Archive for March, 2014

LOST AND FOUND

Life looked good in the glow of my December visit to New York and the coming holidays. Losing my keys in the city was upsetting and inconvenient, but trivial in light of what followed.

First things first. After lunch at Restivo’s with my friend, Therese, we enjoyed a wonderful performance of Sean O’Casey’s play, “Juno and he Paycock,” at the Irish Rep., then parted at Penn Station where I caught a train to Garden City and the pet-friendly LaQuinta Inn. Honey was with me as usual.

Taking a seat, I asked a young man opposite if I was on the right train for Garden City. He assured me I was, said not to worry, he’d take good care of me, and we (mostly me) talked all the way. He was handsome and had a lilting brogue, and when I blithely observed: “The Irish are the best looking people,” he rolled his eyes and glanced in mock horror at the gentleman of color sitting next to me — wearing earplugs, thankfully.

Barney, born in County Cavan, Ireland, came to America “to make his fortune,” he said, was a construction worker, married with children, and had a quick wit. When I said I’d been told I should do stand-up at senior centers, he replied: “That’s like getting a compliment and a slap on the face at the same time.” He got off at Floral Park, smiling and waving from the doorway. Many blessings to you and your family, Barney. Slainte!

As the train pulled into Garden City I looked in my purse for my keys, didn’t find them, and blurted this problem to a young man, Christopher, getting off with me. We went to a bench where he suggested I empty my bag — still no keys. I didn’t have my cell phone either, it was pitch dark, and he and I were now alone at the station.

As we walked through a tunnel under the tracks to the other side where I’d parked my car I wondered: “How do you know I’m not a con artist?” “You don’t know me either,” he replied, laughing. As he gallantly drove me to the Inn, I asked if he knew that St. Christopher is now considered a legend to comfort travellers, not a real saint. We both said: “There may be one now!” Thank you, Chris, for your goodness and kindness in helping this journeyer.

It’s almost midnight on February 28th, and I’m determined to post this before March begins. So you’ll have to wait to find out how I got home to Maryland. How I eventually got my keys back. How I nearly lost Honey. How I rescued a large, lost dog that ran into my apartment through my just opened patio door on one of the coldest nights of the year.

Keep hanging in there. It works for me!

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