Metropolitan Diary; Say What?

SOME REALLY GOOD ONES THIS WEEK!

Dear Diary:

On a recent Sunday afternoon on the northern edge of Central Park , my daughter Dalya, age 6, and son Shachar, age 3, were enjoying the early days of spring, running around the playground and admiring the first daffodils of the season.

While Dalya settled into the tire swing, Shachar found himself playing with an older girl (age 7), and the two went sliding side by side.

Several hours later, presumably while reviewing the events of the day in his mind, and after 20 minutes of silence, Shachar turned to his big sister and, unprovoked, said to her: “Dalya, I love you. But in the playground I played with another girl.”

-Shira Hecht-Koller


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Dear Diary:

File this under “Starting to feel old.”

Place: A recent evening performance, just before curtain, at the Off Broadway musical “Adding Machine,” based on Elmer Rice’s 1920s play.

Dramatis Personae: Me, my 17-year-old daughter and, seated next to us, a 20-something couple.

Twenty-something woman to her date: “What’s an adding machine?”

-David Tane


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Dear Diary:

One afternoon a few years ago I found myself at the checkout counter of my local Duane Reade. The middle-aged woman working the cash register rang up my purchase.

“That’ll be $32.97,” she announced.

I took two $20 bills out of my wallet and handed them to her.

“Do you have 97 cents?” she asked.

-David Wertheimer


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