Saint Theresa of 42nd Street

 

by Pa Rock

Stranger in a Strange Land

Tonight we dined at Junior's - sandwiches and cheesecake - and then attended an evening performance of "The Roommate," a Neil Simonesque type of comedy with only two characters - an unlikely duo of an Iowa divorcee in her sixties and a somewhat younger New York City lesbian vegan as they embark on a social adventure of  learning to be roommates with one another.  The Iowa woman who owns the house they are occupying is played by Rosemary's baby's mother, Mia Farrow, and the New Yorker with the colorful past and present is given life by Patti  Lupone.  The playwright who put it all on paper was Jen Silverman.

(If Mia Farrow is Rosemary's baby's mother, does that mean that Ronan Farrow is Satan - or just one of his siblings?  Enquiring minds want to know!)

I laughed, a lot, and occasionally felt pangs of compassion for each of the characters as they struggled to overcome their own flaws while learning to adjust to life in the orbit of someone else.  It is a very good show, and I highly recommend "The Roommate."  And yes, it definitely has a strong Neil Simon vibe, but this lifelong fan of the Bard of Broadway has no problem with that.

But my real adventure this afternoon began in the hotel and played out on the streets of New York which, despite what Republican fear-mongers want you to believe, are absurd and noisy and busy, with many strange odors, but seem to be basically safe.  

(I did run into a group of elderly women while jaywalking this afternoon who were all wearing tiaras.)

Not long after that I was at the hotel, and, being tired-out from the walk over to Tim's production and back, decided to take a nap before heading out to dinner and the theatre.  Then, when I got up from the nap, I discovered that I had rolled over on my glasses while sleeping, screwed-up the frames, and popped the lenses.  They are my only glasses, and I really did not want to spend the last two days of the trip without them, and then have to drive home from St. Louis squinting through the windshield.

A member of the hotel staff used his phone to find an optical shop on 42nd Street, about a 20-minute walk from the hotel.  It was after four, and Carla found out the shop was open until seven - so I lit out on foot   - which I figured had to be quicker than trying to snag a cab.  Our hotel is on 47th Street.  First I hiked five big blocks to 42nd Street, but not having glasses I couldn't read the street signs which were posted at the far end of the intersection from where I was at.  I stepped up to a stranger, a woman who appeared to be in be in her late forties and was pushing a baby carriage, and asked her which street I was on.

I suspect that her initial thought was that I was just another NYC street weirdo, which maybe I was, but she looked me over and seemed to come to a decision to be of assistance.  "This is 42nd Street'" she said.  I told her that I was just another tragic tourist with a hard luck tale and looking for the optical shop.  It was undoubtedly obvious that I was rattled and in a hurry, but she was a very calming soul.  She told me that she lived on 42nd Street and thought she knew where the shop was at, a block or so beyond her apartment.  As we walked, we chatted, and she started telling me life's blessings would kick in and everything would be alright.  When she reached her destination, she pointed on down the street to my ultimate destination.

I thanked her.  "I'm Rocky," I said.

"And I'm Theresa," she replied.

My very good friend from Okinawa, Nefredia, came back to the states several years ago and was a social worker in Brooklyn until her recent retirement and move to North Carolina.  She often spoke of blessings,  Theresa reminded me of her.   Such nice ladies, helpful and caring.  I was truly moved by this close encounter with a stranger.  New York City is big and noisy with plenty of interesting smells, but the streets flow wide and deep with human kindness.  

A young man in the optical shop fixed and cleaned my glasses in less than five minutes.  When I asked about the cost, he said there was no change but that I could tip, and I did.  He had been one of my blessings that Theresa had foretold.

New York, New York, it's a helluva a great town!