The Story of Yesterday May Never Get Fully Written...

I took a train into New York City from Garfield, New Jersey yesterday, no mean feat, really, but I'm kind of pround of my adventure. I stepped off the train at Penn Station and started asking allegedly uptight New Yorkers how to get to NYU. My goal was to meet my son in Washington Square Park, which is surrounded by NYU, and then we would head up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Graem was crashing with a friend in an NYU dorm room, and I was staying with my good friends, The Millers, in New Jersey.

We took a cab from NYU to The Dakota, and said a prayer, and took a few pictures on the spot where John Lennon was shot. We spent a moment at Strawberry Fields, the memorial, to Mr. Lennon. Within the circular memorial, someone had spelled the word "PEACE" with strawberrys. A burnt out fellow with long hair in need of a bath or show was asleep under a blanket on a bench facing the memorial. A guitar case was propped up on the bence near his head. My son asked when Mr. Lennon had been shot and then remarked that it was amazing that there was still such a great level of interest in the man after all these years.

I then followed my son through Central Park; he claimed to know where he was going, in getting us to The Metropolitan. When I, and my arthritic knees who were aching and sore feet started to doubt his direction, I asked a man who was walking through the park with his wife and two small children. He pulled out a map. I think that he was from Germany. There are so many people from around the world; it is so refreshing to be surrounded by such. On 34th Street, when I was looking for a subway entrance to get to NYU, an young man from India walked up to me and asked if I knew how to get to 42nd Street.