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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Family
- Published: 07/14/2023
Relative Strangers
Born 1975, M, from Manchester, United KingdomRELATIVE STRANGERS.
BY CHRIS PLATT.
Author's note: This is a true story. It happened to someone in my circle of friends. Some names and details changed but the story is the same.
Dave Hyde looked down the row of seats on the plane next to him. His wife, son and daughter dozed in their seats. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Here he was taking is family to meet his long-lost relatives in New York. He had first heard from his distant relative, Tim, over social media. Dave’s grandfather had had a cousin who had moved to America years ago and had settled down over there. Tim over in America was the descendant of that cousin. He lived on the outskirts of New York with his wife Betty. After two months of messaging and chatting online, they had agreed that Dave and his family would spend their summer holidays with Tim and Betty in New York.
And in just a few hours they would be touching down at JFK airport. Dave smiled to himself. This was the trip of a life-time. How many people could say that they had been to New York to meet family? This was just mind blowing, like something from a television documentary. As the plane dropped down, coming in to land, Dave, his wife, Cath and the children peered out of the window. The New York skyline looked like film set, or movie as they said in America.
In the Arrivals lounge, they found a man wearing a New York Jets t-shirt, holding a cardboard sign with their surname written in black marker pen. Dave recognised his distant relative, even though he looked slightly different in real-life than he did on screen and in photographs.
‘Tim? Is that you?’
‘Dave, great to meet you at last.’ He turned to his wife Betty. ‘Here’s my relatives all the way from Manchester, England.’
‘Welcome to the Big Apple.’ Betty smiled.
Tim showed them to the parking lot where he was parked. As they bundled their luggage in the back of the car, Dave exclaimed that the car was twice the size of vehicles back home.
‘The Tucson is quite the automobile.’ Tim said, proudly.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the hotel. Standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, Cath pointed to the street sign.
‘West 35th Street, even the street names sound so American.’ She said.
Her son agreed that it was very cool, staring around him in wonder, as though he had just walked through the gates of a theme-park.
‘We’ll let you guys get settled in. Shall we meet for dinner later?’ Tim said.
Over the next few days, Dave, Cath and the kids, were shown all that New York City had to offer. Tim and Betty showed them all the sights. They were good hosts, and amidst all the tourist spots, Tim and Dave spoke of their connected family history. There were certain traits and expressions they used that could only have come from their shared ancestry. They were so very different, and yet rather similar at the same time.
Tim even managed to wangle tickets for a New York Yankees home game. As they sat in the stands watching the first inning get under way, Tim and Betty explained the rules of the game.
‘Three strikes and you’re out? I thought that was just an expression.’ Cath said.
‘There are lots of expressions that come from the ball game.’ Tim said. ‘Step up to the plate, for example.’
‘Baseball is similar to the British game of rounders.’ Cath said.
‘Is that a popular game over there?’
‘Only with children. It’s a game kids play, really.’ She said.
The conversation was disrupted by a Yankee home-run. The crowd went crazy, hollering and cheering as the hitter ran around all four bases, punching the air as he crossed the home plate.
When they stopped off at the Tick Tock Diner after the game, Dave’s son Charlie perused the menu with interest for a long moment, before declaring, he was having the hamburger.
‘Charlie, you’ve been eating nothing but burgers since we got here.’ Cath said.
‘Mum, we’re in New York.’ Charlie said. ‘It’s what they eat in New York.’
Tim said he’d treat Charlie to a slice of pizza or a hot-dog from a street-cart. Those little carts, their food, he said, now that, is the taste of New York.
When they had eaten, Dave raised his bottle of American beer.
‘To family.’ He said.
The others joined in the toast, clinking their glasses together.
Outside on the sidewalk, as Tim and Betty tried to flag down a yellow cab, Betty spoke.
‘How about we go to Bloomingdales tomorrow?’ She suggested.
‘Yeah, that would be amazing.’
They met just after ten-thirty the following morning. As they were walking the couple of blocks to the famous department store, Betty paused by a mail-box to post a letter.
‘Look at the post-boxes. They look so different than our red post boxes back home.’ Charlie said.
‘It’s the little things that make all the difference, isn’t it?’ Betty said. ‘Come on, let’s show you around Bloomingdales.’
Finally, the morning came for Dave, Cath and the children to leave for the airport. Tim and Betty hugged them on the sidewalk, as the taxi driver loaded their suitcases in the trunk.
‘We’ll have to keep in touch.’ Cath said. ‘You must come to us next time. We’ll show you what Manchester has to offer. We can take you to a football game, I mean soccer. I really can’t wait to return the favour. You guys have been so kind.’
‘Yeah,’ Dave agreed. ‘Thanks for spending the time with us. It’s been so nice getting to know you.’
‘We’re glad you had a great time.’ Tim said.
Back home, Dave unlocked his front door and dragged his suitcase across the threshold. The others followed in behind him, with their luggage. They filed through to the kitchen. Cath flicked through the mail they’d received while they’d been away. She waved one envelope in the air.
‘We’ve got a letter, New York Air Mail. It must be from Tim and Betty.’ She said.
‘How exciting. I’ll put the kettle on and we can all read it together.’
Once the kettle had boiled and the tea was made, they huddled round and read the letter from America. As one, the family read the letter. They stared at the paper in confusion. They studied the handwritten words on the lined page again, as though re-reading would help them understand the letter more.
‘They’re saying they want nothing more to do with us and that we’re to never to contact them ever again.’ Cath said.
Dave reached for his mobile phone and checked his social media accounts. Tim had blocked him on everything.
