Here is an ode to New York. And to New York’s mostly-invisible greatness.
What I really want to write about right now is my moment on the corner of 10th Street and 2nd Avenue.
The evening was beautiful. Cool air, blue sky deepening into sunset, the air fresh and spring-like. The sun going down. People on their bikes. Restaurants with tables outside. Beautiful. An evening where New York looks fresh, and lovely. Like anything can happen.
I stood on the corner of 10th Street and 2nd, waiting for the light to change. I was in my own little private Idaho, but suddenly … noticed my surroundings.
Behind me, on the Southwest corner of the intersection, was a restaurant called “Rectangles”. More specifically: “Rectangles: Yemenite and Israeli cuisine“.
So that was thing # 1.
Across the street, diagonally on the Northwest corner of 2nd and 10th, is the famous St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery. A 17th century Episcopalian church. I’ve been to weddings there. But it’s also a vibrant performance space, where dance companies, etc., finding a place to work there. A beautiful stone church, set diagonally, with benches around it, people hanging out. People going to an evening mass.
Across from a Yemenite and Israeli restaurant.
Then, directly across the street from me, on the Southeast corner of this intersection, the famous Second Avenue Deli. The signage looks like Hebrew letters. There is a clock, with Hebrew numbers.
All converging on one street corner.
As New Yorkers pedal their bikes slowly by, or drink Guinness at the Irish pub 2 doors down … This kind of diversity is rarely even noticed. Or commented upon.
But in that one moment, I thought: Okay. Hold on.
What is MOST extraordinary about all of these faiths and cultures co-existing on the same corner … is that it is kind of NOT extraordinary. Nobody even notices.
This is the very thing about us that needs to be cherished. If not by them, then certainly by us. Certainly by us. The overall un-extraordinariness of it all.
