November 23, 2006
The Immigration Debate
Enjoyed this video on You Tube. thought it was fitting this year.
Enjoyed this video on You Tube. thought it was fitting this year.
Yes, I live at 6 West 77th Street officer...
I love the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Part of the reason is that it reminds me of being a kid and entering into that time that all children love, the weeks leading up to Christmas, and Honokaa for my Jewish friends. It’s a time when you burry your head in the toy section of the Sears catalog, circleing frantically everything you want before carefully copying down the item—page umber included—onto a piece of your finest school notebook paper, and then sealing it up in an envelope labeled “North Pole”.” Nothing else on the letter, just North Pole, which you cautiously give to your parents, in fear that they might lose it and then you won’t get what you asked for Christmas. But you give it anyways, knowing that they have to fill out the mandatory seven page questionnaire full of pen ended questions and fill-in-the-blanks on their child’s behavior performance rating for the previous year, which is also to be sealed, though this time signed in duplicate, and mailed to the Santa Inc. Headquarters, C/O Human Resources Associate, behavioral department. The Macy’s parade has always marked the beginning, for me at least, of the Christmas season. And last night, LK and I ventured to the Upper West side for what I hope to be a thanksgiving tradition. She had endured my tradition the night before, when I hosted a Thanksgiving party with a Chicago theme, where we ate deep dish pizza and watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Not an eye was dry during the closing scenes in the Chicago train station. The next day was LK’s day. And despite a really bad chest cold and the exhaustion of substituting for an th grade class of inner city catholic School kids that week, I rallied the strength and took the subway up to the museum of Natural History. That’s where the giant floats for the parade were being blown up for the next day. Their massive shells secured tightly by giant nets and dozens of sand bags while huge hoses fed helium into them from a cluster of funny looking trailers. The crowds showed that we weren’t the only people who thought this might be a cool thing to do on the eve of Thanksgiving. We also thought that we were probably the tallest people there that evening by a good two feet. Kids were everywhere, and just behind them were frazzled mom and dads with thick midwestern accents, their eyes showing that shell-shocked look of being overwhelmed during their first trip to New York with children. It’s not like when they were in college, single, and on the prowl for a late night out. Police wouldn’t let us head down Central Park west, so LK and I ventured through the park, finding a nice gas lit path that brought us out at 76th street into a cluster of fire trucks and busses that were made into ambulances. Before we knew it, we were in the middle of the street beneath a wash of white light. Quickly, we looked lost, LK flashing her pretty eyes at a NYPD sergeant, while I looked much more blind and confused than I normally do. The sergeant allowed us to enter onto the sidewalk opposite the five thousand wailing children on 77th Street. And we learned then that if you ever want to get anywhere in life, just act like you live at 6 West 77th Street. Our mistaken identity for someone who must be real rich and important put us face to face with the stars of the Macy’s parade. Right in front of me, with a nose the size of my whole body, was my best friend as a boy, Snoopy. We also saw Big Bird, Sponge Bob, the Energizer Bunny, Scooby-Doo, lots of giant’s stars, and a pumpkin that could feed the Bronx. Afterwards, we caught dinner on Broadway, just before the rush of families who had escaped the chaos of the other side of 77th Street, and then we headed down to town on the Broadway train, transferring at Penn Station to our Brooklyn bound F Train. The transfer was nice, because it let us walk down 34th street, checking out this year’s window at Macy’s. It was a miracle night indeed. When I think of where I was last Thanksgiving, still in Detroit completely uncertain of my future, I can’t help but think how much I have to give thanks to this holiday season. I’m particularly thankful for one person who held my hand while I looked into the windows along 34th street and Broadway. She caught a train this morning to D.C. for her family thanksgiving. But I know she’s probably watching the parade now, just as I am, and that makes us together today. Happy Thanksgiving, and send my best to the family today. To everyone, Happy Thanksgiving.
November 18, 2006
Headed South for the winter and beyond...
