Omne trium perfectum. A trio of Latin words to convey a simple overarching philosophy: “Everything that comes in threes is perfect”.
It was early in our camping-travel life that my husband and I heard of the camping “rule of threes”. Seasoned full-time RVers often tout the benefits of this rule: “Travel no more than 300 miles a day. Arrive at your campsite by 3 pm. Stay at least three nights.” It does a camper’s body good.
Similar “rules of three” can be seen all over life. If we learn a new word, we will notice that word three times in short order, thereby solidifying that word into our vocabulary. Even in death, much of humanity believes that the rule of three applies; when one person passes, two more are sure to follow shortly after that. Three is pervasive in fairytales (The Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks, and the Three Bears), and in figures of speech (“Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”, “Location, location, location”, ”Peace, love, and understanding”). The beliefs, superstitions, and use of the number three are pervasive.
Three is the smallest number required to establish a pattern, and there lies its power in many forms.
So it was when taking a mother-daughter trip to New York City the week after Thanksgiving, it was not surprising that we stumbled upon the phenomenon in our 28 ½ hours on the ground in Manhattan. It had been far too long since Adalie and I had visited the Big Apple, and about ten years since we had visited together, so we were anticipating a wonderful visit. Thanks in part, to the rule of threes, it was superb.
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We arrived at Penn Station mid-morning, mid-week, the impetus of our trip being a wish to see Josh Groban perform in Sweeney Todd. We found the most affordable hotel we could find in the Theatre District ($257!) with a desire to seek fun all within walking distance of the theatre. We also knew we wanted to enjoy a relaxing dinner at an as-yet-undetermined restaurant following the matinee show. That was it. Nothing else was planned except our 2:44 train ride back to Philadelphia and Harrisburg the following afternoon.
Once our feet hit the pavement, and our lungs took in the 30-degree air of Midtown, we smiled and remembered the exhilarating sights, sounds, and smells of the special city. We trekked the .9 miles to drop off our overnight bags at BeHome by LuxUrban (by Wyndham) and stepped right back outside to amble in the general direction of Rockefeller Center with the idea that we would visit some familiar and nostalgic places including graceful ice skaters, holiday-decorated storefronts, and a stop at St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light a candle.
ONE.
As we approached the area under the shadow of the Comcast Building at 30 Rockefeller Center (home of Top of the Rock), we noticed the stirring of activities. Some sort of special event was afoot. We saw portable crowd fencing being set up, the increased presence of police, enclosed tents, and equipment in various stages of setup. Adalie heard it first – singing that she thought might not just be a prerecorded soundtrack. It stood out subtly among the cacophony of sounds in the city, among them, the Salvation Army bell-ringers and the high-volume upbeat music of the jitney drivers. Curious, we followed the sound of the singing, and as we approached the ice rink, the singing ended and we heard a program announcer over the loudspeaker. The lilting, professional emcee voice rattled off names of the performers scheduled to appear in that evening’s televised “Christmas in Rockefeller Center”, including Barry Manilow, Cher, Katherine McPhee, and David Foster. WE had ambled upon the rehearsal of the annual tradition that culminates in the lighting of the beloved giant Christmas tree. Then, as we saddled up beside a black production tent, we heard a technician inside the tent giving instructions to the staff and performers preparing for the show. We then spotted Kelly Clarkson readying herself to sing another song! Over the next 20 minutes, we watched her sing, her band perform, and a flurry of production staff prepare for the show that night. We did not know the tree was scheduled to be lit that evening, and we had no idea that Kelly Clarkson was both a host and performer!
It felt like Kelly Clarkson rehearsed just for us!
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“Well, THAT certainly was an unexpected and unplanned thrill”, I said, as we wandered through the growing crowd, feeling like we had just won the lottery prize of a free concert. Adalie and I agreed that sometimes you get lucky if you just remain open to possibilities.
TWO.
We continued our visit to the places seared into our NYC memory banks from visits over a lifetime. We toured the venerable statues of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, listened to the massive organ play music, and lit candles with our quiet intentions. We found a few decorated storefronts and took in the holiday decor that was quickly popping up around the city. The Christmas season crowds seemed to be building as we walked each block.
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As we strolled down 5th Avenue, Adalie suddenly paused and turned as she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, down E 48th Street. Seeing the flags of both the United States and Sweden hanging outside a narrow building, she wondered out loud if it was the Swedish embassy (well, we quickly remembered that the Swedish embassy would be in Washington, D.C.). We decided to make a turn toward the building to investigate further, and we read the words “sveriges kyrka” on a sign. It was the Church of Sweden. Without hesitation, we excitedly entered the front door and saw that we were in the midst of a building under major renovation construction. But we also saw a sign that showed the way to the “Church of Sweden Cafe and Shop”. Down the stairs, over extension cords, and past sawdust-covered barricades we went. The signs led us to the church basement, and as we opened the final door, we were struck by the sounds of Christmas music, the smells of saffron and cinnamon, and the sights of Swedish goods stacked high on shelves that ran the full length of the little basement walls. In the center of the room were tables and chairs, decorated with porcelain dome-shaped votive candles, just like a special Swedish Nativity light I had at home among my cherished Christmas decorations.
