Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The Beginning

One of my favorite things to do here in New York City is to wander. I love walking around without a particular destination in mind, no time frame to follow, no schedule to keep, just wandering. Looking, feeling, admiring, being. I also love talking to people. Living near Central Park has been a huge blessing because I can wander and I can talk to people.

During one of my first wandering sessions in Central Park I was walking on one of the main paths and I saw an elderly woman in a lawn chair holding an umbrella sitting next to her cart. I felt like sitting down and having a chat with her so I sat down on the bench next to her and said "you sure have the right idea sitting here in the shade." In a soft voice with a thick New York accent she tilted her head up and looked at me through her large tinted glasses and said "yeah, it's too hat out heah" [it's too hot out here]. What then pursued was a lovely conversation. She told me that she had lived in New York her entire life. She told me about her children and grandchildren, how the city had changed, and that I should be careful and "never let anyone in yur house except for yur family." When I told her that I was from Utah her eyes opened wide and with surprise said "are yu Mormon!" smiling I replied "yes" and without breaking eye contact she said "ah, Mormons are very poor." I had to laugh a little and I matter-of-factly said "well, some are doing alright." She asked for my name and when I asked for hers she introduced herself as Mrs. Rivera.

She told me that she was waiting for her husband; just as she was saying that I saw an elderly gentleman walking with a cane slowly creeping up behind her with a big smile on his face. As he approached he said with his equally thick New York accent in a tone of accomplishment "I just wolked from 104th street in da sun!" Mr. Rivera came and sat down next to me. He was wearing some kacki shorts a polo shirt, and saddles with white socks that came up to his knees. Mrs. Rivera introduced me to him and said "this is Cole, he is a Mormon." She then announced to both of us that she was feeling cold and that she wanted to go sit in the sun, Mr. Rivera told her to go ahead because he had walked plenty and wanted to rest a bit and talk with me.

Mr. Rivera's soul smiled and it poured out of his eyes. He told me about his family moving from Puerto Rico to NYC and how he has worked as a waiter his entire life. He told me about his successful children (one is judge, another a executive in a financial firm) and how his grandchildren are now studying to be a doctor and a lawyer. He shared with me that he has always loved learning, particularly languages. He never graduated from High School and wasn't able to go to college, so he would go down to the public library and check-out books, take them home, and study them during the evenings when he would return from work. His native language was Spanish, he quickly learned English when he moved to the NYC, and from his personal studies he taught himself how to speak French, Italian, Portuguese, and Japanese. As he spoke I could picture him sitting down around a small kitchen table with one light illuminating the pages of the most recent book he had borrowed and around the corner I could see his children seeing their father's love of learning. During our conversation he would go off speaking in different languages, and several times small groups of Japanese speaking people would pass by and he would greet them warmly. There were several elders being pushed in wheelchairs and when they would hear Mr. Rivera greet them in their language their faces would light up. While we were talking I think that he extended a warm greeting to pretty much everyone that passed us. Towards the end of our conversation his eyes landed on his wife who was then sitting in her chair at the end of the long bench soaking in the sun watching people pass her by. Smiling he told me that they had been married for over sixty years. He paused and just smiled at her. His eyes told stories of sixty + years of learning, growing, laughing, and loving. "I taught my boyz to treat women with respect and care. That's how we have lasted so long." He paused again and he panned around the park soaking in all the sights and sounds, and smiling said "it sure has been a great story." Mrs. Rivera came walking up at that point and said that she was done for the day and that they should go and buy some milk. Mr. Rivera pulled himself up with his cane and laughing says "I hope you brought some money!" and she quickly replied "well, all I got is a few dollah's" with the same level of animation he said "well dat bettah be enough for a gallon a milk." I sat there for a bit and I saw them walk down the path; she was pushing her cart and he was walking with his cane.

I spent almost two hours talking with Mr. and Mrs. Rivera in Central Park. I sure learned a lot. Mr. Rivera taught me that learning doesn't just happen in schools, it is a life-long journey. If we want to learn something, we can. Through his learning experience, he also taught me that as a future parent I need to live the kind of life that I want my children to live. If I want them to love learning, I have to love learning; if I want them to be kind to others, I need to be kind to others. Mr. Rivera also showed me that he cared about people. He learned their language, he greeted people with a smile, he complimented others, he laughed, he smiled. He didn't spend very much time telling me how I should treat my future wife, but I could tell by the way he looked at her that he really cared. And finally, I loved how he looked at his life like "a great story," because that's what it really is. We are all in the processes of a great story. There are ups and downs, good times and bad times, heros and villians, joy and pain, laughter and tears, big events and everday to-do's..... and when all is said and done it becomes a great story. This blog is just a little attempt to share some of my story with you.