I realized the latter was more likely, as opposed to the former. It was 9:00, and he looked like a respectable goateed man on his way to work. He must be from out of town. That would be the only logical explanation for how he could have started speaking to me. Indeed, he was from the great state of Texas. During the 5 minutes that were to follow, we talked about a myriad of topics. We discussed the intricate details of life, and why the world was created, what is the meaning of life, etc… If there is a topic, we covered it, all in 5 minutes.
That van ride brought me back to my youth, where I was raised in the great, majestic Rocky Mountains. It reminded my of when we had a group of us who would ski to school, and we would talk while skiing. It brought me back to the day my father first told me I could put spurs on my cowboy boots. It brought me back to the times we went to go tip cows on the farm across the way. It reminded me that neighbors used to convene on the street to talk about life. It reminded me of old roller hockey games and interactions with people that we do not get here. As I carry on this city, the City that never sleeps, I indeed will sleep better knowing this Texan fighting the good fight. As I disembarked from the van on that splendid day, on that momentous moment, at that wondrous time, I marveled at the miracles we see every day.