Six Little Stories That Could Happen Anywhere.

By Karen

Funny and kind and unlikely things happen every day, everywhere. Here are a few that happened to me recently.

• I was walking down the street, very fast, in a pair of shocking pink pants. A woman and a man came out of their hotel, looked at me, and moved into my path as I walked toward them. Odd behavior, I thought. Then the woman raised her hand. I stopped. She said: Do you know you have a very large bug on your pants? I looked down and indeed there was a huge lanternfly on my thigh, very black against the pink. I shuddered and flicked it away, thanking her profusely. The man then said: We were a little nervous about telling you. We thought it might be a New York City fashion we knew nothing about. I assured him as far as I knew it was not. But I wondered. How weird do people think we are???

• The gentleman who cuts my hair is a true lover of theater. So, when I was last getting my hair done, I told him the story of Elizabeth Coplan, the delightful playwright from Seattle whose play is now being performed Off Broadway. (We saw it. It’s great!) I did not mention her name but told him all the details. He finally said: Oh come on. You’re being funny! Stop pulling my leg! I could not imagine what he was talking about. It turned out he had been styling her hair, and he thought I knew. A fancy producer had recommended him to Ms. Coplan for opening night glamour. Rather amazing that, of all the hair experts in NYC, she ended up with Damien.

• In a hotel lobby opposite Lincoln Center, I met with a very cool Lustre member, a Canadian expert on women’s health whom we hope you will all meet soon. She reached out when she was in New York, and we were having an engrossing talk when a woman walked into the lobby and called out loudly: Does anyone here know how to tie a tie? As it happens, I do, having spent many years in Catholic school in a uniform involving a tie. I raised my hand. She beckoned her husband from behind a pillar and pushed him toward me so I could tie his tie—from the front of course, which is awkward, but it worked. She explained he needed to be dressed formally but had never worn a tie. He said nothing but looked both mortified and relieved. Then my new friend and I resumed talking.

• Self checkout. What an invention. I was scanning groceries next to a woman checking out a can of soup. She scanned the can and put it down. The checkout machine chirped: Place item in the bagging area. She picked up the can and put it down again, harder. The machine chirped again: Place item in the bagging area. She put the can down a third time, very hard. The machine was now becoming irate: Place item in the bagging area! I leaned over and suggested she put the can on the other side. She did so. The machine then complained, loudly and obtusely: Unexpected item in the bagging area. The woman walked out. Without her soup.

• Newark is right next to New York, but I do not visit enough, even though Newark is having a real renaissance and a good friend lives downtown, in a wonderful building in a lively neighborhood. Not long ago I was invited to a meeting at the Innovation Cathedral, a deconsecrated church recently renovated by Don Katz, the founder of Audible, and a truly farseeing man devoted to revitalizing Newark. I walked there from the train station, and somehow my electronic guide got me lost. Or maybe I did that to myself. In any event, I went up to two gentlemen to ask them to point me in the right direction. They told me the Cathedral was several blocks away, and it was a little complicated to guide me from where we were. So, brushing aside my protests, one of them walked me the whole way, giving me little tidbits of Newark lore along the way. Kindness personified. I was moved.

• Every Saturday morning I shop at the Union Square Greenmarket. It is large and crowded, and you never know who might be there. A couple of weeks ago, I was waiting to get some maple syrup, next to two young men looking at the syrup and commenting in a language I did not know. The proprietor of the stall asked where they were from, and they replied, in English, Afghanistan. He asked if they knew what the syrup was, and they said no. So he explained that it came from a tree, described how to tap it from the tree, and talked about how it got to the Greenmarket. Then he offered a taste. The expressions on the young men’s faces reminded me of how my children looked the first time they had something sweet. Full of surprise and delight. That warmed my heart!

Do you have some little stories to share this holiday season? Merry Christmas!