This afternoon, on my way to catch the 1 train, I ducked into the Duane Reade drugstore at the corner of Broadway and 50th Street to buy a roll of tape.
As I stepped through the entrance, I nearly tripped over a man who was fiddling with wires leading to a large speaker on the floor. The man adjusted the connection, shifted the speaker and a clear, high voice surged through.
Going inside, I couldn’t fail to notice the vivacious woman in bright red who stood beside a folding table covered with stacks of CDs. As I moved closer, the woman smiled brightly and told me that she was there to promote her new Christmas recording; her name was Lyza Wilson and she was the singer whose voice I was hearing.
I left the store with two of her CDs. It wasn’t until I was on the subway heading downtown that I realized that I’d completely forgotten the task that led me to the drugstore: I still didn’t have any tape.
But I had something better; I’d received the gift of music — all the better because it came at such an unexpected time from such an unlikely place. And although she was singing in a drugstore instead of a theatre, this afternoon Lyza Wilson truly was a star on Broadway.