“Can I pull out the tulips?” I said to Richard. “ My knees are in bad shape and I’m afraid of making them worse by kneeling on them.” He replied, “Sure, do what’s best for you, no need to hurt yourself.” It began to pour as I walked over to the shocking pink and red tulips that were in the main garden. Richard said, “you don’t have to work in the rain, go home.” I said, “Richard, rain won’t hurt me.” I proceeded with my job of pulling up the tulips and I loved working in the rain and there was a perk in taking home as many tulips as I could carry. While I was knee deep in dirt, I briefly looked up at the tall buildings surrounding the park and was amazed at the contrast.

Just then the wind began to blow, and many of the pink cherry blossoms floated off the trees into the air and fell to the ground. I stood there feeling I was in the middle of pink snow. The blossoms covered everything including me, and I felt like a fairy princess. The garden maintenance workers were hurrying like crazy to clean up the blossoms, but they finally gave up because there were so many of them and they just kept coming. They were just trying to do their job, and I was loving the pink snow.

I proceeded with trying to get the bulbs out along with the tulips, but those bulbs wanted to stay in the ground. They were giving me a real hard time and not coming out so easily. Just then a man by the name of Rodrigo walked by and said, “may I have some of the tulips?” I said, “sure take as many as you like.” He told me that it was for his garden in Brooklyn and he said “I wasn’t even planning to walk through the park, but I decided it was shorter and here I am and look what I’ve found.” I asked him “do you work in the City?” He said, “no, but I used to. I worked at the World Trade Center. I was on the 27th floor when the attack happened.” There was silence. We looked into each other’s eyes. Just then the gardener walked over and began talking to Rodrigo and me. I shared with them that I was a healer and that I worked with a modality called Plant Spirit Healing and that I was totally in my element. Richard said, “you need to read The Magic Life of Plants. I’ll bring the book for you the next time we meet.” Richard showed me a piece of soil that was leftover from 9/ll, covered with dust and the dirt crumbling into more dust. Richard said, “I lost a lot of people in the WTC. There used to be a woman that would visit me frequently in the park. I would give her flowers from the garden. After the attack I stopped seeing her, and then her friend came by one day, and I asked her friend ‘where is your other friend?’ She said, ‘she was lost in the WTC.’" Chills ran up my spine and I looked into Richard’s eyes and there was more silence. He went off to do more gardening and I continued on with the tulips.

Just then a young couple came by on their bicycles. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand and they told me it was Czechoslovakian. They wanted some flowers for their garden in Long Island, so I asked them to join me in the garden and whatever bulbs they were able to root out, they could take home with them. They said “we came into NYC to go on the bike tour that is happening today, but we were stopped in the beginning of the tour because we weren’t wearing our helmets, so we decided not to waste the day and do some sightseeing on our bikes.” I said to them “this is the magic of the City. They smiled in full agreement and we continued on our work together. They stayed in the garden with me for an hour and then went on their way. Many more tourists came over to me. Some couldn’t speak English, but I knew what they wanted, and when I gave them some tulips their faces would light up. The entire park was lit up with these happy faces that had received the gift of flowers.

I worked in the garden for 3 hours and then it was time to leave. I exchanged good-byes, feeling exhausted, happy and full of joy. I came up to my apartment, dumped all of my dirty clothes in a pile, jumped into a hot shower, fell into bed and slept for 4 hours. When I awoke it was 4:30pm and I couldn’t believe how long I had slept, but my body felt rested and I got dressed and walked outside deciding what to eat for dinner.

Sherri Rosen has had her own publicity business in NYC for ll years. She’s a mom, writer, performer, interfaith minister, and singer. She’s missed City Hall Park since she moved to Harlem a year ago.

