My New Friend Sophie

What is the meaning of our unexpected encounter in New York City

Old friends. New friends. When last we met, I told you my “goal,” as it were, for last weekʻs trip to New York City, was to deepen connections with people and places I love. And that I did, allowing myself long relaxed meaningful conversations with old friends (and perhaps a bit of baseball banter, but we wonʻt speak of the Yankees today.)

There were new friends too. Of course I would love my goddaughterʻs husband and 9-month-old son. I think they kind of liked me, or at least they smiled a lot. I walked and sat on a bench in Central Park with a “Substack friend” - although she already felt like an old friend after all we know about each other from reading and commenting on our newsletters. There was a wonderful coffee date on a Chelsea rooftop, and unexpected conversations in bars and museums - if there had been more time, these also might have become new friends.

But everywhere I went, it seemed one new friend in particular popped up. Her name is Sophie.

The first time I met Sophie was in the bar of the St Regis hotel. Not quite belly up to the famous (or infamous) King Cole Bar. My friends and I had lingered over lunch at The Modern, wandered the Fourth Floor to reconnect with old friends¹ including the recently late Brice Marden who was my neighbor on St Lukes Place, and then phoned a fourth friend who agreed to jump on the next train into the City to join us for a drink. Or two. He suggested the St Regis.

Sophie was hiding under the table.

I was shocked to discover her real age when I searched today. I would never have expected that she was born in 1961, making her only five years younger than me. She has flawless white skin, large dark eyes needing no shadow or mascara to enhance them. But more than anything one is struck with the elegance of her long neck (her legs seem strangely shorter than one expects).

Sophie, as I first met her at the St Regis Hotel in New York City.

Two days later, as I was photographing the full-size versions that happen to live with my goddaughter (apparently this mother-daughter pair are fans of mid-century modern homes and so have taken up residence in one), somehow Sophie photobombed the scene.

At first I thought it was a miracle! An over the top coincidence! There she was again!

Am I the only one of my 600 or so readers who had never before encountered Sophie La Girafe? Apparently there are over 50 million of them all over the world, and yet to the best of my knowledge these are the only two I have ever met. Was there a reason Sophie hid from me all these years, only to insist on grabbing my attention the final week of October 2024?

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Giraffes. My dear friend Angelica, one of the leaders and heroes in my recollections of 9/11, had just been to her physical therapy appointment - and at lunch she shared a photo of the giraffes in the lobby of that building. Apparently I had missed The Great Elephant Migration², which left my beloved Meat Packing District days before my arrival, but the giraffes were everywhere.

So of course I had to fire up my trusted search engine in an attempt to discover the symbolic meaning of “giraffe.” Unfortunately, no two entries agree. Is it “communication, intuition and attaining the impossible?” Or is it “gentleness, grace, and femininity?”

As with memoir itself, as with our nighttime dreams, as with whatever omens or symbols present themselves to us, the correct meaning is personal to us. There is no point in searching elsewhere for the answer.

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My first thought was that this time, this coming week, is no time to be an ostrich, head in the sand. It is time to be a giraffe, head high to get the broad perspective, but feet firmly on the ground. To spot danger from far away. To be a calm presence - but ready to kick with those long, strong legs and defend her herd³ if necessary.

But then - it was not any old giraffe. It was sweet Sophie who showed up twice. Sophie is a teether. So maybe she was telling me I am meant to be chewing on things. Taking my time in making whatever decisions are ahead of me.

Both of those interpretations resonate for me.

What about you? Whatʻs showing up in your life?

What does Sophie mean to you?

1. By “friends” I mean familiar and sometimes cherished works of art, although we did discover a few new friends and favorites including the extraordinary Dial-A-Poem room. Try it. The telephone number is 917-994-8949. I just got an unforgettable rap by Bob Holman.

2. “A collaboration between indigenous artisans, contemporary artists and cultural institutions, it will raise millions of dollars to power human-wildlife coexistence projects and protect migratory animals making spectacular journeys across land, rivers, skies and oceans.” I plan to catch it somewhere in 2025 - will you join me?

3. A herd of giraffes is called a “tower” - how perfect is that?