Ford Street

The Lazy Bloggers' Post Generator

Holy Catfish! I just woke up to the fact I have not updated this since people stopped clapping and Tinkerbell died... You would not believe that my hands were chopped off and I was waiting for bionic ones. But I'm sorry you'll just have to take my word for it..

I am absolutely consumed with setting fire to people wearing Crocs, being distracted by the shiny, just generally being a nuisance to society in general.  My day seems to be a litany of stuff and giggles from the second I am woken by murderous Teletubbies until I run out of alcohol. I am not being a whinging Pom or anything. Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.

I swear on the bones of my ancestors that when the weather turns bad, I will blog more often. Well, I'll try. This is for my ever faithful, devoted public...

(If you'd like to try your own Lazy Bloggers Post, here's the link.)  Thanks to homegirl Erica for the find! 

The Tigger/Eeyore Debate

Randy Pausch died today. 

This guy died gracefully, and well.   

Watch this sometime.  Or read the book. 

I've always prided myself on being a Tigger; now I'm even prouder. 

I miss

I miss the smell of the ocean. 

I miss saying hello to people on the street. 

I miss my goddamn driveway.  A parking spot all of my own.  This is what I daydream about. 

I miss sitting on my front porch with a glass of wine.  Or a cup of coffee. 

I miss having a dog.

I miss my neighbors, even the old lady who sat on her porch and smoked pot all the time.

I miss the sound of birds. 

I miss sittin’ on the dock of the bay when I need to think. 

I miss my aunt and uncle.  And the loving cacophony of the Ferraras. 

I miss my home office. 

I’m going to Brooklyn this weekend.  Hooray! 

I miss the smell of the ocean. 

Life in the Big City

So I live in Manhattan now. 

It’s a very strange world.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a newcomer to “the city” – but there’s such a monstrous difference in spending a whole lot of time here and actually living here.  I left a press event two nights ago, at Webster Hall, all dejected and girding myself for the long drive home…and slowly realized, as I was walking the whopping five blocks to the apartment, that I could just walk the whopping five blocks to the apartment.  No driving home!  No tolls!  No Gowanus Expressway!  No fighting sleep!  I was home, stunned, in about ten minutes.  Did a couple of laps around the apartment because I couldn’t figure out what to do next. 

Things I enjoy:

Walking around with Rebecca. (but we could do that before.  Hmmm.)

Not worrying about having to get home to tend to the cat.

My new commute to work.  Actually, my new commute to everywhere I go. 

The sheer number of things to do. 

Things I don’t enjoy:

Alternate side parking.  ‘nuff said. 

Almost total lack of greenery. 

The f’ing never-ending noise.

The sheer number of faceless people wearing twee flip-flops and rumpled clothing, texting their friends as they walk.  The apocalypse could happen and three-quarters of the city would miss it because they never look up.

Life’s a bit of an adventure now.  And that’s fine.  I miss Brooklyn like the dickens, but I’ve always loved Manhattan.  I’ve added at least two and a half hours to every single day now, and that makes a huge difference in quality of life.  Though I haven’t gotten used to it, and am thus not spending it wisely, I am thoroughly enjoying the extra time.

Now if only I could get those texting twits on the street to look up. 

Memorial Day

Spring fever

First glorious day of the year here in NYC.  All of the office buildings in midtown, which stay stuffed to the gills in bad weather, empty out at midday.  People sitting wherever they can park themselves for ten minutes, half an hour, eating sandwiches, sucking on Starbucks, basking...for just a bit, till they have to go back inside.  And everyone going back inside with the same gloomy face.  It's so sad, really.  One of my colleagues suggested calling it a day at about 2:00.  Who could blame her? 

We celebrated with frozen yogurt.  I overheard someone say, "Oh, shit, the nice weather's here.  I have ten minutes to lose twenty pounds!" 