She would often say to him “say my name.” He would say “Sarah” in his Scottish brogue and she would melt. He would say to her “say my name” and she would lovingly say “Martin.” That was all they needed in the moment. “I can’t wait to see you Sarah. I can’t wait to meet you in person. We will have so much fun in NYC together.” She agreed and said “this is magic connecting with you. You’re an old soul that I have known from past lifetimes.” Sometimes he would call her on the weekend at 4am his time and 11pm her time. His speech was kind of lazy and slow, and when he would speak it felt like he was making love to her. Sometimes he would leave a v/m saying “it’s only me calling to say hi.” She would say to herself “it’s only me! Does he have any idea how happy he makes me feel?”

One day she was sitting on her sofa with one of her female friends, and she said “you have to hear Martin’s voice, it’s so sexy and that Scottish brogue is to die for.” Her friend said “I’m so turned on by Craig Ferguson,” a Scotsman on late-night TV, so her friend was more than willing to hear the v/m message. Sarah held her breath as she dialed her phone for messages and she gave the phone to her friend to hear Martin’s voice. Her friend took the phone, listened and smiled and said “you’re right. He sounds so sexy. What a great voice. His voice sounds so deep and rich. Wow!” Sarah took a breath and was so relieved. She had been involved in online dating for 6 years, and from past experience learned that long distance relationships didn’t work for her. When Martin contacted her he said “Sarah, I’m thinking of moving to NYC. One of my students got accepted to the Actors Studio in NYC and I have visited her a few times and I love NYC. I would rather be alone in NYC than Scotland. All of my friends are either attached or married.” He was trying to break out of that lifestyle and really didn’t want to get married. She had also told him “I have no interest in getting married either,” but after 2 months of speaking to him, she had fallen in love with him, and now was unsure about everything. Many times she wanted to jump through the phone so he could make love to her. On one phone call, Martin spoke of what was in Sarah’s heart. Martin said “I don’t understand why people have to keep running to go away all the time because there is so much beauty in front of them. Especially where I live.” When Sarah heard Martin say that she totally melted. It was exactly how she felt. How did he know? She rarely heard a man speak like this. He made her feel like a line from the song, “Suzanne,” he touched my perfect body with his mind.

They were both lonely. They felt so lucky. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he kept saying to her. “This is so much more serious than I thought it would be.” He spoke with amazement in his voice and she would keep saying “this is magic, utterly magical.” If he didn’t call her, she would call him. She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to allow this opportunity to pass her by. She was in love with him. She told Martin “I’ve gone out on so many dates that turned out to be so disappointing. Guys that said they were one age, and then when I would meet them, they either didn’t look like their photo or they were so much older than they said, or I just couldn’t talk to them and/or wasn’t attracted them.”

Sarah had been married twice, had raised 4 boys, and had been with many men, and her last relationship had been with a wonderful man that had lasted 5 years, but the man had been tied to his mother and Sarah walked away. Sarah said to Martin, “have you ever been in relationship? Martin said, “yes, I was in two long-term relationships.” That’s all Sarah wanted to hear.

If she could only hear his voice right now. Right at this moment. Now, all he would do was call and hang-up. Wouldn’t talk. What makes a man love speaking to you, and then end up calling and hanging up? She was so saddened by it all. He had wanted her so bad, really bad. She felt the same way, but she hadn’t changed her feelings. “When did he change?” Sarah said. “When did he stop wanting to be with me? How did it all happen?” But now he would just call and hang up. When things were good between them she would see sometimes on her caller ID, that he had called 11 times until he reached her. Oh, she missed him so. She had been so ready for him. All the time he kept saying to her “this has never happened to me before” she realized that it had never happened to her before. She realized it after it failed.

“Perhaps he was preparing me on the phone” she said to herself. She remembered the time he said “you’re so gorgeous, you will be so disappointed when you see me. My skin is chalk-white from the lousy weather in Scotland,” but Sarah thought he was being humorous, because he had a wonderful sense of humor.

