So Much Depends Upon a Red Monster

We don't watch real television in our house.  We don't have cable, so we don't get network, which is simply a continuation of how it was in our old lives in New York City.  But occasionally I do come across real television in my daily life.  Today, for instance, while my son was at his occupational therapy appointment, the television in the waiting room was tuned to Sesame Street and, though I was supposed to be proofreading a draft of my book proposal, Murray the red monster drew me in like a magnet, as he always does when I happen to see Sesame Street.

Why?  Because he's live from New York.  The segments with Murray are shot on the streets and in the parks and playgrounds of my beloved city, and the letters and numbers of the day are the subway lines!  When I see Murray, my heart pounds and my eyes cloud up.  In some ways I'm very glad to not live in New York now, but boy, do I miss it in other ways.  Murray the monster is like a red flag waving randomly through my quotidian life, the wistful banner of serendipitous nostalgia.