A beautiful spring day (finally). Daffodils are at full staff, dog woods are flashing their flowers, cherry trees are pink and fuzzy creating what is the closest to an impressionist painting you can get. Central Park is ready to burst at the seams. Everywhere you walk on this 70 plus degree day there is proof that the winter of great change and consternation is behind us. People actually look happy? Coats are thrown over shoulders, people are sitting on benches basking in the sunshine. I am happy just to walk, feeling the vibe of spring arrived. Walking as much as I do on the Upper East Side, I see a lot of people, some regulars some not so regulars, like the she-male that rides around on his/her bike with her chiffon dress flowing, or the guy who wears the sandwich sign advertising a hair salon, or the many smokers who hang out on their stoops breathing in the elixir of death or the legion of dog walkers being led by herds of dogs, but on this spring day I was unfortunately presented with a sad remembrance and passage on the corner of 90th and Third Avenue on the plaza where a gentleman named Ivan, usually wearing his Veterans of War jacket and Yankee cap would sit in his blue, fold up chair smiling and taking in the sunshine, greeting everyone who passed by with a wave, a smile and a handshake. As I walked by I noticed his chair empty with a note attached to the back. Curious, I walked to the chair and read the sad obituary. It seems Ivan, whose name I never knew, had died and the note was a remembrance for the happiness he exuded on the plaza to everyone who passed. It made me very sad. As I walked away I thought about him and felt the warmth of sun and thanked him for his smiles, handshakes and good will all from a man I did not know but was always a source of happiness...
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