‘The Man Looked Familiar, but I Couldn’t Quite Place Him’

Placing the Face

Dear Diary:

I had left my office building on 39th Street and Third Avenue and was heading toward the deli on the corner when my eyes met those of an older man who was wearing a black button-down shirt and standing on the sidewalk as though he was taking a break.

The man looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him in my memory. He noticed me too, and we stared at each other as he stood there and I continued walking.

We exchanged a polite nod of recognition. We knew each other, but from where?

I turned back before entering the deli, walked up to the man and smiled.

“Hey, didn’t you used to work at … ?” I asked.

“The barbershop on 89th and Broadway,” he said.

It all came rushing back. This man had cut my hair since I was a toddler on the Upper West Side. I had left the neighborhood years before and hadn’t seen him since.

He turned slightly and pointed to a barbershop on the corner of 39th that I had never noticed.

“This is my barbershop now,” he said.

“I work in the building across the street,” I said.

He suggested that I check out the shop the next time I needed a haircut. I plan to see him in a few weeks.

— Brian Kerr

Pete’s Camaro

Dear Diary:

I came to America in 1971 to attend graduate school at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N.Y.

I worked nights at a hamburger joint to make some extra money. The night manager was a young guy named Pete who was about my age.

We became quite friendly and at one point decided to take a day trip to New York City. We drove down in Pete’s Camaro.

The only time I had been in the city was when I passed through on my way to Troy after landing at J.F.K. Pete had grown up in Utica and had never been to the city. We spent the day walking around and took the subway to Canal Street and back.

When it was time for dinner, Pete just stopped a guy on the street and asked where Mamma Leone’s was. I was quite surprised when the guy gave us directions to the restaurant. I still remember the wonderful dinner we had there.

When it was time to head back to Troy, Pete stopped the car in the street.

“Hey, can you tell us how to get to the Major Deegan?” he asked the driver in the car next to us.

“Follow me,” the driver said. “I am going that way!”

— Ranjan Sonalkar

Anti-Comfort Zone

Dear Diary:

Like the sun in the evening sunk into its pillow
The main shadow is too big to see, the one in
Your head. I know because it sullies my view
Of the sky. I’ve loved looking up since childhood
Ever since Coney Island, the first time I saw the
Horizon. I could swear the moon was following
Me. It wasn’t until much later in life that I saw
Geese fly by like stacked bowling pins. Ever notice?
Everything is true for a second and then it’s not.
Am I the thing behind the universe? If me, then
Everyone. It actually takes a lot of discipline to
Be flexible. See how enjoyment feels bigger
When it bides discomfort. Animates every little
Thingy, one honk after another, sometimes together.

— Lila Dlaboha

A Slice

Dear Diary:

He carried the box while they held each other’s hands, their sweat stuck between warm, tanned palms.

They walked down the cobblestone street, and she kept her heels out of cracks in the ground. New York heat held her neck. It smelled like new deodorant, smoke, like summertime.

She put her head near his ear.

They sat at the bottom of a Brooklyn stoop — the lights were on — and he passed her a slice.

Their elbows touched.

She wiped the corner of his lip and put her leg over his.

He traced constellations between spots of orange oil on her scabby knees.

“It tastes good,” she said.

“The cheese?” he asked with a laugh.

“Yeah.”

He whispered in her ear.

“But we’re on the street,” she said.

“Come on,” he said, and took her hand again.

— Laila Hartman-Sigall

No Room

Dear Diary:

I was on a crowded elevator at the 72nd Street Q train station on my way up to the street on a recent evening.

The woman standing next to me was holding a lovely bouquet.

“Nice flowers!” I said.

“Yeah,” she replied. She was dressed casually, in a blouse, jeans and sneakers. “I got married today.”

Everyone in the elevator came alive.

“Congratulations,” one person said.

“Wow!” said another.

“That’s great,” someone else said.