Tag: Harlem

  • Walking Around New York

    I don’t get to walk around New York City like I used to. The advantage of having a job in the City, at least for me, was that it would take me to a different neighborhood than where I lived. On lunch breaks, I would go for a walk.

    When I used to work off of 54th Street, near The Ed Sullivan Theatre, it was fun to walk among the Broadway houses and Times Square. There were a bunch of tourists, but it was fun to watch people from all around the world be amazed at the buildings and signs. I liked walking around on matinee days, and seeing chorus members out running errands. You knew they were in a chorus because they had normal clothes on, but their faces were made up in stage makeup. Another cool thing about being around the Ed Sullivan was that, depending on who was a guest on Letterman, you might see that celebrity walking around the area before the show.

    When I was down on 18th Street, that wasn’t too far from Union Square, and if I felt really adventurous, I could walk down to the north end of the Village and experience the tree lined streets filled with Federal styles row houses. Unions Square was great for people watching, as it wasn’t filled with tourists, and more just local people. Especially on Farmer’s Market days, when there was a great mix of local upstate farms selling all kids of produce. But walking on the Village streets was always a calming experience for me. I would look at the brick homes, and the converted brownstones and wonder what it would be like to be able to walk out your door, and have everything you need only being three blocks or less away.

    My other favorite memory of walking around the City was a long time ago in the Fall, when I was in a puppet show in the Lower East Side. It was a three-week run, and we did a double show on Sundays. The show wasn’t very long, about an hour, so we would have a long break on Sundays, and when we did get out at night, it wasn’t too late. I loved zigzagging through the named streets, and the converted tenement buildings. There was miles of sidewalk scaffolding for inaccessible condo towners that shot up like weeds. It was a cold Fall that season, and everyone was bundled up, and walking hunched over. Some nights, the cast would get a drink together, and then I would wander around, a little drunk, hearing the laughter and shouts falling and spreading out of the bars onto the narrow sidewalks. It was like hearing a million possibilities and adventures calling out.

    I tried this morning to walk a bit. I dropped the car off for an oil change, and I took the long way home. Hell’s Kitchen on a weekday morning isn’t exactly the hive of excitement it was ten hours earlier, but it was a nice change from West Harlem. The Supers were out spraying down the sidewalks, and piling up garbage bags. There was a buzz about the people moving along to where they were going, as there is always something to do, or needs to be done, around here.

    It’s not a perfect place, but I do love living around here. I have begun to think I might not live in this town much longer. So on days like today, I try to enjoy the simple act of walking the city.

    (SAY! If you enjoyed the blog, then please give it a like, or a share, or leave a comment. I can only take over the world, one “like” at a time, and I need yours!)

  • A Night of Theatre and Being Out

    Last night, I went to see my friends in a puppet show. It was titled SORRY ABOUT THE WEATHER and was performed at HERE, as part of their PUPPETOPIA puppet fest. I loved the show, but my view might be a little biased. Sure, it was a puppet show, I love puppet shows, and it was created and performed by my friends. The subject of the piece is about a woman with dementia, and is an “interpretation of what is in her weather mind.” It’s also about losing a loved one to a disease, which struck a deep chord with me. I found myself reliving the feelings I had during that week in hospice, slowly watching my mother slip away in a haze of painkillers, only to become a husk of a vital person that she was. It made me admit again that there are issues of her passing that I still need to uncover and unpack.

    After the show, I got to see my friends and talk to them briefly. The last time I saw them was back in September 2018 when we did a puppet show together, and I missed being in their presence. It was a nice chance to have a hug, and say it was nice to see you, and to have contact again with people. For such a bittersweet melancholy show, it was a nice that I got to visit with them, and have an honest fulfilling smile as I made my way out of the theatre.

