METROPOLITAN DIARY
May ’83
Dear Diary:
It was a late evening in May 1983, and it happened to be the 100th anniversary of the Brooklyn Bridge. I was a trading assistant at Lehman Brothers living in the decidedly unglamorous neighborhood of Park Slope, Brooklyn.
The trains were less reliable then than they are now, and I always had a plan B to get home if there was a problem taking the 2 or 3 at Wall Street.
It was one of those days. Feeling miserable after a long day as a kid on the trading floor, I waited on the platform to get home. The train I was planning to take had just been pulled out of service.
I left the Wall Street station and walked to the Broad Street station to take a different train. One finally came and I was on my way home.
The train trundled up to the Manhattan Bridge, got halfway across and suddenly stopped. We sat there for a few minutes wondering what was going on.
Then the lights went out and we all sighed, thinking the worst. Just then the conductor’s voice came over the.
“It’s showtime, folks!” he said.
We sat on the train in the dark in the middle of the bridge and the East River watching the fireworks celebrating the Brooklyn Bridge for over five minutes from the best seats in the house.
— Peter J. Goldman
Favorite Painting
Dear Diary:
A few years ago, I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and, as is my habit, stopped in to say “hello” to my favorite painting, Velázquez’s “Juan de Pareja.”
My custom is to take a seat on the bench across from Juan, and then together we carry on, silently, having long intense conversations on art, philosophy, aesthetics, even politics.
On this particular occasion, as I entered the gallery, I saw a well-dressed, middle-aged woman sitting on my usual bench and staring at Juan.
I have become used to having Juan all to myself, so I was mildly annoyed. She was probably resting and would walk away in a few minutes, I thought to myself.
I sat down next to the woman, and began one of my typical unhurried conversations with Juan. After about 10 minutes, the woman was still sitting beside me.
Curious, I turned to her.
“A wonderful painting, isn’t it?” I said.
She smiled.
“Yes, it is,” she said, and then continued to stare silently at Juan.
“Do you come to the Met often?” I asked.
“No, I live in Colorado, so I only come here a few times a year when I visit New York,” she answered. “And when I am in New York, I always visit the Met so I can spend time with this painting.”
And with that she stood up, said goodbye and walked away.
— Marc Shanker
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/14/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html
