Tim and I left the Empire State
Building and began to
walk around Mid-Town Manhattan. Near by
was a comic book store and we were attracted to the display of comic book hero
porcelain bisque busts, toys, t-shirts and stand-up cut out displays of
Spider-Man, Boba Fett, Han Solo and a few others. We went into browse, finding other treasures
I wish I had the money to purchase. It
broke my heart to deny Tim the items he was looking at and holding in his
hands. He understood, but it never
changed my disposition. I never denied
Tim any book – comic, illustrated, or printed word. He loved to read, and if he really got hooked
on a series of books he got each and every one in the collection as best as
possible. He held a copy of a graphic
novel for Evil Dead, based on the film that starred Bruce Campbell.
We left and continued to walk. Soon we were a few blocks from the Flat Iron
building that doubled as the Daily Bugle in the Spider-Man movies. On the street were metal cast statues of
people and we spotted one on the top of the triangular building. I took a couple of pictures of Tim standing
in front of the Flat Iron.
I stopped and pointed up and asked
“Do you think that’s him?”
Tim laughed and reminded me a new
Spider-Man movie was in production, but was disappointed that Tobey Maguire
would not be in it.
We were both getting a bit winded
and started to feel hungry. Tim said
that he would rather wait until we were on our way home to eat. He asked if we could get something to drink
and soon we stopped at a CVS on Broadway and then continued to the trek back to
the car.
When we got to Lexington Avenue, I asked Tim if he still
wanted to see Grand Central Station. He
looked up at the Met-Life building that loomed over the rail station.
“Hey Daddy, wasn’t that building
called something else before?”
“Yeah Monk; when I was little it
was the Pan-Am Building.”
Again we stopped for a few more
pictures and started towards Grand Central Station. Once inside Tim thought it was cool that
there is a shopping area, like a small inner-city mall, and then we went to the
grand hall. He observed that it was the
same as in Superman and in his Spider-Man games. He loved the feel of the building and the
commuters bustling to train platform as the arrival or scheduled departure time
was announced. As we walked around he
saw a large chalk board on a distant wall.
“When I was little my grandparents
would sometimes take me to see my Uncle Jackie or Aunt Rose. There used to be a guy that would still write
in chalk the times for trains on that board.”
We walked out of Grand Central
Station and began to walk. I thought we
were heading back in the direction to the parking garage, but Tim noticed we
weren’t and told me. After another block
or two of walking because I was unsure and wanted to find a familiar street
level landmark, we turned around.
“It’s all these Starbucks that are
confusing me.” I said to Tim.
He laughed, “Why the hell do they
do that?”
“Capitalism, Monk, capitalism.”
Finally we found our way back to
the garage, paid for the ticket, and headed back home. We drove uptown toward Central
Park. We drove past the
Dakota Apartments where John Lennon had lived.
I told Tim I would love to take him to Strawberry Fields. He knew it was a memorial to Lennon. He thought it would be a good idea to try next
summer.
It was a good day. It was one of our last true father-son
adventures. We would return to New York in mid-April
2011, which was our last adventure. We
never got the chance to go to Strawberry Fields.
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