    And this was an evening for me. The wife and the kid were having a mother/daughter night, so dad could go out, and have a break. So, I walked up Hudson Street with this crazy idea that I would go to The White Horse Tavern, as it was a writer’s hang out, and good ol’ Jack Kerouac got kicked out of the joint so often that it was a joke to tell him to go home. But what I thought would be a low-key Wednesday night turned out to be a very happening night in the West Village. All the restaurants were full, as were the bars, and there was no room at the tavern for me.

    But, it didn’t bother me, as I was happy to be out in the City again. Sure, I was in a rich, swanky part of the City, and not exactly my crowd, yet there were people out and walking and talking and it was good to see, or I guess, remind myself of what I liked about the City. It was a pleasant not too warm Spring evening, with conversations floating around and bumping into each other, not unlike the people standing and waiting to get a table or seat at the joint they were in front of.

    What I did was make my way back to the subway, and headed for Harlem. I knew that the chance of me getting seat at one of my local bars was better. And I was right. I was able to camp at a corner seat, so I could watch the Mav’s get crushed by Golden State, and I could also hear a guy complain about his job to the bartender. I had my beer and a bourbon neat, and the windows were open in the place, so the sounds of the City could come in. A nice reminder why I like living in this place.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Moving, Weather, Tottenham, and Crappy Time Lords

    (Half days are killers)

    Last night, we brought up the idea of moving apartments to the kid. She did not like the idea, and I understand why. Her objection was that she didn’t want to leave her friends, and I knew that was coming. Having gone through the pandemic and not being able to see anyone, she now is living a rather normal childhood; school, parks, friends. (She’s just missing playdates, but I know that is coming.) For a seven-year-old, she’s living the dream. We mentioned to her that moving to a different neighborhood in the City would mean that we would have a bigger apartment to live in, and though she would be in a different school, we were still in the City and can come back and visit her friends. That didn’t sell her. To her, our little corner of Harlem is the best place in the world.

    I don’t like getting older sometimes. Lately, I keep thinking and talking about the weather, which clearly is a sign that I am getting older. Such as, it was 40 degrees this morning, and it’s the end of April. As we are about to hit May, it should be warmer. I say this because the month of May is one of the reasons I still live in New York City. It’s supposed to be not too hot and not too cold. It’s a Baby Bear month! I want to put on a lite coat and sunglasses and take a walk. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living, and I need my little things, damn it!

    Tottenham better beat Leicester, and West Ham needs to beat Arsenal. That’s my weekend.

    What if we are living in the “fixed” timeline? What if things got so bad that people in the future went back in time and “fixed” whatever made things so bad, and this is the “better” version of things?

  • My Little Apartment

    I just might spend my whole life in this little Harlem apartment. As funny as that sounds, this is a new thought for me. I have lived in this apartment for fourteen years, and I have always thought that one day, we would leave this place for another apartment, or miracle of miracles, a house. This apartment was always seen as a stepping stone to something else.

    But you know what… after fourteen years, I think I am coming around to see that this apartment is my home, and I will always have this place as my home.

    Sure, it’s tiny. In fact, it is very tiny. Two little bedrooms, a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom. Two adults, a kid and a dog live in its confines, and if you add one more adult in the space, the apartment feels over-crowed, like it will explode, but what you are actually feeling is the anxiety of people being on top of each other.

    Yet, we are next to two subway lines. And a park. And a library. The kid’s school is walking distance and it’s a pretty good school. We like our neighbors in the building, and a police and fire station aren’t too far away either. We have made the apartment cozy, and each person has their own space to relax.

    Just wish we got more sunlight in the place.

    Maybe we might get a place upstate. Maybe a small farm house with a root cellar, and a place we can put all of our books. Maybe have enough land for the dog to run, and an old fieldstone wall cutting through the property. Maybe, one day.

    But in my little apartment, we have marked the kid’s height on the wall. The apartment is near a grocery store, and a place where me and the wife can get a dozen oysters on the half shell, and a pretty decent dirty martini.

    Maybe I will stay her forever after all.