Here’s another story from Changing Every Day. When you finish reading, take the quiz to test your understanding!:

Bye-Bye, Daffy’s!

Ally Li

I got an online advertisement from Daffy’s in late July this summer. Its red and yellow headline made an impression on me:

After more than 50 years

Going out of business

All prices slashed

Everything must go

All stores closing soon

I have been a frequent customer of Daffy’s since I came to the U.S. I have bought most of my clothing there. It wasn’t only cheap, it’s just because I always had a sense of joy when I found something there that truly was high quality, regardless of whether it was made in Italy, China, or wherever. If I got something that was made in Italy, it would fulfill my vanity, if it was made in China, so what? I was also happy, because I was made in China.

I ran into a senior woman with red hair at the 57th Street store, the tenth time I visited. She talked to herself as she chose some sweaters, overfilling an already full shopping bag that was dragging her down. She looked delighted.

“I’m very sad Daffy’s is going to close.”

“It’s true, I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know what’s been going on over the years, so many of my favorites just disappear from New York City.” She sighed, and shook her head.

“Bad economy,” I answered with courtesy.

“Do you want to try this? Its color is great, isn’t it?” After a while, she handed a skirt to me. I stole a peek at it quickly. It had yellow, red, and blue flowers on it; all the colors were bright and very dazzling. But it was too short and too showy for me. I’m not used to wearing colorful clothing like that. It was very hard to turn her down; she was so kind.

“Sure, you are so sweet and have such good taste,” I said to her insincerely, as I put it in my shopping bag. “I’ll try it after I get all my stuff together.” But I hung it back on the clothing rack at the section’s corner while she looked elsewhere. I looked around several long and narrow clothing aisles, back and forth, until my feet cramped up. I needed to find a bench to take a break. The redhaired lady was sitting there. She shifted a little bit and let me sit by her.

“Are you Korean?” she asked me.

“No, I’m Chinese.”

“Oh, I see. So, what do you think, there are some clothes made in China that are very high quality, but some are garbage. Do you agree?”

“You are right; I agree.”

She was eyeing me and started some small talk. “I’ve been living uptown for my whole life. I always shopped at Daffy’s, Filene’s Basement, you know that?”

“I heard that.”

“No more Filene’s Basement, no more Daffy’s! I’m supposed to buy enough stuff to wear until I die today, right?”

I couldn’t find any words to comfort her.

“Do you know that Primeburger? ”

I shook my head.

“What a great diner it was! My father used to take me there for breakfast or dinner when I was little. It was on 51st between Fifth and Madison. It’s gone! One after another, since last year. I’m very sad about that.”

I understood exactly what she was saying. It resonated with me; it really did. I uneasily snuck around the corner. Luckily, the skirt was still there! I put it back in my shopping bag and felt better.

In your neighborhood, the stores and restaurants become a pulse, endowing your area with life. When they suddenly vanish, it is painful, poking your nerves.

I felt the same as the senior red-haired woman even though I’ve only been a New Yorker for three years, and she has been living here all her life. I felt for her.

To read more stories from Changing Every Day, click here.

In honor of the first official day of winter on the 21st, here’s another story from Changing Every Day. When you finish reading, take the quiz to test your understanding!:

My First Winter in New York

Diem Duong

I’m from Vietnam. In my country, there are two seasons. One is the dry season, and it lasts from October to April. The other is the wet season, and it lasts from May to September. Throughout the year, the weather is warm.

I had seen snow on TV and in movies but I had never seen snow in person until I moved to New York in 2013. I still remember that I enjoyed the first time I saw it snowing. The snow was soft, wet, and cold.

One night, there was a snowstorm. As a souvenir of my first winter since moving to New York, my husband and I went to the park that’s next to my house to take photos with a snowman who was standing in the snow. When we went back to our house, my face was glowing and cold.

After the snowstorm finished, the streets were always dirty and difficult to walk or drive in. I walked slowly and carefully when it snowed because the streets were smooth and slippery.

Before I immigrated, my friends talked a lot about winter in the U.S. They told me that it was terrible, and that I would fly away because I am so skinny. I was afraid of winter.

Now, I’m not afraid of it because I experienced it in New York City. I now know how to walk in the snow.

To read more stories from Changing Every Day, click here.

Here’s another story from Changing Every Day about our beloved NYC subway system. When you’re finished reading, take the quiz to test your understanding!:

Life Underground

Ally Li

Do not just look at the dated and grimy side of the New York City subway system. It’s not comparable with a system built a hundred years later, like in Tokyo, Singapore, Hong Kong, Shanghai, or Guangzhou.

After over one hundred years of cultural precipitation, the NYC subway obviously has its own flavor, to show the world its unique charm. It has become a miniature of society and also a great stage: People perform their different stories over there. It’s definitely deserving of being called an “underground museum.” As long as you come into the subway, wherever you are, you will see many showstoppers and reality shows; then your wonderful trip is beginning.

There is a patch of ground in the 34th Street station; it seems reserved for some bands that play jazz, heavy metal, percussion, and fusion. Sometimes there is a saxophonist, who is my favorite. When the music sounds, I quietly listen to all the varieties, either velvety or blue, forceful or mild, joyous or sad. Your heart will follow the melody to go to a wild and distant space. You’ll get an illusion while the saxophonist plays; you’ll imagine that Kenny G stands by the side; you’ll see Boots Randolph pass by the crude stage with his saxophone, and you’ll feel he’s still alive because of his immortal music.

And you can stop and take a rest at the passage that goes through to the 7 train platform at the 42nd Street station, and appreciate an accomplished violinist there, as a string of fantastic notes fly upward from her fingertips, composing a melodious tune that floats in the hallway. Just silently lean against the wall, forget all vexation, and indulge in the fancy solo—“speak softly,” “meditate,” along with the pleasant music beyond the bustling subway; drifting away to a place of solitude, far from the maddening crowd, you are surrounded by tranquility.

Also, you can go around and take a look at some interesting artworks in many subway stations, created by some notable artists. Like the reliefs “The Revelers” in Times Square, the mosaic “Empress Voyage” in the Canal Street station, the “Missed Connections” poster inside certain subway cars, or the “Life Underground” in the 14th Street station—I love those bronzes, I just love them! They are so full of childlike bliss, and lingering among that imagery, you perhaps lose track of time. But even so, you don’t have to worry about this, because can always get the train to go home whether early or late. The subway in NYC is running for 24 hours. Besides, in the cold winter, the subway is a sanctuary for some homeless people. Don’t be fussy, be kind, no matter where he comes from and where he will go, just let him huddle in a corner to catch his breath and have sweet dreams!

Of course everything isn’t rosy in the world. The subway has its shortcomings. Some people complain the subway is a maze that drives them crazy, most areas have no cell phone signal, passengers eat and drink in the train, and rats play on the tracks. And some subway stations are very stuffy because of lack of ventilation.

Uh huh, we know that, but we’ll overlook it, because there can be no sunshine without shadows. Just turn your face to the sunlight—the underground sunlight—and enjoy it.

 To read more stories from Changing Ever Day, click here. 

Ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present to you  Changing Every Day, the brand-new writing collection from the University Settlement Adult Literacy Program and the NYU Gallatin Writing Program. The following story, along with the other stories in the collection, comes from the Advanced Writing Class taught by Prof. June Foley of NYU Gallatin with the help of undergraduate student-teachers. Enjoy!

Click here or on the cover above to read more.