As we ate dinner after his arrival, my newfound uncle from California dabbed at his mustache and said, “Ruth, I’d like to take you to some Broadway shows, go to Radio City Music Hall, and see the sights of New York. It’s been so long since I was in New York.”
My mother demurred. “I’d love to go with you, but I don’t have that much freedom. Libby will be on vacation in a few days. Why don’t you take her to New York? I’ll join you on days that I can.”
My uncle nodded, and I realized I had been chosen. Instead of my older sister always being the one to go on special outings, I would be. “Oh, Mommy, I said,” I’ll be happy to show Uncle Richard around.”
I loved New York. It was only about twelve miles away, and I spent much of my childhood in the museums there with my mother and sister or on school field trips. We especially enjoyed going to the city to see our cousin Davida. Together we’d tour the Museum of Natural History, the Hayden Planetarium, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Chinatown, Times Square, Greenwich Village, the ballet, and Central Park. At Christmas and Easter holidays we’d go to Radio City Music Hall to see the latest holiday film and watch the Rockettes perform. Each visit we’d have to wait in a blocks-long line to buy tickets, often in freezing weather, but that was part of the experience.
The previous holiday season my mother, Davida, and I had gone to see the New York City Ballet perform “The Nutcracker.” The Sugar Plum Fairy was played by Maria Tallchief, a long, lean beauty who was Native American, a first in ballet. Her movements mesmerized me, and I dreamed of dancing, although I was a clumsy, awkward child. On my eleventh birthday, my mother bought me a recording of “The Nutcracker” that I played endlessly on the Victrola in our living room.
This holiday season with my newfound uncle would be magical. He had such plans, and they all included me.