‘He Debated Whether to Simply Accept That the Pillow Was Gone’

Whoever knew that NYC was so, quietly, kindly, sweet?

I LOVED Columbus Circle!

Taino story is so sweet. Hello Columbus Circle is interesting too. It’s very natural during the period when cellphones were not in vogue. The wife of Hot Dog man took her chance and it simply clicked thanks to a Good Samaritan though he lifted the pay phone for fun.

I answered a pay phone. It was an obscene call. This was back in the days before everyone switched to cell phones. I wonder - the men who would make dirty calls, what do they do now?

Summer Night story is interesting in the sense that it has clearly indicated that whoever sat on that particular place chose not to take the large pillow forgotten by the writer’s husband. It’s a huge plus sign as far as morality is concerned. This particular incident has made me to recollect a noble gesture on the part of a small shop owner in Hyderabad sometime back. My wife forgot a gold bangle ( 22 Carat ) somewhere. She told me about it soon after coming back. I told her not to worry and that there is no point in repenting and increasing blood pressure unnecessarily but she couldn’t come to terms with her loss. Slowly she recounted as to what exactly happened. After eliminating certain places where she visited, finally she came to the conclusion that she forgot her bangle in a bangle shop near our house. The very next day she went there but the shop was closed. The next day we went again. When my wife told her the purpose of her visit, the shop owner, a lady, immediately returned the bangle, which she kept it safely. We thanked her profusely. As a token of gratitude we gave her half Kilo sweet packet along with some other eatables. She is such a sweet lady. As such I felt I am duty bound to share the story here.

All very beautiful.

Maybe life was much More fun before there were all These cell phones around

I was preparing for hurricane Dorian, mundane tasks....when out of the blue my husband shared the pillow story. Twenty years together and a simple, poignant story calls me to mind...he shares with me. What a delight, the story and the togetherness.

I love the Taino story so much! And the phone call to Hot Dog Man made me laugh. Thank you both for sharing your stories.

Several years ago my son and I were enjoying a week in Manhattan, delighted that a professor from my son's college years had given us the use of his apartment near Battery Park. Coming back from a long day out, we sat on a park bench before returning to the apartment, happily anticipating an evening at the theater. When we got up, my son handed me his camera case. Carrying something already, I absentmindedly left my purse on the bench. Almost back to the apartment, I suddenly realized my mistake, and my son sprinted back to the bench. A dear older couple was sitting on the bench, keeping watch over my purse, sure that someone would be returning soon. After thanking them profusely, my son returned at a walk as it seemed wise not to sprint on the way back, holding a woman's purse! It is a wonderful memory from our time in NYC, and proof that good people are everywhere!

In the early 60s my friends and I would meet after work at the old Metopolitan Opera House before performances for dinner. We had a repertoire of three restaurants. If someone was late, we would write the destination on a certain brick on the right of the main entrance of the theater. Cell phones? We didn't need no stinking cell phones.

I had Friday off from work and later in the afternoon a date with a new girl that I was looking forward to. In the morning I walked to the bank to deposit the check with my week's salary. But when I arrived at the bank I couldn't find the check, it was gone. I retraced the steps back to my apartment but could not find the envelope with the check in it. Upstairs I became very upset with myself and considered cancelling my date, but then I thought, why allow this event to ruin what could still be a very pleasant day, and I went on the date and did indeed have a great time. On early Saturday morning I was was awakened by a phone caller, who asked, "Did you lose something?" His son had found the envelope with the check. When we met and the check was returned, the young man and I went to a local pet shop where I bought him whatever he asked for for his pet terrarium.

What I found interesting in Summer Night is how they left the pillow on the table and when they came back it was in perfect condition. They had just bought it so it was new and when they came back to it, it was in the same condition. They were very lucky it was their good luck. For others it may have been the same or someone could have taken it or thrown it away. But when they had gotten home they started thinking if their pillow is gone or is it still there. And when they saw it was there the husband was so happy that he was comfortably leaning on it .

“He wears it infrequently to help make it last.” That sentence made me smile. I love the image of a couple walking around Central Park with a fluffy pillow wrapped in plastic. I wonder whether no one had pinched it from the Tucker Square table because they assumed it was tainted somehow. Where I live a new pillow would be a happy find for any transient sleeping rough. But most other people would ignore it because who knows who might have used it? And the police or sheriff might be called because it could be a hidden explosive device. I’m certain that abandoned packages are even more concerning in NYC. I envision a painting of a lonely, plump pillow perched pertly on a park table, a still spot amidst the swirl of the city. The picture is called, “This is Not a Pillow.”

This past Friday, I took my 4-year-old grandson on an expedition to the Phonebooth on 100th St. and West End Ave. He was beyond thrilled to put in his quarter and call his mom in Brooklyn. For a warm-up, I read him the children's book The Lonely Phonebooth by Peter Ackerman. It's about that exact Phonebooth at 100th and WEA.

One with deli mustard and sweet onions...

The Taino story was wonderful but the pay phone tale made me think that episodes like that go a ways to restoring my faith that even big cities can be communities.

The Taino story was wonderful but the pay phone tale made me think that episodes like that go a ways to restoring my faith that even big cities can be communities.

The Taino story was wonderful but the pay phone tale made me think that episodes like that go a ways to restoring my faith that even big cities can be communities.

My ninth grade algebra teacher told our class that when he was a teenager he had a crush on a girl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime. Lucky for her, he said, and he called her changing both of their lives forever. BTW I worked for the Bell Telephone System in the coin department for several years. You would not believe what people would do in and around the old booths (or maybe you would!)

