We’re walking downhill in the park, N in pink and green hijab and me sporting my red keffyiah keeping the wind off my neck.
They’re walking up. The kids are way out in front, bobbing yarmulkes, followed by mom in her wig and the reddish bearded, black hatted dad.
As we pass the kids with a “Happy Hanukkah” we get vaguely frightened looks in return. We try again with the parents but only stony stares come back at us.
“Maybe they thought we were going to attack them?” This is said with a laugh, of course.
“Nah. Probably just New Yorkers unable to respond to the shock of people smiling at them.”