In the mid-90s, my father and I worked two blocks away from each other -- he was on 47th and Third, and I was on 45th and Third, toiling away at my first Big City job while simultaneously trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. We'd regularly meet for lunch -- at sushi bars, bagel shops or whichever cafe had a good Prix Fixe that day. But the most memorable lunches were three blocks south of us in Grand Central Terminal, which, to me is not only one of the most architecturally stunning buildings in New York, and not only synonymous with the warm, happy feeling of Going Home (I grew up taking Metro North in and out of the city), but the place where I learned my father's Randy Pausch-esque philosophy on Absolute Value.
Absolute Value (or…A Note About Splurging)
Absolute Value (or…A Note About Splurging)
Absolute Value (or…A Note About Splurging)
In the mid-90s, my father and I worked two blocks away from each other -- he was on 47th and Third, and I was on 45th and Third, toiling away at my first Big City job while simultaneously trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. We'd regularly meet for lunch -- at sushi bars, bagel shops or whichever cafe had a good Prix Fixe that day. But the most memorable lunches were three blocks south of us in Grand Central Terminal, which, to me is not only one of the most architecturally stunning buildings in New York, and not only synonymous with the warm, happy feeling of Going Home (I grew up taking Metro North in and out of the city), but the place where I learned my father's Randy Pausch-esque philosophy on Absolute Value.