favorite things.

Like classic Babs, memories are hit-or-miss with me these days. Frankly, I'd rather keep them in the corners of my mind, so to speak. I've started and stopped so many blog posts, ramblings, and random writings the last 9 months, my Blogger account is looking a bit like a never-ending game of red light/green light.

But there have been moments like this evening, whereby utter chance, I happened to stumble upon a gem. I was downloading photos from the Canon when *BAM* iPhoto opened a chest of fabulousness. Photos of our trip to NYC.

Yes, we toted the 'nice camera' because there was no way I was photographing the ceiling of the Chrysler Building with my iPhone. I have standards.

And if there were one memory worth lugging the Canon around for, it was that brief moment in the subway. Rediscovering it this evening, I found myself unable to breathe. I closed my eyes and was transported to the station at 42nd Street, where we walked off the platform and found this man playing the cello. It was intoxicating. He wore a tux with tails, shined shoes, and had coiffed hair. He was so passionate about the music, he was living in another world. And he took the rest of us with him. He played the most passionate classical solo I've ever heard. Everyone noticed. Even those with little exposure to classical music noticed. No one took a video, no one took a photo. Everyone was drawn to the music and stopped to listen, intently. It wasn't until he was nearly finished I fumbled for my camera like a nervous fool, realizing I'd better take a picture or lose the moment.

His name is Eric Jacobsen.

Sing it, Babs.