As a kid caseworker i up in Westchester, one day I had the task of delivering an unhappy young lady to Penn Station, to put her on a bus headed home to Pennsylvania, as part of what was called Traveler's Aid. The real NY miracle of the day was that I found legal parking next to the Station. I just drove up and there was a space. I mean right next to the station. I needed to check back with my office to make sure that everything was set up, and found a pay phone on the lower level, called and gave them that number to . But I had to escort the girl upstairs, to go to the ticket booth. When I headed back down the stairs, about halfway down, I could see a guy walk over and pick up that pay phone. I sprinted the rest of the way, and he looked around, looked me up and down and said, I think this is for you. It was.

Re: Nothing Doing...a wry commentary on “the city that [supposedly] never sleeps!

About 55 years ago, my boyfriend (now husband) found a pay phone at Columbia College that, for a dime, would allow us to talk for hours into the night. What bliss it was to understand ourselves and each other, and for only 10 cents.

The phone booth story reminds me of “ Sam the ice cream man” a Stuyvesant Town/Peter Cooper institution in the 60’s. Every day in the summer Sam manned his Good Humor truck located on 20th St on the north east crosswalk between 1st and the East River. A few feet away was aTelephone booth which Sam would frequent to place his bets. We’d patiently wait for Sam to finish his call and sell us our ice cream bars. It was rumored that he was a bookie. We believed it true when the phone booth removed a few years later.

Re: Nothing Doing. All I kept thinking was the old saying, a day late and a dollar short.

I remember camping in the wilds of the Mojave Desert in California many years ago. There was a solitary phone booth that was live with a working number. It was put there in 1948 to service the miners at an old cinder mine. The mine closed decades ago but the phone booth was left quite alone with its number still live. Someone mentioned it way back when on a social website and from there word spread literally around the world. The phone would ring at all hours from folks everywhere. Pac Bell finally took it out in 2000. Before the computer age it was fun to chat with these folks. Interesting story https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mojave_phone_booth

"Summer Night" A forgotten pillow turns into a great memory. Nice story.

As I grew up in the ‘50s and ‘60s, my mother always made sure I had a dime in my pocket or purse to make an emergency phone call home. Or to call for a ride home when the matinee movie was over.

"Nothing Doing" is poignant. Two people looking for something "real" to do, not in front of a screen. Good for them. Hope you can come up with a longer list of fallbacks at some point.

A wonderful series that personalises NYC so very much for me. As an infrequent visitor in 1987, 1990 and 2015. Much appreciated.

Hello, it’s the hot dog man’s wife...she was confident that whoever answered would call him to the phone. So very NYC and so nostalgic...back when we really needed pay phones and they generally worked. A real delight I often answered random pay phones “Hello, Pasquale’s Deli”. Or “Hello, 23rd Precinct”. The responses could be surprising.

I read the Metropolitan Diary earlier this morning, but there was no comment section. “Say it ain’t so!” I said to myself. Now I’m back in the early afternoon, and the comments are open. Whew! I enjoyed all five entries today, but “Hello, Columbus Circle,” Denise Weber's story about the pay phone, really rang a bell with me. (Pun intended. Groan.) Many of us are old enough to remember life before cellphones. As Denise noted, there were pay phones everywhere. I remember seeing them on the streets, in restaurants, in stores, in schools, in post offices, nearly everywhere. I recall that I would often hear a pay phone ringing, but I never answered one, assuming that it was a wrong number. (Remember the days before spam calls?) I’m glad that you answered the pay phone, Denise. You made up for some of those calls that I did not answer. Now I’m wondering what the hot dog man’s wife wanted to tell him. Good news? Bad news? Or maybe just to pick up a quart of milk on the way home.

my daughter left her new tripod in its case on a bench right at an entrance into Central Park just a few weeks ago. We were filming children playing on the Alice in Wonderland playground when she suddenly realized that she was missing her equipment. it had been a good half hour. We were sure it was gone. She ran back. I waited and worried. Five minutes later she came back, tripod in hand. It was right where she left it. New Yorkers can surprise you.

I thought the pillow story would end with it gone for a second time, and this time the owners making peace with the loss.

Denise, that was wonderful!

Dear Henrietta, A relaxing walk in Central Park on a “perfect summer night,” a concert featuring selected arias from Italian operas, enjoying the unmatchable beauty of the sun setting to the west casting its glow over the park’s trees and the skyline of Manhattan. How very fortunate that your husband left that bed pillow in Tucker Square! Thank you for for a lovely Diary entry of a perfect serendipitous experience in the city. Be well and I hope you both enjoy many more such happy and unplanned adventures. Allen

An actual laugh-out-loud at the Columbus Circle phone call. Sweetly nostalgic too. Thank you!

"the neighborhood trash cans were umbrella graveyards" In the 90's a co-worker and I discussed the merits of the $3 and $5 dollar umbrellas sold by vendors that pop up like an afternoon thundershower. The $5 umbrellas were a little better quality however both were basically disposable after a few uses. When my wife and I traveled to Beijing in the fall of '96 we visited The Great Wall of China. On the bus there, it started pouring rain and the bus driver had cheap plastic ponchos conveniently for sale. Since this was a once in a lifetime chance almost everyone on the bus decided to brave the elements and climb the Great Wall. Getting off the bus wouldn't you know it, vendors were selling umbrellas for 28 Yuan, that's $3 US.

The Taino segment left me with a big smile and a glow of joy.