His first night in he came directly to her apartment on the 25th floor. When she first saw him, Sarah was taken by surprise by his physical disability. Martin had no neck. Sarah hesitated for that moment when she first saw him, and said to herself “does it change your feelings for him?” She answered “no” to herself. “I could care less.” She opened up her arms and he walked right in and they kissed. They walked hugging one another into her apartment. She showed him around; it was so difficult containing all of the powerful feelings she had for him. They sat on her sofa. He was exhausted being up for 24 hours. She pulled herself towards him and rested on his chest. She wanted to make it easy for him. She soulfully kissed him, their tongues entwined around one another. His arms wrapped around her, and hers wrapped around him. They touched each other’s bodies. Her skin felt like satin with his touch. It was great being together for the first time.

He hadn’t eaten in many hours, and Sarah knew he wanted to go over to Battery Park City to a wonderful restaurant on the water she had told him about. They both loved water. He was surrounded by it living in Scotland, and worked on a ferry when he was growing up. She had grown up in New England, on the water. The water was her lover to contemplate, write or just hangout with. They walked hand in hand towards Ground Zero to get to the restaurant. He had originally told her on the phone “I haven’t gone to Ground Zero because I hate to see them sell souvenirs of the WTC.” Sarah said “we can walk down another street.” But he said he didn’t mind. It was a lovely evening, holding hands, getting used to one another, walking, and sitting and snuggling on a bench looking at the water. So often she had been there alone. It felt so good to be with him. Sarah loved holding hands with Martin.

Sarah knew the relationship was falling apart by the 3rd day. It was a Sunday evening and they had been together earlier in the day and as he was leaving he said to her “I will call you tonight,” but he never did. She called him that evening. Earlier, Martin said to Sarah “I have to be with my theatre student, because she’s in a play and needs someone to direct her and the other actors and she asked me to direct her and I said yes.” When he told Sarah she replied “why are you pushing me away? I want to spend time with you.” Sarah’s jealousy and yearning to be with him were made known to him. He didn’t like that. Oh how she wanted to hear him say “don’t worry about it, we will work it out. Remember we will be going to theatre together, walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, going fishing. We will have lots of time together. Don’t you worry about it.” But he never did. He just got angry and said “I came here for a vacation, not to be stressed out.”

Sarah couldn’t hold back the tears while she spoke to him. She knew if either one continued the conversation she would never see him again. “Oh, she said to herself,” if only he had spoken to me gently, if only he had said “Sarah we will work it out. I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me.” Sarah had made a commitment to herself before Martin came to town, saying “I’m going the whole way with this relationship no matter what happens. I’m not going to run away.” What Sarah was unaware of was that no matter how much she wanted to speak to Martin to see what was wrong, he would remain silent. “He never once seemed to care about me like he did on the phone,” Sarah said to herself. “The only time I felt Martin cared about me in NYC was the first time he came to my place and we went to dinner.”

While speaking to Martin over the past 2 months, Sarah was unaware of an amazing transformation that was happening to her, but realized it when Martin began running away. Sarah said surprisingly to herself “I’ve never treated a man so kindly and so gently, so lovingly under adverse circumstances until Martin. I’ve never accepted anyone so completely.” Something told her even when he got so angry that she must be kind and gentle to him. Although Sarah knew he needed much love and kindness she said to herself “I also want that kindness. I want that love. I thought he would love me like his kids.” He doesn’t say any of the things to me he said on the phone. Where did he go? Where is that man on the phone?”

Sarah realized she was no longer in search of a relationship. When the time was right it would come to her, willingly, without fear, and with someone who would love her unconditionally. In the meantime, she so appreciated her life and would be open to any delicious lovers that would come along. She would never give up on love and she also knew that she would always love Martin.

The day after Martin left NYC without saying good-bye, Sarah walked into City Hall Park to contemplate. As she was walking in, she heard the sounds of Scottish bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace.” She sat down on the bench totally blown away.

I felt nurtured in the sun, and great joy looking at the voluminous colors of spring tulips in luscious, full bloom.

