Columbus Day memory

I remember this holiday weekend in 1982 when I walked the streets of New York City. It was a day much like today, blue skies, autumn leaves, a great time to be outside. I had flown into LaGuardia the Saturday night before---all by myself. This trip was a big adventure for me, and my New York side trip accompanied a week's stay in Washington, D.C. for the National 4-H photography forum.

Since the forum didn't start until Monday afternoon, I'd made arrangements with my friend Chris Moon to meet me at the airport in New York. I would stay with her for two nights in her apartment near Central Park. Chris is one of my longtime friends who seems more like family than friend.

We'd worked for the Forest Service together for three summers. She had since married, moved to New York and was pursuing her doctorate at Barnard College. I can't remember if she'd earned it by then, but she eventually worked with the speech patterns of newborns at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. These days, she's a wife and mother who teaches psychology at Pacific Lutheran University and does research through the University of Washington.

At the time of my visit, Chris had lived in New York long enough to give me the grand tour. That was our plan for Sunday. Saturday night we dined at a Cuban restaurant in her neighborhood. When I awakened Sunday morning, I leaped out of bed, anxious to see the city. Chris slept in a bit and was happy to have me take her standard poodle for a walk in the park. Before leaving, I, the country hick, learned a lesson about the city---take the plastic baggies to scoop the poop.

With dog in hand, I set out across the park. Within minutes a cop walked up to me and said, "Lady, put that camera where someone can't steal it." He then showed me the correct method to keep it safe from muggers. Must be I was pretty transparent as a hick. The dog eventually did her duty as I gawked at the sights in this place I had so longed to see. I returned to the apartment building and a lady said, "Are you the one who's lost?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Are you from Idaho?" she asked.

"Yes," I responded.

"Well, then you're lost," she announced. I remained in disbelief because surely this was the place I'd left a few minutes before and I had seemed to find my way back. Within a few minutes, I'd learned that someone had inadvertently buzzed Chris' room and when there was no one at the other end, she assumed I was lost.

Later that morning, we set out, via bus and foot, to see the city. Of course, we visited the sights that most folks who go to New York must see---Fifth Avenue, Tiffany's, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, and a potty break at the Waldorf Astoria, doing our duty inside the individual baby pink stalls with full length mirrors.

While we were strolling through this area of town, the Columbus Day parade brought the huge crowds to the sidewalks---8, 9, 10 deep on either side of the street. For the first time in my life, other than because of what I'd learned in the history books, I could see that Columbus Day was really important to a lot of folks. We're a bit removed from that out West, I thought.

After the parade ended, Chris and I wasted no time on our tour, which also included lunch at the Stage Deli and a ride on the Staten Island Ferry and a close-up view of the Statue of Liberty. The tour moderator was the most nauseating human I'd ever encountered, and it was good that Chris had some aspirin as his stupid, unfunny comments intensified an already pounding headache.

Always this time of the year, and on this weekend, I think of that quick visit to the Big Apple. I've been back one other time, but that was a quick motor tour of the city. Some one of these Octobers, I'm going to go again because I liked every moment of my visit, except for that obnoxious ferry man and his nonstop mouth.

I'm willing to bet he would have never made it to America on one of Columbus' ships. A couple of hours of listening to him and suddenly there'd be a joyous "Man overboard."