Notes by Nora…
A few summers ago, I spent several weeks in New York with my daughter while she trained with Joffrey Ballet Company. Our apartment sat on top of an Italian restaurant, sending flavorful scents of garlic and pesto through the cracks in the floor. Joe’s Café was a quaint coffee shop just around the corner from our humble abode in Greenwich Village; a nice “home-like” atmosphere with tables outside to enjoy the morning light. After taking my laundry down the street, I decided to stop in and read. At 7:15am Joe’s quiet and inviting setting attracted me, and there was one particular table that I liked because I could see the street in either direction.
She sat at the table next to me, joking that I had taken her favorite spot. “Well, if it’s your favorite, why not join me?” I responded…and she did.
We talked about New York; where we were from; why we were here. She said I didn’t sound southern. I told her I try not to. After asking why, I responded, “Because most people think southerners are illiterate.”
“Well, you’re reading,” she replied, gesturing towards my book, “So I guess that speaks volumes for you.” We laughed.
We discussed whether Obama would have a second term and the economy in Greece. We laughed about pigeons and their thoughts of the city and reminisced about an old Disney Movie that had Doberman Pinschers in it who assisted a couple of bank robbers. “What happened to that movie?” we wondered.
I told her about hearing a gospel singers group in Time Square the day before, and how it rejuvenated my soul. I missed my church and the Praise and Worship music. She asked me about my faith; she shared hers. When she had finished her cup of coffee and some sort of Danish, she left a tip for the waiter, thanked me for our conversation, and left.
“How do you know her?” the waiter asked me as he cleared away her plate.
“Who?” I responded.
“Ellen. Ellen DeGeneres.”
The silence that followed answered his question. “You didn’t know you were having coffee with Ellen?”
“Maybe she was just a look-alike,” I murmured to his condescending eyes and shaking head as if he could not believe I could be so ignorant.
I’ve spent a great deal of time wondering if indeed she was Ellen and had I known, what I would have said differently. Probably that Finding Nemo is my all-time favorite movie and “Dory” the fish’s phrase, “Just keep swimming,” has inspired me on many occasions. I often use it as a mantra when I need encouragement. Autographs are just too intrusive, so I know I wouldn’t have requested hers.
She didn’t tell me her name was Ellen; but then again, neither did I say my name was Nora.
…we simply shared a cup of coffee and maybe that was what we both needed at the time.