The young dancer was now in my periphery. “Get out of my way,” my mind kept saying, “go somewhere else, don’t dance here.” She was making fun of the passersby dressed in business attire, there was no joy, just making fun. She seemed to enjoy humiliation.

I grew up Jewish in New England and was constantly humiliated by the kids after school, running after me and throwing garbage and tin cans at me while yelling out “dirty Jew, dirty Jew.” David Spinney was especially frightening, threatening me in the schoolyard each and every day. I asked my mom if she would meet me after school to walk home with me, but she always said “No,” and dad was never around and thought I was always making up stories.

Time went on and I went to a junior college down South. I was the only Jew. Friends would invite me to their homes, and then report back what there parents said about my visit. “If we knew she was such a nice Jew, we would have invited her sooner.” I found out later that these parents were part of the Klu Klux Klan. The second year I was there I had a private room and kept my door locked at night. One afternoon, I walked into my room and smelled rotten cheese. Someone had smeared it all over my lipsticks and when I opened my close closet doors, there were meat bones hanging with blood dripping down to the floor.

I moved to another bench in City Hall Park. One that was far away from the dancer, and where I was surrounded by yellow, white, pink and red tulips. I was glad I had become an Interfaith Minister two years prior.

I was reading my magazines and enjoying the outdoors when I began to hear this loud screaming. Living in NYC, you get used to this kind of sound, so I continued on with my reading, but the screaming didn’t stop and it became very loud at times. The screaming was full of anguish and pain, and I turned around and off in the distance I saw this black man in a blue nylon jacket walking back and forth, at the gate facing City Hall, waving his fist at the people standing out in front of City Hall.

The sounds emanating from him almost made me want to go over to speak to him to see what had happened to him, but I got scared and I didn’t really have confidence that I could handle the situation.

So I went back to my reading, still hearing this constant cry of anguish in the background. I finally got up to go, and I turned around and watched this man walking back and forth, once again shaking his fist towards the direction of City Hall. Again I was tempted to go over to him to try to comfort him.

I then walked out of the park to go back up to my office. I was very upset about the man in the park, and then I turned on the TV and the news came on. Over the weekend, some man had been shot 50 times, along with his 2 friends, coming out of bar after celebrating this man’s wedding which was to occur the next day. The groom died and the 2 friends survived.

There was a press conference being called at City Hall and Al Sharpton and some other clergy were attending the press conference. I said a prayer for the man in the park and all of us who are affected by this unacceptable behavior by the police.

He seem to be around 70 years old, white hair, thin, black sunglasses, black skin, obviously blind, and singing Nat King Cole’s song “When I Fall In Love.” When I was a little girl, to me Nat King Cole was my fantasy dad, because he had such a beautiful, calming voice, and I always felt he was singing just for me. I stood there and listened to the man playing and singing and the next thing I knew, I began singing along with him. “It will be forever, or I’ll never fall in love again. And the moment that I feel that you feel that way too is when I’ll fall in love with you.” By this time I was standing right in front of him and we ended the song together. He had such a surprised look on his face when he heard someone joining him in song. I reached out and touched his hand. He looked up at me as though he could see and said, “You must be gorgeous!” I said to him, “You can see.”

He said, “No, I’m blind.”

“No you’re not, you see, you see with your heart.”

He stood up. “Can I hug you?” he asked.

“Of course you can.” As we hugged one another, I looked around at the people waiting for the downtown subway, and there was one woman with a big smile on her face that radiated right through my bones.

His name was Bobby Blow and he lived at The Home For The Blind on West 23rd Street. He said that he was going to have a big birthday party for his 70th year, gave me the date, and wanted me to come and I told him I would. Just then my train was approaching, we hugged again, and I left to go home and Bobby contined playing.

He was like the Mayor of the 23rd Street Subway. Everyone seemed to know him. “Bye, Bobby,” I yelled out as I got onto the subway. He waved good-bye to me and yelled out, “Goodbye gorgeous.”

