Archive for the ‘New York City’ category

A New Yorker’s Sense of Direction – 9/11–9/12 – What helped – Chocolate Chip Cookies

September 10, 2011

When I first moved to New York, I lived on Mott and Houston.  All my prior experience of New York had been situated on the Upper East Side, a perfect grid of numbered streets, famous avenues, Central Park.

Now I was just north of Chinatown and Little Italy, beyond the scope of integers. (For non-New Yorkers, Houston, if numbered, would be approximately zero street.  The island goes on about for hundred or so blocks south.)

But who knew from south?  Or north?  Uptown/downtown?

How, when I came out of the subway, and hardly knew right from left, could I find my way anyhere?  Even home?

A friend clued me in.  Look for the twin towers.  Way downtown.  Anywhere else was up.

And there they were.  Always to be found.  Gleaming silver through blue, haze, cloudscape, twilight.  Twinkling in the middle of the night.  Perhaps not the most distinguished buildings, but sentinels, and in their way, completely thrilling.   You are in New York City, they said, the BIG BIG apple.  A place where, when you look up, you need to crane your neck.

I don’t want to write here about the sight of the planes, the fireball, the anguished streets.

What I want to write of is September 12th.  A friend called us early in the a.m.  “We have to do something,” she said.

So, she and her kids came over, and, first things first, we baked.  Chocolate chip cookies for the rescue workers.  Then made sandwiches.  Then took everything to St. Vincent’s Hospital, a would-be triage center.  (There were, unfortunately, virtually no wounded; almost everyone at the towers died at once.)  As the day went on, we made the rounds of local restaurants, collecting buckets of ice (it was a hot day and we were told that ice was somehow needed), even later, sorted pairs of tube socks (it was supposed to turn cold that night. )

As the skies grew orange, then purple, then dim dark grey, with smoke, dust, lights, we took our baggies of chocolate chip cookies, bandanas wrapped over our mouths and noses, to the West Side Highway, handing them through the truck windows of workers going to and from the site.  They kindly took them, one guy even handing us back face masks to wear in place of our scarves.

I don’t know if anyone actually ate the cookies, wore the socks, but making them, collecting them, made our lives sweeter, stabilized our feet, gave us for those couple of days at least, some direction; a sense of which way was up.

I give thanks.

 

 

For a poem about 9/11 the day.

Evacuated. Tired. Waiting.

August 27, 2011

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Feeling a little guilty to have fled my apartment in downtown NYC in advance of Hurricane Irene. This guilt is somewhat assuaged by the fact that the “excitement” would have consisted mainly of sitting in the dark listening to the wind howl (If you live in Battery Park City, you will know that the wind howls there even in ordinary storms–the place is a wind tunnel.)

My guilt is also assuaged by the mandatory evacuation, which, despite the inconvenience,certainly eased the decision-making. When presented with the option not of sitting out the storm in your apartment, but HIDING out there, the dithering ceases abruptly.

The air felt hot, ominous, as we left the City late last night on a full commuter train, and even upstate (where we’ve sought refuge) has a brooding quality, clouds heavy, landscape lit from beneath. Everything at ground level seems to be waiting, a little petulantly, a little fearfully, overly hot; there is a slightly feverish quality even in the grass, and my personal energy has dropped lower than the barometer.

Maybe a good time for a lie-down, like the ground itself. Good luck all!

Hurricane/Evacuation

August 26, 2011


Not to seem trivial (hah!), but just as I get back to the City, just as I get theater tickets, just as I determine that I’ll stick out the hurricane and run and do a bunch of shopping, I find myself in a mandatory evacuation zone.

A time to feel lucky to have somewhere to go.

Have a safe weekend all.

Late night trains with iPad – no rest for the weary with weird priorities

June 15, 2011

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I’ve done everything wrong this evening and it’s all the fault of the iPad. I took it out at a friend’s apartment to show it off.

A wait for the subway and twenty blocks later, I realize I have left it at his apartment. I get out of the train, climb back to the street (a disorienting place since I’m not familiar with this stop), find true North, take a cab into a lot of traffic, retrieve the iPad, and go back to the subway.

This time (I had a long wait last ride), I walk several blocks to a busier and (I hope) faster station. Thirty minutes later (an hour or so after first leaving my friend’s apartment), I am still waiting for a train.

This is a very annoying station. It is at the intersection of a few different lines, but they are separated by different platforms and stairwells, meaning that you have to exclusively choose which one you will wait for.

I opt for the platform that has two related downtown trains, an express and local, figuring I am doubling my bets, but soon realize that the express train is simply parked about a third of the way down the platform, and the local never comes. Disembodied voices occasionally announce that the express is arriving, and people troop dutifully to that side of the platform, even though we all kind of know that no new train is going to hurtle past the one that blocks the track.

