The Kindness of Strangers—in a New Castle Snowstorm

Tuesday, November 1, 2011
by Lawrence Otis Graham

Even though my wife and I were first attracted to northern Westchester 13 years ago because of its bucolic landscape and the slower pace that it offered in relation to communities just a few miles south of us, it was not until yesterday’s brutal snowstorm that I fully appreciated how much this environment also helps to foster a community and a people who trust and look out for each other.

Yesterday morning, I was attending the bat mitzvah of a Chappaqua neighbor. It was the daughter of my best friend from childhood, so there was no way I was going to miss this event. The ceremony commenced at Temple Beth El before the snow arrived, and then guests moved on to a reception in Tarrytown at the very hilly locale of Tappan Hill Restaurant. Despite news warnings of a heavy snowstorm, I foolishly and stubbornly drove a rear-wheel drive German sports car to the event.

Inside the historic building, the backdrop of gentle snow falling actually added to the enjoyable reception as the 300 or so well-wishers, friends and family members walked past the large picture windows. Drinks were passed, photos were taken, candles were lit, family stories were told. Inside, the surround of fashionably dressed guests in shoulderless gowns, brightly colored ties, lavender shaded hydrangeas and other spring floral arrangements belied what was happening on the icy roads outside. Just before sitting for the formal meal, I noticed that one of the guests was Paul Feiner, Greenburgh Town Supervisor, who had a serious look on his face. We chatted, and during the conversation, he told me that he was getting reports about the roads in his town, and how much damage the storm was doing outside. A few moments later, his wife happened to mention to me that her car got stuck an hour earlier just trying to climb the driveway to the reception. When she told me it was a front wheel drive car that normally handled well in bad weather, I started to worry. I pushed the worries aside, and cut into my filet mignon. Across the ballroom, I noticed a bunch of 13-year-olds from the Bell School open up their cell phones. I jumped up from the table and walked into the foyer and saw more teenage guests on their cell phones, saying things like, “Then how will you pick me up?” Presumably talking to their parents, they were learning that the storm had gotten so bad and knocked down so many trees that the Saw Mill River Parkway was closed. It was clear to me that my car was not going to be moving that afternoon or that night, and I was stuck.

I went back to my table and looked around anxiously at my dinner companions. I live near downtown Chappaqua, but as I quietly looked at my tablemates, smiling at them as they chatted with me, I heard none of their words. All I could think about silently to myself as I looked from face to face was, “Okay, Shari and Alan live in Montclair, New Jersey; Steve and Carrie live in Katonah; Amy lives in Armonk; that couple three table settings to the left, whose name I already forgot lives in Manhattan…How the heck am I going to get back to Chappaqua?” I looked over to the crowds of thirteen year olds, trying to gain a hint of recognition, wondering if I knew the parents of any of these kids who attended Bell School. Rather than intrude on the bat mitzvah girl’s parents or grandmother and their joyous occasion with my selfish worries about how to get home, I thought about Tennessee Williams’ famous quote about Blanche’s reliance on strangers,from his play, “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

As guests began to leave, I placed myself near the front door of the Tappan Hill foyer and walked up to a complete stranger who had a kindly face and a 13-year-old son in tow. He appeared to know all of these Bell School children, so I thought that he and his mother must live in Chappaqua. “Excuse me,” I began nervously, and continued in a fast, almost incoherent plea. “You don’t know me, and I know this is a strange request, but I live in Chappaqua, and my car doesn’t drive through snow, and I grew up with Stacey (the bat mitzvah girl’s mother) and I don’t care where you drop me off, and I wish my wife and three kids were here so you could see I’m not some crazy guest, I’m actually a real estate lawyer and maybe you’ve seen me on News12 and I hate to ask you this.…”

Before I could finish this anxiety-filled request, this lovely mother burst into a laugh and said, “Are you kidding? Of course I can drive you back to Chappaqua—and we live near Grafflin. I have a four-wheel drive. No problem!” As we drove back slowly through the heavy snow and slippery roads, dodging falling trees along a circuitous route across 287 and then up 684, through Armonk’s 120, we learned that we had mutual friends and that her next door neighbor was one of my closest college friends. At Grafflin, I got out, and the woman (who said her name was Ellen) and her son drove up to their home. I insisted that she not go down the hill and around the corner to downtown where I live because I knew she would never get back up those major hills on Greeley Avenue and King Street. As I descended the hill slipping in dress shoes and business suit, I passed New Castle neighbors helping each other push cars out of snowbanks and pull limbs from the road.

Suddenly, I saw a light blue minivan pull to the corner of Devoe and shout out to me, “Can I give you a ride somewhere? I’m going to the train station.” I’d never seen this man before. It was like a scene from the fictional worlds of Mayberry or Pine Valley. But it was New Castle. I accepted the ride—-something I had never done before in my life. As we spoke, we discovered that his own daughter was at the same bat mitzvah, but was still stuck over in Tarrytown. She had already found a driver who was going to bring her back home that evening. On the ride down a very slick King Street past Lange’s Deli and the old Crown House, I learned that this man’s nephew was a classmate and close friend of my son’s. He parked opposite the train tracks, and I promised to send his regards as I trudged off from the station toward my home on South Greeley.

And making this experience even more unbelievable, just before I reached the sidewalk along near Pizza Station, I heard a honking horn come from a red jeep. It was a father I had met several years ago when our sons had taken gymnastics lessons at World Cup. His son, whose name is Michael, was now a student at Seven Bridges. He drove me the rest of the way to my front door.

When you live in a community like New Castle, it is easy to understand Tennessee Williams’ character who uttered the phrase “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Because of what these three New Castle neighbors did for me on one snowy and treacherous afternoon, it is finally an idea that I can fully embrace. And I am grateful for that.

Lawrence Otis Graham lives in Chappaqua with his wife and 3 children. He is a New York Times bestselling author of 14 books and is an attorney at Cuddy & Feder in White Plains. A lifelong resident of Westchester, he is Chairman of the Westchester County Police Board and appears each week as a political commentator on News12. His articles have appeared in New York Magazine, Westchester Magazine, Reader’s Digest and The Best American Essays.

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