I don't care what you say

Finally, somebody gets it!  An article in today's New York Times about those of us who drive into Manhattan, in spite of available public transport.  We drive because IT'S QUIET!!!  and peaceful.  and dry.  and warm.  Phooey on the subway; it's about a mile from my house -- not a bad walk in nice weather but forget it in the winter or the rain -- then a 45-minute-long commute from there.  Phooey on the bus -- it stops up the street but takes two hours each way.  Two hours!  Just phooey.   

Veteran's Day

On the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, 1918, the guns fell silent in Europe.  With the cheers and hugs of men who moments before had faced each other across trenches, the "War to end all wars" was over.

Armistice Day was established to recognize the service of these soldiers and to remind people of the futility of war.  Over the years, the day has evolved into recognizing all veterans for their service.

We seem to have forgotten that.

Happy Veteran's Day.  Let peace be our profession.

Forever Free

I’ve been ignoring Ford Street quite a little bit lately, in more ways than one.  I’ve been struggling with something for a long time now.  I’m writing this because, at its heart, what’s been bothering me is not any decisions that I may make.  What bothers me is the way that we all make decisions based on what’s comfortable. 

I’m writing a paper for school on a book called Forever Free by Eric Foner.  Mr. Foner is a noted historian; I’ve read several of his books for school already and I’m sure that I’ll be reading more before I’m done.  This particular book is about the struggles that the United States went through during emancipation and reconstruction; how to make sure that men made free by the Constitution of the United States are indeed free men?  (That’s almost a direct quote, so I’ll advise you to read the prologue of Forever Free if you’d like more information about Mr. Foner’s thesis.)  Anyway, one line in particular struck me of late; “Versions of the past continue to shape how people think about the present.” (Prologue, xxix)

That is certainly true. 

How can we change versions of the past?  I think this is what the world has always struggled with.  If we could change versions of the past, or at least the way we think about versions of the past, so much of the world’s pain could be eased.  Would the Middle East be forever on the brink of war?  Would there still be racial inequality in the 21^st century?  Would there still exist basic inequalities; women are routinely stoned in parts of the world for being women, and falling in love with the wrong sort of man.  Or woman.  How can we change versions of the past?  How can we ensure that future generations retain basic human rights?  Someone that I hold very dear to my heart has recently discovered that she is pregnant.  What can I do – what can all of us do – to make the world that her child will grow up in a little more accepting?  A little more loving.  A little safer. 

How do we stop judging people by the color of their skin, or the God they choose to worship, or the people they choose to love?  I live in what I consider to be the greatest country in the world; here’s a fun little aside for history buffs.  The word “male” does not show up in the U.S. Constitution until the Fourteenth Amendment (1866) and it only showed up then so that states could be legally allowed to disenfranchise women.  How ‘bout them apples? 

How can we change versions of the past so that they don’t haunt us in the future?

Midtown, continued

I’m getting used to the midtown nonsense. I may be warming a little to the new ‘hood. I have even walked around some in the middle of the day, and gone shopping at Williams Sonoma and Crate and Barrel (what’s not to like?)

I’ve gotten used to having my car checked for bombs every morning. I’m even getting chummy with the guys who check my car for bombs. We’re developing relationships; it’s all part of life in midtown.  The traffic isn’t really that bad, once you get used to what streets to avoid and which ones don’t involve a 15-minute commitment to travel 4 blocks.

A lovely scenario, last week: a woman was approaching the corner of 57^th and Park, walking north on Park. She was walking a very large dog, really a small pony that seemed to be a cross between a Saint Bernard and a German Shepherd.  When she stopped to wait for the traffic light, the dog lay down on the sidewalk. When the light changed, though, the dog didn’t move.  Just stayed put. The woman gestured mildly; still the dog stayed put. This went on for several moments; people started to stop and gather around the very large dog on the ground. I don’t think that the woman was the dog’s owner, because she didn’t bend over or lean down to talk to the dog. She stood, helplessly, while the dog napped luxuriously.  More people are gathering now…but no one knows what to do. They all just stand around looking.  Finally, the dog moved his head, sat up, and stood up, and walked across the street.  The crowd dispersed, and everyone went on with their business.  But just for a couple of minutes there, on the corner of 57^th and Park, they all had something in common.