Until not too long ago, my Great Grandma was alive and kicking. And she was kicking it in a hotel in NYC. She lived there alone but girrrrllll was not lonely. She would wake up each day, put on her sneakers and walk the city streets. Often times she would ride the circle line or the ferry because she loved the water. The city was her playground. On her many jaunts was her companion of many years....King his name was. He was an interesting character with a rich history steep in Harlem and Jazz. The two of them would sometimes just sit and listen to music. I must admit, I often fill in the blanks of the story where she refused to elaborate when asked.."Grandma, what are you doing in Harlem late at night, the two of you?" Living the dream I would say.