Few places seem bigger than the Big Apple. Maybe Big Rock City, but that's for another post. On a gray autumn day, when the mist settles into New York Harbor, the City looms over the crested waves. This photo was taken from Pier 4 in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. It's waere I'll be moving to in a little more than a week, the southern most neighborhood of Brooklyn along New York Harbor. Park Slope has been a wonderful neighborhood, one that I hope someday I might be able to afford to live in, already having my eye on several dream brownstones. But after venturing out onto Pier 4, which is only two blocks from where I'll be living, I have a feeling that bay Ridge is going to be quite a lovely place to live. More pics will be coming soon.
November 08, 2006
big rock city
big rock city!
LK and I had traveled down to D.C. the weekend before Halloween. We had traveled to see some friends of mine from the University of Georgia and their new infant son Charles. while we were down there, LK took me to a wooded hallow down from her elementary school, a short walk from their home in Maryland.
the hallow has a small stream that runs through it, the kind of brook that struggles during the dry and barron days of august. but this autumn afternoon it filled out the sound of the wind blowing through the amber leaves. The clearing was clearly for half pints, the worn bapth down from the school at an apt height for a forth grader. Ducking beneath the overhanging branches and spiny thickets, we came to the banks where the big rock sat.
when I was a boy, there was a stream behind our neighborhood in Marietta. On a rainy day, it was the kind of stream that bubbled up with God only knows what washed into it. But when you're a young id, the fear of water born diseases is of little concern. On a hot summer day, we would jump in with our clothes on and venture off into the fronteers of suburban life. It was the closest I ever had felt to Huck Finn and Tom sawyer.
There's a lot in common between Columbia and Marietta. I felt as though I were a kid again as LK and I stood on the banks of Big rock city. I was glad she had shown me such a great part of her childhood. Partly to feel a part of her own history, but I was more excited to see that you don't have to always completely grow up. I have a feeling there's a Big Rock City in every person who doesn't mind talking like Kermit the Frog when they see a green frog puppet, or using the word "smurf" as a verb and noun for at least two hours after they handed out candy to the two small children dressed in white pants and shoes with blue faces.
LK and I had traveled down to D.C. the weekend before Halloween. We had traveled to see some friends of mine from the University of Georgia and their new infant son Charles. while we were down there, LK took me to a wooded hallow down from her elementary school, a short walk from their home in Maryland.
the hallow has a small stream that runs through it, the kind of brook that struggles during the dry and barron days of august. but this autumn afternoon it filled out the sound of the wind blowing through the amber leaves. The clearing was clearly for half pints, the worn bapth down from the school at an apt height for a forth grader. Ducking beneath the overhanging branches and spiny thickets, we came to the banks where the big rock sat.
when I was a boy, there was a stream behind our neighborhood in Marietta. On a rainy day, it was the kind of stream that bubbled up with God only knows what washed into it. But when you're a young id, the fear of water born diseases is of little concern. On a hot summer day, we would jump in with our clothes on and venture off into the fronteers of suburban life. It was the closest I ever had felt to Huck Finn and Tom sawyer.
There's a lot in common between Columbia and Marietta. I felt as though I were a kid again as LK and I stood on the banks of Big rock city. I was glad she had shown me such a great part of her childhood. Partly to feel a part of her own history, but I was more excited to see that you don't have to always completely grow up. I have a feeling there's a Big Rock City in every person who doesn't mind talking like Kermit the Frog when they see a green frog puppet, or using the word "smurf" as a verb and noun for at least two hours after they handed out candy to the two small children dressed in white pants and shoes with blue faces.
November 02, 2006
All souls day
The other night, as LK and I were walking past St. Savior's on 8th avenue in brooklyn, she asked if Catholics endorse Halloween. The school was done up in a host of constuction paper cut-outs of witches and ghoasts.
"Endorse it? hell, the Catholic Church invented it," I said, this surprising her that the Church would support something that is an icon for ghoasts and demons and bad re-runs of CSI on the tele.
The catholic Church has always been good about going into new and unfamiliar places, the old addage for Jesuit missionaries was, "Have them invite you in through their window, and then have them walk out your front door." A sign of success for any religious group is its ability to adapt to the culture that surrounds it. In the days when the Roman monks moved into England, they saw the pagan rites and figured out a way to form them into Christian ideals. Halloween, which is probably the most thought of day when illustrating thispoint, falls on the eve of All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation for Catholics, where they go to church to celebrate all the saints that have come before them. The day is one of the big four, up there with christmas, Easter, and Ash wednesday, as far as church attendance goes.
