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ta da
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“This place was a big part of their lives as a couple. When Dad came home from art school, his bus would drop him off in front of the diner. Most of the time Mom would meet him for a meal. And in the ten years since he’s passed away, she’s continued to make the four-block trip. Her mode of transport has shifted over the years: from her legs, to a cane, to a walker. But unless it’s snowing or storming, she’s coming to the diner. Occasionally she’ll ask me to come with her. I tried to fight her in the beginning. I told her: ‘Mom, there are so many choices in New York. Why does it always have to be the diner?’ But she always insisted. So eventually I stopped fighting, and started paying attention. Mom’s always greeted by name when she walks in the door. And she almost always orders the same thing: a special grilled cheese sandwich with half-avocado and half-tomato. The entire staff knows her order. They call it the ‘Sarita Sandwich.’ There’s no frills or pretension here. She can just order a decaf and sit for an hour. She can get a table at 11, or 3, or 5. Everyone says ‘hello’, other customers, the waiter, even the owner. It’s the center of her social life. Mom’s a stoic, so she’d never complain. But she’s 92 now. Most of her friends have passed away. And it could be so easy for life to get narrow: waiting for people to visit, watching TV, reading the paper. She’s always been such an independent woman. She came from the Belgian Congo when she was eighteen. She’s made bold decisions her entire life. But when you’re 92, and you have arthritic knees, there are fewer decisions you can make for yourself. But every day she makes the decision to come to Cafe Eighty Two. And when she walks through that door, she’s greeted by name. With a smile. She’s been battling a tremor recently. It’s become difficult to hold utensils. Not to mention a full cup of coffee. But they’ve made it easy for her; they now bring her coffee 3/4th full. With a side of ice on the side, so she can cool it down, and drink with a straw. She still always gets the same Sarita Sandwich. Only now when they bring it out, it’s already cut into tiny little pieces, so she can eat it with one hand.”
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You have been warned
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“Our community was hit first. Asian restaurants were empty long before other restaurants. Even on the subway I could sense that racism was on the rise. On television one night there was a story about an elderly man who was collecting aluminum cans, just to survive. He was robbed and taunted. His bags were broken. His cans were strewn all over the street. And he didn’t speak English, so he couldn’t even ask for help. It broke me. Because in his face I could see the faces of all our grandparents. In our culture there is a tradition of: ‘Never speak out. Never ask for help.’ If our elders were suffering, would they even let us know? I decided to call a service organization focusing on Asian elderly, and I asked: ‘How many meals do you need?’ They replied: ‘As many as you can cook.’ We started preparing 200 meals per week in our little 300 square foot apartment. Moonlynn cooks beautifully and efficiently, so she lovingly banned me from the kitchen. But I still wanted to help in some way. So I found a black sharpie, and began to write on the plastic containers. Traditionally our elders are very reserved with their affection. I can still make my father blush just by kissing him on the cheek. But since I grew up in America, I have the privilege of being more direct. I found the traditional Chinese characters for ‘We are thinking of you’ and ‘We love you,’ and I wrote them on every container. I thought it was important to use the word ‘we.’ I never signed our own names. Because I wanted it to feel like a whole bunch of people, an entire community who cared. And before long that’s exactly what it was. We found ten restaurant partners within a half mile who helped us prepare culturally relevant foods. And over the past eighteen months Heart of Dinner has delivered 80,000 meals to our Asian elders. We weren’t able to personally write notes on each one. So we put out a call on Instagram, and 100,000 hand-written notes poured in from all over the world. We told people to go wild. Add as much character as you’d like. There were so many styles, and so many colors. But every note had two things, written in big, bold letters: ‘We are thinking of you.’ And ‘We love you.’”
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I, Tonya (2017)
Little Women (2019)
The Queen’s Gambit (2020)
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