We had one of those plans that is the kind of thing we would do.
- Take a train into Grand Central.
- Walk around Grand Central.
- Get a black-and-white cookie.
- Take a train back to Greenwich.
OK, that wasn't all we did but, in essence, that was the idea of today.
We promised ourselves we'd be on a reasonably early train to get into Manhattan before the crowds did, so we walked over to the train station and were on a train shortly after 9 a.m.
Then, we walked.
We strolled some of Grand Central Terminal, taking in the magnificence of the hub that has welcomed passengers since 1913. Sean has been a bit of a rail fan since he was little and he always enjoys getting a chance to ride trains.
In this case, he also enjoyed anything he walk to that involved the Pokémon game has was playing on his phone. Believe me, this is a win for me since it fought any boredom he might feel during our travels.
We left GCT and went to Times Square for our first stop in our pursuit of treats: Krispy Kreme.
Believe me, I'd be content if I never went to Times Square again because I hate the crowds and I frankly don't really like what it has become but there is something to be said about a donut on a Sunday morning with a small coffee while chatting with my Pokémon-crazed son.
Before you accuse either of us of having our heads too into our devices, we both always stay in the moment even if it doesn't seem like it. He thought I didn't care about what he was doing but I care enough to make sure he's making progress toward whatever he is doing in the game.
And, for what it's worth, I've continued to become even more like my father, rattling off stories that Sean seems to enjoy or at least be interested in.
Out of Krispy Kreme, we went somewhere for me: the Major League Baseball store on 50th St.
I'll cut to the chase: I didn't spend a dime. I was glad to see the store was buzzing (since baseball is, you know, dead and all) but nothing tempted me that much. The thing for these places to realize is that prices have to be tantalizing. A Derek Jeter 1996 jersey for $325 isn't going to get me to reach for my wallet.
I suppose had I seen more nostalgic-type items I might have been intrigued but nothing did it for me. But I enjoyed walking around a lot and given I'm often in the area for conferences I might have to visit again.
We crossed the street to walk by Radio City Music Hall (it's National Radio Day for what it's worth) and we chatted about how much I wanted to work at NBC. My heroes worked there. I loved their sports coverage.
Never say never, I suppose, but it made for a nice conversation.
After passing Rockefeller Center, we strolled up Fifth Ave and came across a truly-sad sight near Trump Tower. There, in the middle of the road, a group of anti-Trumpers holding a banner that said "TRUMP LOST" faced off with several vehicles filled with MAGA supporters. One of the vehicles had an earl-destroying horn that they weren't afraid to sound off.
That was enough for us. We walked away, grousing at how we both thought they were all wrong. The concept isn't difficult.
Across 57th Street, I had an idea to walk through Central Park and go somewhere that I, shockingly, have never been.
Fifteen blocks later, we arrived at Strawberry Fields, where a simple mosaic saying "Imagine" sits in the middle of the path. It opened in 1985 and it took nearly 38 years for me to visit.
It's not a place on a Sunday that is serene. Tourists made plenty of noise and crowded around while Sean dutifully stood nearby he was more engaged with Pokémon than The Beatles. A man sat on a bench playing a guitar and singing "Hey Jude" as others posed for pictures and took it all in.
I decided that we wouldn't stay long.
As the chaos rolled, I went into deep thought about John Lennon and the profound impact his passing had as I took a few pictures of my own.
A more private place to think was just across Central Park West: the Dakota, sadly the site where Lennon was murdered in 1980.
We paused there.
Well, actually we paused so I could plan our next step in our day, which now included roughly 40 blocks of walking. My back and feet weren't exactly thrilled with me but I was pleased with the exercise.
We walked around the corner to jump on the subway, changing at 42nd Street for the Times Square Shuttle back to Grand Central.
Oh, I thought plenty about John Lennon. There's much to think about. I've read scathing commentary about "Imagine" as a song and Lennon as a person. No doubt John was complicated. But he was also a poet, artist, activist, troublemaker, and wise ass. He was at times a tortured soul coming from a difficult past. But he also had a good heart and I truly feel like, at 40, he was rounding into being a better man than he had been.
And you might know he made some of the most incredible music ever.
He had been a bad husband to his first wife and wasn't great with Yoko in the 70s. Then came the "Lost Weekend." He wasn't great with Julian but they were heading to a better relationship after the birth of Sean.
Obviously, he wasn't great in his relationship with Mr. J. Paul McCartney either but there was plenty of blame to go around and they too were better by 1980.
Then it was all taken away on a Monday night that December. Howard Cosell told the world not long after.
So dump on John all you want. It's all open to interpretation and opinion but I look at him through a fair prism.
And with that, we returned to the very goal of our journey: the black-and-white cookie at Zaro's Bakery in Grand Central.
Armed with the delights we headed to our train, settled into our seats, and discovered that we were on an express train to Stamford.
Oops.
We casually walked off in plenty of time and shuffled eight tracks over to the proper train.
We're back home after a day that was heavy on footsteps and sort of taking everything in.
New York, at its most Manhattan, is a sensory overload. It's a city on steroids. Think about it. Times Square, myriad smells (some quite herbal), a Trump protest, loud horns, Central Park, softball, John Lennon, the subway, and food? That's a day right there.
It's still a city that, in a suburban way, I still call home.
So long as I feel safe (questionable at times) I love it.
It was a long overdue treat for us to do this today.
And we need to do it again.
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