Finally, after much analysis of the light patterns on the stained subway walls on the local track, trying to divine impending traindom, I give up on this line, and follow the signs to another line, the Broadway line. The long stairs lead me to something silver–a train!==whose doors are closing.

This line has a little electrical sign to tell me the next train is 11 minutes away.

I rush back to the stairs to look down to the other platform (the one I’ve just left) where I can just make out a silver roof of a new train, a stopping train, a train whose doors will close before I can ever get there.

Now, finally (more than 11 minutes later) I am sitting on a moving train. It is not exactly my train, but it will take me to a stop in the general vicinity of my apartment.

Ah, and now, mid-trip, we are being held by the train dispatcher. There is another train across the platform, a train that may be better than this one. But I have my iPad on my lap, and I am too tired to re-arrange it, and–wait, that other train is actually a much better train for me (I suddenly remember all the walking and detours this one is going to require when I get off) but its doors have shut now.

Yes, my train, my right train, is moving on, and for some reason, we are still sitting here at a platform, doors open.

But, at least I have my iPad.

Hmmmmm……

Sounds of Stillness (Summer begins in downtown NYC)

June 2, 2011

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Full summer here now. I wake up to a kind of thick stillness in the air and somehow, clearly perceptible in that stillness and yet not really disturbing it, is the sound of a lawn mower.

It all seems absolutely, perfectly, summery.

And then, I think, lawn mower? You’re in New York City!

Okay, there are parks down here. There is even a little parkish-sort of area (with tress photographed above) just outside my window.

Still, probably not a lawn mower.

A weed whacker?

(I swear it’s not just a truck idling.)

And now (I’m listening harder), I suppose it could be some kind of construction somewhere. The WTC site a couple of blocks away is the obvious choice.

But I kind of hate to think that I am confusing the sounds of the upcoming Freedom Tower with a lawn mower.

So, let’s just say that full summer is here now; that I wake up to a warm, thick stillness in the air that somehow overbalances a bunch of city sounds in a way that seems completely unlike the see-saw of stillness/sound in Winter, Spring, Fall. (When, by the way, I usually have my bedroom window closed.)

Hmmm…….

Let’s just say that I wake up and it’s really warm out.

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(Above is same photo/drawing “posterized” with Photogene app.)

Amazing Sights In Downtown Manhattan (Sunday, March 19, 2011)

March 20, 2011

Hudson Lights

January 28, 2011

You Can Find Them Anywhere (If You Really Look) Part 2

January 25, 2011

Even At The Fulton Street Subway Stop

“Improvements” On the MTA (From Lonely Elephant’s View)

January 14, 2011

I happened to be on a nearly deserted subway car the other day.   This is an increasingly unusual circumstance on the New York City subway system; even on weekends, trains are jammed, and weekday evenings–forget about it.   (Yes, I did try to write that with slang spelling, but it looked weird coming from my computer.)

One problem with a deserted car is that the debris really shows up.

Without other passengers, however, there is plenty space to look at the signs.  A new series posted by the MTA itself gave me a clue as to why the system is so decrepit.

There is, for example, the sign detailing a seemingly new repair policy: “If it’s broke, fix it!”

The sign explains:  “instead of waiting to fix everything in a station at once, we’re fixing critical parts as soon as they need fixing.”

Wow!  What a great idea.   Fixing critical parts!  Instead of waiting for complete break-down!

“Can our buses go faster?  You bet!”

(Then, um, why don’t they?)

Another:  “Improvements don’t just happen.”

I’m concerned that they reversed some words on that one.  How about “just” and “don’t”?

PS – the above illustration is more iPhone art, which allows for endless iterations.  There, the elephant’s in a hoodie.  Here’s two earlier versions – it’s a bit like playing with paper dolls.

Draft Sonnet, Cold House – Choosing the Wrong Train

December 11, 2010

I’m typing up this post in a freezing (closed-for-winter) house which happens to have an Internet connection.

A sonnet!  A draft sonnet!   Because my teeth are chattering, fingers growing stiff, I am posting this before making final decisions about the poem, especially the last lines.  I’ve posted a few alternatives.  Any preferences let me know.  Any suggestions–absolutely let me know!

In a Hurry, Choosing the Wrong Train

I worry that, in my forgetting much,
the best route from here to there eludes
me.  I overthink, then blurrily rush
to a train I barely know that broods
upon the track while my regular line
goes whoosh (in my mind).  Beneath the slow chug
of this one’s start and stop, tremorous grind,
ears burn with trains not taken that speed snug
along their rails.  All for some two or three,
maybe four, saved blocks–my brain’s too tired
for the calculation.  The part of me
that invents tests it hopes to ace, that’s wired
for glee in a glide, tick-tocks by the door,
longs for time itself to open, offer more.

Some alternate last lines:

longing for time to open, offer more.

longing for time to spare her, feeling sore.

longing for time to spare it, feeling sore.

longing for time to open, time to spare.

Is “spare” close enough rhyme to door?