Living in New York I have a ticket to the most open, vulnerable, and private moments of humankind.  All I have to do is look up.

It is easy to tune out the world.  I often squint my eyes in a crowd so I can better see the zig-zag maze of empty space that I must squeeze through to get from A to B.  Elevators are now equipped with little TVs so I can focus on the time, weather, and a tidbit of the day, without ever having to look anyone in the eye.  I open my book on the subway, a newspaper in the park, a program at a show.  I plug in my ipod on the street, scan billboards, make random phone calls, just to distract myself from all these people surrounding me.  Thousands of people pass me every day but I have readily equipped myself with gadgets and gizmo's so I have to acknowledge no one.  And no one has to acknowledge me.

But today was one of those days where I forgot my book.  My ipod was recharging at home.  And no one was calling me back.  It was one of those days where I had no agenda, and I was left alone,  to wander the streets.  I had nothing to do but watch. 

I saw a woman on her cell phone on the Upper West Side who stopped suddenly in her tracks.  Her hand went over her mouth and tears came to her eyes.  She was probably on her lunch break- off to get a turkey wrap at Pax - when she made a phone call home and was struck with terrible news.  I watched her as she hugged the windows of Pottery Barn.  Her body slowly sliding down them, until she was crouched on the sidewalk.

I saw a new mother breast feeding her newborn on a park bench.  Singing a sweet made-up melody.

I saw a new bride and groom posing for pictures in Central Park.  I saw a funeral commencing and grown men huddled together.  I saw old friends meeting up at a diner and blushing at the sight of one another, hugging real hugs and smiling real smiles.  I saw a little girl practice her lion roar. 

I saw a man completely asleep.  His head was tilted back and his mouth was wide open.  He was oblivious to his snores and his bobbing head.  So deep in sleep.  So out of it.  The only person who gets to see this side of him is probably his wife lying in bed next to him or catching him asleep in front of the TV.  But I got to see it today.  And although on most days I would find this display more than slightly repulsive, today I saw it differently.  I saw it as a secret.  A window to a very, very tired man.

How many times have we accidentally laid our heads on a strangers shoulder on our ride home?  How many times have we made a pass at a Starbucks?  How many times have we fought, laughed a little too loud, cried in public?  How many times have we said "I love you" on the corner of 57th and Broadway?  How many times have we "lost it" in Hell's Kitchen?  (Just me?)  How many times have we kissed goodbye in Union Square?  "You going uptown?  Oh, I'm going downtown."

I remember all those first dates in the City.  How strange they were.  No doors to drive up to.  No opening of the car door and walking up to your parent's porch.  Instead you're forced to create romance and muster some form of mojo within the dirty walls and screeching trains and hundreds of people making a connection, as you try to connect, for a moment, and seal the deal for date #2.

As I traveled home on the train tonight, a young red headed boy walked on and sat across from me.  He was a skinny thing, probably a freshman, dressed in a school uniform and yamaka and he started to unwrap a gift that he had been hiding in his backpack.  I wondered why he chose now, in this crowded subway, to unwrap this gift?  Why not when he got home?  Why not before in front of the Gift-Giver? 

He was careful with the wrapping.  Looked birthday-ish.  He put the paper back in his bag and opened the box. 

Inside was a very large book with gold lined pages.  A beautiful hardcover of the Torah. 

He was immediately touched.  His neck flushed as he flipped through the crisp pages of his new book.  His smile was infectious.  He turned to the front cover and read the note the Gift-Giver had scribbled inside.  His eyes welled and his whole body took one long deep breath.

How sad I was that the Gift-Giver was not there to witness his pure elation.  To see how touched he was to have received his most perfect gift.  And although I felt pity for the great aunt, or mentor, or his new girlfriend, or father, that they didn't get to be here, in this moment in time, I felt a certain privilege and terribly grateful to have shared this with him, in my very own front row bucket seat.

We are amazing creatures aren't we?  Capable of such warmth, such pain, such shock, such awkwardness, such joy.  And because we are all smooshed together on this tiny little island, many times our most open, our most heart-felt, and our most beautiful moments are ones in public, for everyone to see.  If their eyes are open.



Ericka's Shout Outs:  I got to see my friend Jen Childs performing in The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe in Philly.  If you are nearish, it is a must-see.  Playing all of October at Walnut Street Theatre.  A tour de force that will leave you tickled, tender, and completely mesmerized at her enormous talent.  Rock on Jen!

Jeremiah and Sheila have tied the knot!

Rachel and Karel welcome baby Grace in the world!