Lemons into lemonade

Today the plan was to take the express bus to the Bronx and meet my friend Marion and have lunch at a favorite spot of hers in Bronxville.  Got there at 7:50 for the 8:15 bus.  A sign said because of the Sikh Festival on Madison Avenue the buses where on Park Avenue.  There were no signs for buses on Park Avenue   I knew, deep inside, from experience, that there would be no bus on Park Avenue.  Did I mention my 16 years of Catholic school and my Irish catholic immigrant parents.  I love them; may they rest in peace;  we did what we were told.  So I waited until 8:45 for a bus that I knew wasn't coming.
So I went to the festival and had a great time.  It is the Sikh tradition, once a year, to feed others, and that's what the festival was: tables of free food.  Lovely, pleasant, happy people sharing what the have.
                                     
                                                        In Madison Square Park
                                                                 

                                                                                         

And lastly this:  a lovingly remembered N.Y. street presence.  It takes me back to all the times my Mom and I would go downtown to buy my school clothes.  We'd walk and walk, maybe have a bite at the automat, but we'd always keep our eye on the "big clock".  So we'd get home in time for dinner.  Not a lot of working class people had wristwatches in the 1940's and early 50's and there were big clocks all around the city.
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