Traveling east with Sharon Lee

My sister and I spent our formative years enjoying the simple life on the farm in up state New York. We ate plain foods like Mom’s homemade macaroni and cheese and Dad’s fresh garden lettuce dressed with vinegar and sugar.
We never went to New York City until this spring when we combined vacations and a spring break trip with my exchange student and oldest grandchild.
Before we toured NYC, Sis checked the weather channel and layered on warmth with a blue T-shirt, a striped long-sleeve shirt and fuzzy gray jacket. I chose a pink sweater, quilted vest, navy jacket and striped slacks. She also wanted a scarf – so she began crocheting one with the variegated purple, green and tan yarn she had in her crochet bag. Before we parked in NYC she had completed 90 percent of the scarf .
Wrapping the first 36 inches around her head, she walked down the street crocheting as I untangled the last few yards of yarn. Working the separate ends of the yarn we joined the folks in plain dark coats at Madison Square Garden waiting to purchase tickets to see the Ringling Brothers Circus. She finished the scarf, I bought tickets for the girls and we headed out for 5th Avenue. The wind quickly seeped through our layers. We detoured into a dollar store and picked up a few items. The cashier scanned, bagged and cashed us out in a New York minute. Outside again, teeth chattering, Sis pointed to a sign, Free concert. “Want to go?”
Inside? Where it was warm? Yes.
“Like street people,” we chuckled as we opened the door.
In the balcony behind us the organ swelled in a grand theme as we studied the pristine sanctuary. We discovered a separate stained glass window shrine behind a twisted hunk of metal. The teary-eyed dove of peace hovered over an outline of the fallen Twin Towers, two firemen with angels and a brown robed monk – representing the late Fr. Mychal Judge O.F.M. – chaplain of the NYC Fire Dept. and a brother at the church.
We each fought tears as we studied the window before leaving.
Our next meandering landed us in a deli studying the New York Times choosing a Broadway show. By the time we had thawed out we had reserved nose bleed seats to an off-Broadway show called “Silent Laughter.” A ride up town on the subway took us to streets of theaters festooned with banners announcing the evening’s shows. Secure that we knew where to find our show, we headed for Times Square.
Typical middle-aged grandmothers, we zeroed in on the toy store with the four-story Ferris wheel. I bought ride tickets and hoped to get the Monopoly car but settled for the Tonka car rather than wait 15 minutes. The others caught up with us and snapped our picture as we hung beside the second floor balcony.
We gave them their circus tickets and made plans to meet after our shows. Women in strapless formal black gowns reminded us we still wore our warm tourist layers. We ascended to our isolated seats. Before the show began, the usherette invited us down to empty seats with a better view. The intricate choreography astounded me; the organist reflected the varying moods perfectly. The audience applauded loudly.
The next day, again dressed as very cold tourists, Sis and I chose the Red Lion Inn for lunch. The hostess sniffed and whispered “table 45” to the man in the suit who escorted us to a table set with blue willow dishes and hidden behind a half wall with plants.
“This place needs Earl Gray tea,” Sis said. We ordered tea with our lunch of spinach soufflé with pasta and various greens. It tasted just like mom’s macaroni and cheese and dad’s garden greens with vinegar and sugar.
As we tallied the costs, we realized the other reason we had never gone to the big city – country living is not only simpler, it is cheaper.
(Joan Hershberger is a reporter at the News-Times.)