The other night, LK and I ventured to the Halloween parade on 6th Avenue in the City to watch the parade, which had Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley of Kiss at the grand marshalls. The parade was full of lots of great creative costumes. In today's cecular world, there were no saints or religious symbols. There were, however, a great number of international tourists who were drawn in by this unique American custom, one which is more Anglo in origin.
Today is NO November 2nd, which is also another major Catholic feast day. well, at least a minor feast. It is All Souls Day, when the Catholic Church remembers all those other than saints who have gone on to the next world. In Latin America--especially in Mexico--this is a huge day, a sort of Halloween south of the border. La Dia de las Muertas is celebrated all month, when an altar is placed in the home with pictures and memories of loved ones. The altar, called an ofrenda, is an offering to the dead, to our loved ones.
It's a powerful experience full of symbolism and vivid colors during a time when the skies turn cloudy and the chill begins to set into the North. You an walk around the Mexican neighborhoods in New York or Chicago and see the brightly colored sugar skulls in the windows, the Mexican and Latin American equivilant to our pumpkins. Death is part of Latino culture. And once you've moved past the macobb (did I spell that right)?), you find how wonderful a holiday is today, Cathollic or not Catholic. It's not full of candy, of commercialism on display down the parade route, of chances to go out and party. Instead, it's time to remember your loved ones, to celebrate that they are now in the great kingdom (wherever that is depending on your faith), and to pay respects in hope that your prayers will be heard, and that maybe they'll put a good word in for you at the head office.
So, take a few moments to remember all the loved ones who have walked ahead, and maybe make a little ofrenda of your own for this month. I bet thanksgiving day will mean that much more when you move the Ofrenda out of the way to make room for the Turkey and sweet Potato pie.
"Endorse it? hell, the Catholic Church invented it," I said, this surprising her that the Church would support something that is an icon for ghoasts and demons and bad re-runs of CSI on the tele.
The catholic Church has always been good about going into new and unfamiliar places, the old addage for Jesuit missionaries was, "Have them invite you in through their window, and then have them walk out your front door." A sign of success for any religious group is its ability to adapt to the culture that surrounds it. In the days when the Roman monks moved into England, they saw the pagan rites and figured out a way to form them into Christian ideals. Halloween, which is probably the most thought of day when illustrating thispoint, falls on the eve of All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation for Catholics, where they go to church to celebrate all the saints that have come before them. The day is one of the big four, up there with christmas, Easter, and Ash wednesday, as far as church attendance goes.
The other night, LK and I ventured to the Halloween parade on 6th Avenue in the City to watch the parade, which had Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley of Kiss at the grand marshalls. The parade was full of lots of great creative costumes. In today's cecular world, there were no saints or religious symbols. There were, however, a great number of international tourists who were drawn in by this unique American custom, one which is more Anglo in origin.
Today is NO November 2nd, which is also another major Catholic feast day. well, at least a minor feast. It is All Souls Day, when the Catholic Church remembers all those other than saints who have gone on to the next world. In Latin America--especially in Mexico--this is a huge day, a sort of Halloween south of the border. La Dia de las Muertas is celebrated all month, when an altar is placed in the home with pictures and memories of loved ones. The altar, called an ofrenda, is an offering to the dead, to our loved ones.
It's a powerful experience full of symbolism and vivid colors during a time when the skies turn cloudy and the chill begins to set into the North. You an walk around the Mexican neighborhoods in New York or Chicago and see the brightly colored sugar skulls in the windows, the Mexican and Latin American equivilant to our pumpkins. Death is part of Latino culture. And once you've moved past the macobb (did I spell that right)?), you find how wonderful a holiday is today, Cathollic or not Catholic. It's not full of candy, of commercialism on display down the parade route, of chances to go out and party. Instead, it's time to remember your loved ones, to celebrate that they are now in the great kingdom (wherever that is depending on your faith), and to pay respects in hope that your prayers will be heard, and that maybe they'll put a good word in for you at the head office.
So, take a few moments to remember all the loved ones who have walked ahead, and maybe make a little ofrenda of your own for this month. I bet thanksgiving day will mean that much more when you move the Ofrenda out of the way to make room for the Turkey and sweet Potato pie.
