A New York minute

OK, I know it's been a while. But I have been busy adopting a second child, running a business, and, well... documenting all of it on Facebook. Sorry, Blog.

Anyway, we took the kids to NYC a couple of weekends ago on a very quick trip, and encountered a quintessential New York moment. It seemed a shame not to share it.

We were standing on Broadway, somewhere in Soho, and Dennis had just run into a Duane Reade to buy some size-6 diapers for Aaron. I was left outside on the busy sidewalk with my two strollers-full of purchases--and the two boys.

Suddenly, a door nestled in between the shops, which evidently leads to upper-floor apartments, burst open. A team of paramedics quickly shuffled out of the door, wheeling a disheveled man in his early 20s onto the sidewalk in some kind of wheelchair apparatus. The man was unkempt, unshaven, and undoubtedly unbathed. His wide eyes and open mouth were overshadowed by his claw-like hands, contorted into a pose reminiscent of a T-Rex toy we'd gotten in some fast-food meal.

Mesmerized by the sight of this poor soul, we barely noticed when the first paramedic, walking with his back to us, bumped into Koby and his stroller. The EMT turned around and saw Koby, mouth agape. Pausing briefly, he leaned down and at Koby's eye level, said in an almost blasé, if not slightly sarcastic tone, "Hey kid, stay in school, don't do drugs." Then he regained his cadence with the rest of the team, and the wheelchair-man was shoved into the back of a waiting ambulance.

The sidewalks still filled with people, moving up and down like the city's lifeblood through its shopping arteries and veins, had barely missed a beat. Koby looked up at me and asked me to explain what the man meant. While the message was easy to convey, I also wanted him to appreciate the New-Yorkedness of it. That day will come.