MSE on the Move is a place for our community to share their New York City stories: moments or encounters that might happen on your morning commute or on a walk to the grocery store. These stories should remind us that while everyone in this city is on their own journey, our paths often intertwine. Although we come from different boroughs, neighborhoods, and communities, we all share the remarkable experience of being New York City kids. In other words, we’ve seen some things…
MSE on the Move is based on a more famous column, the New York Times’ Metropolitan Diary. NYT readers submit a brief narrative on something they’ve witnessed or been party to in the city, and the short vignette is published in the paper. They can be humorous, heartwarming, or thought-provoking, and the best are all of the above. The same thing will (hopefully) be true for MSE on the Move, but this is only possible if you, the reader, participate. If you would like to submit a vignette, scan the QR code below! For the preliminary issue, we have one short story from a writer here at the Echo:
About three weeks ago, I was walking home from the supermarket. I had one of those little plastic grape bags full of bright green grapes. Near the end of my journey I was walking past a little clan of seemingly sketchy men, huddled ominously under the dark scaffolding. Most days, I avoid that street, but I was distracted by the music pumping through my headphones. As I walked past, still holding my grapes, a disheveled, bald, middle-aged man asked, “Yo can I get a grape?” In that second I saw that this stranger on the street really wasn’t threatening at all, so I took my earbuds out and handed him some grapes. As he ate his bunch of fresh grapes, he introduced himself to me: “I’m Uncle B.” I told him my name and he shook my hand. “I’ve seen you around the block, always listening to something in those headphones.” We talked for a bit longer. I told him I had just moved around the corner, and he told me about some of his favorite restaurants in the area. After a few minutes, I made my way to go. He dapped me up, and said I was his “homegirl.”
Now when I see him as I walk home, or go to the store — there’s always a friendly, pleasant wave, and sometimes even a bit of small talk. A simple interaction turned into a new unexpected friendship between two people. That group of men who hang out on that sidewalk don’t seem so intimidating now that I know one of the members is a friend. Those who feel afraid of exchanges like these miss out on an amazing opportunity. This aspect of strangers, people we may pass without a thought, but who are human, just like us — that’s what makes New York City so special. These interactions form the soul of our city.