When I graduated from college a, ahem, longish time ago, I moved to the East coast, in search of, well, something. If I’d known the ultimate goal was chickens, I could have saved myself the circuitous route, but what fun would that have been? On a business trip to NYC that first poverty-stricken year out of school, I heard about the River Cafe. It must have just opened back then, but was already famed for its cozy niche beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, the twinkly-light view of the river and the city across the way, and for the lavish armfuls of flowers that greet guests at the entry and on tables.
For reasons that apparently made sense at the time (I believe my salary was a whopping $8,000 a year), I dipped into the next month’s rent money and made a dinner reservation. The restaurant did not disappoint, and the memory of the evening has long outlasted the financial shortfall it created. The decades have flown, but the River Cafe is still there, replete with buckets of hydrangea, delphinium and pink-scented lilies.
The wallet still ebbs and flows, what with recessions, college tuitions, apartment purchases and the like, but history has taught me to appreciate memories as much as money, and luckily, I have two young friends in Brooklyn who were willing to share in this one with us old folk.
Thus, I returned to the River Cafe last night with the CE in tow and we met Alexandra and Roseanne there. It’s always so interesting to hear about their lives as they make their way in the big city. Their parents must be so proud of them!
Roseanne is in her second year with Teach For America (read about the organization here: http://www.teachforamerica.org/) and Alexandra is a publicist with a major publishing firm. As such, she is an inveterate reader, and currently recommends The Help (http://www.kathrynstockett.com/). I have ONE more Canto to go in The Purgatorio and then I can check it out…
It was a treat to return to the River Cafe after all these years, and somehow, all the more special to be there with these young women just starting to learn what they’re searching for in life. Most likely not chickens in their case. Whatever it is, it was nice of them to sit down with us oldsters under the Brooklyn Bridge and mix worlds for a bit. I guess, after all, that’s exactly what bridges are for.