Today is Friday, April 23. (I've had to update the date three times since I've started...saved...re-started this post.) I've been slammed at work for four days and this is the first five minutes that I've had to check in. Since I left you, I've become obsessed with a taco stand in the East Village, Snack Dragon. I discovered a Sullivan Street Bakery in Hell's Kitchen, near my office (try the tortino di cioccolato. I diiiiie) ...I brunched at Balthazaar ...found out that Lupe's on 6th Ave serves tostadas instead of pancakes, like I thought ...I saw my first Broadway musical ...witnessed my life flash before me twice (once because I forgot my Metro card and wasn't sure that I could get to work, twice because I locked myself out of my apartment) ...made my first irritated remark to a tourist ...AND mourned the death of my grandfather: the late, great Chet Wielgos.
My grandfather passed away several weeks ago after a relatively short battle with lung cancer --the best you can hope for in a worst-case senario, and he will be missed tremendously. On the day of his funeral, we sat in the 70-degree sun and listened to a bugler play taps into the Indiana breeze. I'll never forget it.
On my way back to New York, I thought maybe my grandfather had been reincarnated as a stranger (rather, many, very friendly strangers). Anyone will tell you that my grandfather was a walking, talking Associated Press wire. Any time of day he could feed you information on the latest, greatest whatever was happening, debate politics, or tell you more about the news happening in your own town before you ever knew it happened.
The stranger-reincarnation started with the old man TSA agent who held up the airport security line for ten minutes while he embarrassingly flattered me with compliments and told that he wanted to come with me on my flight, and the New Yorker who went out of his way to wish me a good morning. Out of nowhere, people were approaching me, left and right, to say hello. It's hard to explain why these interactions were different than before, but it's easy to understand how moving to a city like New York will suddenly make you feel very invisible. Then, suddenly, I was the ONLY person that everyone noticed. And you know what? That's the way it felt when you spent time with my grandpa --like you were the only person that mattered.
(I have to quit that before I tear up. R.I.P. Chit-chat-Chet!) There's more...
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