“Everyone, please take some food home with you! We have too much!” The director announced after a luncheon and music rehearsal. I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out the door when she stopped me again, “Won’t you please take some of these sandwiches home with you? I hate for them to go to waste.” I wrinkled my nose, not wanting to bring anything back to New Jersey with me, but she seemed so desperate, I humored her. “I guess I can take something to my husband,” I offered, knowing full well that my picky eater would never touch anything with tomato or lettuce on it. Nevertheless, I grabbed a six-inch sub from the neatly laid out platter and wrapped it in tinfoil. I shoved the entire wad into my purse and started home. I traveled uptown through the subway and then switched to the bus terminal, where I would continue to New Jersey. It’s a very familiar route to me by now, long, frustrating, and tiring, but then I remember how lucky I am to be able to commute in and out of New Y