It was our 2nd unexpected and special discovery in the city that never sleeps. Church volunteers were chattering in the open kitchen area, baking Swedish pastries like Swedish lussekatt, kanelbulle, and warming up Glogg, a mulled wine that we both remembered from our Swedish–heritage family Christmas gatherings. As first and second-generation daughters of a Swedish immigrant, this little church shop was a little Christmas miracle. We sipped our coffee and wine, shared a pastry, and were already speculating about what our THIRD unplanned adventure might be!
We bought some gifts and listened to the Christmas music, while the little hidden cafe bustled with about a dozen shoppers. Before we left, we waxed nostalgic about my late dad, who was Adalie’s morfar (Swedish for “mother’s father”), and took note of some of his favorite salted licorice, svenskjävlar (yes, you read that right) and Knäckebröd (a rye crispbread that we lovingly refer to as “Morfar’s cardboard”).
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Unplanned adventures one and two completed, we headed back to the brisk streets to allow fate to lead us to unexpected adventure THREE!
The afternoon performance of Sweeney Todd was sensational as expected. Beyond Josh Groban, the skill and artistry of the entire ensemble cast, orchestra, and crew met all our expectations. Dinner was a tasty Cuban food flavor bomb in a crowded and lively restaurant, Havana Central Times Square. With our simple planned itinerary complete (train, show, dinner), we walked the FIVE floors to our little cubicle-sized hotel room. We watched the pigeons perched outside our window and thought about how we would spend our final hours in NYC before it was time to walk to Penn Station.
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THREE.
In the morning, we pursued our shared love of books and bookstores, with a trip to the Drama Bookstore and Cafe for some morning browsing and caffeine. This store is accurately self-described as a quintessential New York Institution, founded in 1917. When the previous owner could not relocate the shop for the third time to dodge skyrocketing rent, it seemed that the shop was doomed to end its run like so many other small businesses, especially bookstores. In stepped long-time friends and patrons of the bookstore Thomas Kail and Lin-Manuel Miranda, along with Jeffrey Seller and James L. Nederlander. They purchased the store in 2020 to ensure the more than century-old tradition would continue.
The shop pays homage to twentieth-century European cafes and reading rooms, with its deep dark woods, dramatic artwork, and varied seating (designed by “Hamilton” scenic designer David Korins and his team). We chose the storefront window bar-styled seating to watch the morning garment district traffic pass us by while we chatted, drank some iced coffee, and intermittently browsed our way through the stacks. There was much to see in the little shop, including a display case with a special Tony Award to honor the shop, and what appeared to be a journal with carefully written notes and details for what may have been from the development of “Hamilton”, one of my absolute favorite shows.
As I perused the books and scripts all related to the theatre industry, I noticed a gentleman who was oddly familiar to me. He was dressed casually, had on a knit hat, was donning a mustache and goatee, and was looking at books on the shelf in front of him. I must have done a subtle double take and noticed another woman across the shop looking at him quizzically as well. I scanned the room for Adalie, in an attempt to share what felt like something that felt secretly special. He looked in my direction and then skirted off down some stairs that were roped off to customers. Huh…could that be? He seemed a little short. Wait, could that be Lin-Manuel Miranda?! Wanting to confirm, I Googled him and confirmed his height as 5’ 9” and finding Adalie, sputtered out the story of my brief encounter.
We were both cautiously excited, and I couldn’t stop looking toward the stairs. We decided that it was easiest to confirm with the friendly store clerk whom I had already chatted with earlier in our visit. I confirmed with him that the store was still privately owned by “those who had purchased it several years earlier”. “I promise that we are leaving shortly and won’t be crazy stalker ladies, but perhaps was that one of the owners that I saw here just a little while ago”? He responded quietly and affirmatively. “I KNEW IT!”, I exclaimed.
That was “three”! We didn’t plan to meet him, and it isn’t our style to accost celebrities, so it was an absolute thrill to simply know that I had seen him! He has such talent and has found great success in a competitive industry. The Rule of Threes had come through for us! Such a simple sighting of a talented creator and performer was the cherry on top of our 28 ½ hour mother-daughter train adventure to New York City!
We walked many miles in our remaining hours, taking a few wrong turns, taking in a few more sights, and finally sat in the Amtrak waiting area, exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. Happy to be headed home, we reflected upon our adventure and considered the “pattern” of great things that we had just experienced. They weren’t planned, and we did not seek them out, but we now know that the first, second, AND third times were the charm for this mother-daughter duo in New York City.
~ Safe travels and embrace the possibilities of the unexpected! ~
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