Bobby’s party was one month later, but I never went. What I did do is call him a year later. When he got on the phone, I introduced myself to him and refreshed his memory. I told him that I had written a story about him, and asked if I could read it to him. He said “sure, but I have to quiet down my damn roommate first.” “Shutup,” Bobby said to his roommate, ”I got some important business to take care of on the phone.” Bobby said, “okay, you can begin. Sometimes my roommate is a pain in the ass.” When it got quiet I began to read, and at the end there was silence on the other end. Bobby said, “God damn, that was a great story. You wrote that about me? Well I’ll be God damned. I just love that. Thank you for thinking of me and writing about me. “

This summer I graduated from an Interfaith Ministry in NYC, and during graduation week we had a talent show. It’s a tradition that they have at the school with each graduating class. I got up and began telling the ministers this story between me and Bobby Blow, which is now three years later since it happened. After I finished sharing the story one of the ministers came up to me and said “Sherri, I know Bobby Blow, I visit him every week at the Home for the Blind.”

I never saw or heard Bobby again at the West 23rd Street subway, but Bobby is and will be in my memory bank, just like Nat King Cole.

After I gave him the time we began to talk. His name was Alex and he was a musician. He had been playing music since he was nine years old. He spoke about growing up in Rochester and seeing all of the jazz greats that would come to town–Dinah Washington, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie. You name them and he was in their presence. He played the sax, piano and I don’t know what other types of instruments and was self-taught. He moved to NYC in his early 20’s and got straight jobs working in banks and finance companies to keep himself going with his music. He played all over the world and the week I met him he was getting ready to leave for Finland and Sweden and would be gone for a week. It appeared he didn’t make much money, living a simple life and loving his music.

When he was young and working to finance his music in NYC he began to feel the unkindness, racism and being passed over for promotions on the straight jobs. So much so that one day, he got up in the morning, packed a small bag, and left his place to live and play in the streets, which turned out for a period of twenty years. He never dreamed that he would be out on the streets for so long. He played anywhere he could, and when he first began playing in the streets music was banned in public places and the subways, but through the years that began to change. He had a room in a local crack house, but somehow never seemed to get involved with all of the drugs and the prostitutes who hung out there. He had his music. He had to watch his back at all times, meeting up with many people who wouldn’t think twice of killing him or throwing him over the side of a building. To this day he doesn’t know how he got through it all.

When he spoke he had a loving, kind and compassionate sound to his voice, as though he had come through hell and was now on the other side. He appeared to me as a black angel. He had so much soul in him and was so mesmerizing that I forgot where I was and how much time had gone by. He had no regrets and he told me that he wanted to now play his music, not hurt anyone that he would ever come in contact with and find a good woman. While speaking to him I realized that he and I had come from completely different backgrounds, but the one thing we had in common is that we both had come through hell and come out on the other side. Somehow this poem comes to mind “No one knows his name—a man who lives on the streets and walks around in rags. Once I saw that man in a dream. He and God were constructing an extraordinary temple.”

When I looked closer at him, I could see the cold on his skin that he had lived with all those years. He told me that he had seen other homeless people die from the cold. Once it got to them, they couldn’t move and it would overtake them and they would fall asleep and never wake up. Alex knew if he didn’t get off the streets soon, he would die like the others. He couldn’t take the cold any longer. Today what keeps him warm is a roof over his head, his music and thoughts of being with a good woman. Don’t know if I could ever be with someone like Alex. Does he even know how to care for himself? Does he know how to care for a woman? His voice is very loving, but does it reflect his actions?

After speaking for some time he looked at me and said, “You are so beautiful. Your eyes are so big and brown. When I speak to you I know you understand, you totally understand what I am saying.” Jokingly, he said to me, “When are we going to move in together.” “I don’t know,”, I said. “But let’s check this out. There just might be something worthwhile here.”

He kissed me on the cheek and left. He was to leave for Europe in two days. Would I ever hear from him again? Who knows. Who knows.