They never did find out what they did or said to offend their relatives.
Relative Strangers(CPlatt)
RELATIVE STRANGERS.
BY CHRIS PLATT.
Author's note: This is a true story. It happened to someone in my circle of friends. Some names and details changed but the story is the same.
Dave Hyde looked down the row of seats on the plane next to him. His wife, son and daughter dozed in their seats. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Here he was taking is family to meet his long-lost relatives in New York. He had first heard from his distant relative, Tim, over social media. Dave’s grandfather had had a cousin who had moved to America years ago and had settled down over there. Tim over in America was the descendant of that cousin. He lived on the outskirts of New York with his wife Betty. After two months of messaging and chatting online, they had agreed that Dave and his family would spend their summer holidays with Tim and Betty in New York.
And in just a few hours they would be touching down at JFK airport. Dave smiled to himself. This was the trip of a life-time. How many people could say that they had been to New York to meet family? This was just mind blowing, like something from a television documentary. As the plane dropped down, coming in to land, Dave, his wife, Cath and the children peered out of the window. The New York skyline looked like film set, or movie as they said in America.
In the Arrivals lounge, they found a man wearing a New York Jets t-shirt, holding a cardboard sign with their surname written in black marker pen. Dave recognised his distant relative, even though he looked slightly different in real-life than he did on screen and in photographs.
‘Tim? Is that you?’
‘Dave, great to meet you at last.’ He turned to his wife Betty. ‘Here’s my relatives all the way from Manchester, England.’
‘Welcome to the Big Apple.’ Betty smiled.
Tim showed them to the parking lot where he was parked. As they bundled their luggage in the back of the car, Dave exclaimed that the car was twice the size of vehicles back home.
‘The Tucson is quite the automobile.’ Tim said, proudly.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the hotel. Standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, Cath pointed to the street sign.
‘West 35th Street, even the street names sound so American.’ She said.
Her son agreed that it was very cool, staring around him in wonder, as though he had just walked through the gates of a theme-park.
‘We’ll let you guys get settled in. Shall we meet for dinner later?’ Tim said.
Over the next few days, Dave, Cath and the kids, were shown all that New York City had to offer. Tim and Betty showed them all the sights. They were good hosts, and amidst all the tourist spots, Tim and Dave spoke of their connected family history. There were certain traits and expressions they used that could only have come from their shared ancestry. They were so very different, and yet rather similar at the same time.
Tim even managed to wangle tickets for a New York Yankees home game. As they sat in the stands watching the first inning get under way, Tim and Betty explained the rules of the game.
‘Three strikes and you’re out? I thought that was just an expression.’ Cath said.
‘There are lots of expressions that come from the ball game.’ Tim said. ‘Step up to the plate, for example.’
‘Baseball is similar to the British game of rounders.’ Cath said.
‘Is that a popular game over there?’
‘Only with children. It’s a game kids play, really.’ She said.
The conversation was disrupted by a Yankee home-run. The crowd went crazy, hollering and cheering as the hitter ran around all four bases, punching the air as he crossed the home plate.
When they stopped off at the Tick Tock Diner after the game, Dave’s son Charlie perused the menu with interest for a long moment, before declaring, he was having the hamburger.
‘Charlie, you’ve been eating nothing but burgers since we got here.’ Cath said.
‘Mum, we’re in New York.’ Charlie said. ‘It’s what they eat in New York.’
Tim said he’d treat Charlie to a slice of pizza or a hot-dog from a street-cart. Those little carts, their food, he said, now that, is the taste of New York.
When they had eaten, Dave raised his bottle of American beer.
‘To family.’ He said.
The others joined in the toast, clinking their glasses together.
Outside on the sidewalk, as Tim and Betty tried to flag down a yellow cab, Betty spoke.
‘How about we go to Bloomingdales tomorrow?’ She suggested.
‘Yeah, that would be amazing.’
They met just after ten-thirty the following morning. As they were walking the couple of blocks to the famous department store, Betty paused by a mail-box to post a letter.
‘Look at the post-boxes. They look so different than our red post boxes back home.’ Charlie said.
‘It’s the little things that make all the difference, isn’t it?’ Betty said. ‘Come on, let’s show you around Bloomingdales.’
Finally, the morning came for Dave, Cath and the children to leave for the airport. Tim and Betty hugged them on the sidewalk, as the taxi driver loaded their suitcases in the trunk.
‘We’ll have to keep in touch.’ Cath said. ‘You must come to us next time. We’ll show you what Manchester has to offer. We can take you to a football game, I mean soccer. I really can’t wait to return the favour. You guys have been so kind.’
‘Yeah,’ Dave agreed. ‘Thanks for spending the time with us. It’s been so nice getting to know you.’
‘We’re glad you had a great time.’ Tim said.
Back home, Dave unlocked his front door and dragged his suitcase across the threshold. The others followed in behind him, with their luggage. They filed through to the kitchen. Cath flicked through the mail they’d received while they’d been away. She waved one envelope in the air.
‘We’ve got a letter, New York Air Mail. It must be from Tim and Betty.’ She said.
‘How exciting. I’ll put the kettle on and we can all read it together.’
Once the kettle had boiled and the tea was made, they huddled round and read the letter from America. As one, the family read the letter. They stared at the paper in confusion. They studied the handwritten words on the lined page again, as though re-reading would help them understand the letter more.
‘They’re saying they want nothing more to do with us and that we’re to never to contact them ever again.’ Cath said.
Dave reached for his mobile phone and checked his social media accounts. Tim had blocked him on everything.
They never did find out what they did or said to offend their relatives.
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