It was Christmas The doorbell rang and there was Kay.
Kay had been the first woman in lots of things. Newspapers, magazines, publishing....
But, I only knew her as my neighbor Pat's younger sister, the one who, although just about blind, made sure
Pat answered the phone, got fed, was OK ... the one who before
the big hurricane hit was going to go unaccompanied across town to get
her big sister to safety.
So, of course, when I saw Kay, practically barefoot at my front door, I thought something was wrong.
"You need to come over and help Pat," she said.
I shouted for the Mariner and rushed next door.
And there on the kitchen island was tons of food.
From the Second Avenue Deli.
"They sent it up from Florida, but we don't eat that much. Take what you want. Can you see if Olga is home?"
So I got Olga from upstairs and the Mariner got a tupperware and we all had Christmas dinner standing around the kitchen island.
R.I.P. Rags, Our Beloved Neighbor, Our Dearest Friend
Sunday Memories: Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future
They Don't Have Real Food Where She Lives
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