hidden treasures

Broke in one ( of two) new pair of sneakers to kick start the new year today. Started out near Battery Park and walked all the way through Harlem Valley. On the way home, I actually had a destination this time.

I had come to a compromise with my bookcase. If I rearranged the books it already held, it would make room for the several rare and out of print books I had on my list of buy them for myself presents. Bookcase originally balked, but then obliged. So on my way home I stopped at the rare bookstore. An elongated, narrow space with books going to the ceiling, on the floor, and on the stairs leading to the second level. The two I had spotted a few weeks ago, I knew were mine. The other is being shipped from a used bookstore far, far away.

This one was hiding on the steps, left in the same spot I had found it, I told the shopkeeper that there were a few I was looking for. He looked down at the book a puzzled expression on his face.

" You weren't looking for this one were you?"

I nodded in the affirmative. He shrugged his shoulders and put it in a bag as I bounced out the door. This was the reason why I wanted it:

When I first saw it, all I noticed was the date inscribed on the front page. I'm a sucker for dates like this. When I got home I realized it was inscribed by the author himself the year it was published in 1918. The recipient left a 90 year old newspaper clipping neatly folded on page 25 including an article about the author. Sixty five years later someone inscribed it to the descendant of the subject of the book on the cover. And then almost 29 years later it came home with me.

tis the season..

It came as an unexpected surprise from the friend whose home I hope to have one day...books overflowing on shelves, the floor and the spiral staircase that leads to depths unknown near 9th avenue. I have books overflowing but only in strategically placed corners..

She knew that in a time of festivity and joy I would be seeking quiet and center balance in the midst of the chaos. So she sent me this. Inscribed on the card:

Happy Holidays and Everyday!

A destination
A refuge
A masterpiece
A joy
A tradition

Unwinding

The first thing my computer said after I hit the power button was "Where have you been?"

Well, not really but that is what it felt like as for the past six to eight weeks it had mostly been OFF as I didn't have the mental energy to sit down and do anything with craziness swirling from daily life..and I hated it.

When you can't stop at your usual port for repairs the gears start to wind up and get knotted.

Every time I tried to find a balance, the swing would go in the opposite direction.

Now the knots are unwinding. Screen goes on, research subject is happy, and oh boy so am I.

My sneakers were happy too ( and incidentally will need to be replaced soon). Walked over familiar haunts, seeing things as if for the first time, retracing steps over and over, not caring how long it would take, as long as it got me back to the clarity that I need in order to function.

Walked from Harlem to Chinatown and looped back around again. Faded ghost signs, architecture, sunlight that lasted longer than snippets gleaned in the morning, urban silence..

Welcome home..

..now back to the antics of that cranky ghost in the fedora...

1847 says hello to 2011

In the midst of sheer exhaustion, I managed after several phone calls, to find myself on a train bouncing to a great uncles house in the middle of dense trees, and lots of grass that wasn't apart of Central Park.

In the midst of catching up face to face with my other 90 year old great-uncle, a large cloth was pulled from behind the couch and unwrapped until I found myself staring into a painted picture of grandparents five generations back that I had only heard about in fragmented conversations.

Another welcomed reminder in the chaos that appears to be my life these days that the past is always near by.

puzzlement and amusement

"Excuse me miss, do you work here?"

"No."

A puzzled look...

"But, you've been coming here everyday for the past three weeks."

" Research"

Still puzzlement as if it couldn't be comprehended that someone could be that dedicated and engrossed in something.

Then out of the blue:

"You read alot of books don't you? You don't look like you own one of those electronic readers."

I smiled back..yes I own alot of books, my bookcase hates me for it.

Guess I'm that strange of a cookie. Could be worse...

sound of silence

I had just concluded the week from hell and decided that the only way I would unwind from being a mouse on steroids would be by my favorite past time of walking. So under the Brooklyn Bridge I go, cut across Mott Street, sidestepping the shopping carts, displays of fish, fruits and bags, then Hester, then Orchard..looking for the Orchard Corset Shop, mainly to make sure it was still there. Forgot where it was, backtracked to the Manhattan Bridge, said fuck it, went back UP Orchard Street and passed the Tenement museum and clearly not caring how long it would take me to get home.

They crossed my path somewhere between Delancey and Houston. Didn't pay them any mind until I heard one of the men whistling. Then the other began singing in Hebrew with a shopping bag thrown over his shoulder like a knapsack. The woman remained silent and smiling with a bounce in her step.

I followed behind them, wondering how far they were going, but mostly because I wanted to hear the whistling and the Hebrew. Up First Avenue, past Third Street, Fifth, Ninth..past DeRobertis cafe, glance in at the tiled ceiling and desserts. They weave their way along Stuyvesant Town, before turning to disappear in a courtyard of that city unto itself. On the corner they turn and smile absentmindedly in my direction and I smile back.

And continue on my home, finally unwound.

Repost from My Private Coney

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Welcome To His New York. Got Kidney?

This is Juan.

And he needs a kidney.

He's New York Mitchell Lama houses on 95th and Amsterdam. When he was growing up there, you still could see New Jersey from Amsterdam. Never lived anywhere else but New York (and you can't count those 8 months in Kansas City). His high school job was opening-the- doors-closing-the-doors at the Planetarium. TWA flight attendants, then glamorous heroes of the sky, in full length fur coats taught him the difference between a silly drink of vodka and orange juice and the sophistication of a kir royale. Christmas finery in those days was skinny jeans and a shirt unbuttoned down to there. Well, after all it was the 70's.

Then Tom met him.



Tom is not from New York. He's from Missouri. He moved to New York and went to a Buddhist gathering. Took one look at Juan and that was that. And that was 26 years ago. Tom is the only reason Juan lived in Kansas City for eight months.

I ask Juan, "What about you is New York?"

"I experienced everything. We didn't grow up with money, but I experienced everything."

This is my friend, Juan. And what I want him to experience is something he hasn't before - a new kidney.

So if you are B+ or maybe even O or O+ or 0- and you got a kidney, my friend needs your help.

And if you are not any of those things, would you help and pass this post forward? Post it to your blog, post it to your facebook, send it out with your pigeons, let your friends know.

Spread the word. And welcome to His New York.