So much to do, so little time

I can't believe it's been a month since I wrote something here. Explains why I'm also not a good Tweeter.

It's been a busy month - trying to fit in some stuff before summer's gone, which is definitely is now. It seems to have happened so suddenly here. You don't get those midnight-sun kind of nights here that you get in the Northwest. Dusk descends with alarming speed.

Some catch-up stuff: I met up with Melissa and Sophie on Governor's Island the weekend before last, on a glorious summer evening. The 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson's landing in the vicinity came with all sorts of Dutch events, as well as these lovely reproduction ships that mimicked the ones on which Hudson and crew came here.

Hudson's exploration prompted the Dutch to come check it out, thus explaining all those "kills" upstate in lieu of rivers. And of course, Brooklyn is named after the Dutch town of Breukelen, where Melissa's Mom, Angela, was born. (She said to me once that she never imagined growing up in Breukelen that she'd have a daughter who would one day live in Brooklyn.)

Back to Governor's Island, where one of the booths for the Dutch festival offered the opportunity to make poffertjes, little Dutch pancakes that puff up like balls and are then sprinkled with powdered sugar and eaten. Yum!

This past weekend, I spent half of (a rainy) Sunday volunteering at the Showtime Showhouse, which is a designer showcase that benefits a charity here called Housing Works. HW runs a bunch of really fabulous thrift stores, which, as you all know, are my favorite sort of store. Various rooms in the house were based on Showtime shows like Dexter (about a forensic scientist/serial killer with a heart of gold - sort of), Californication (screenwriter/sex addict), Weeds (mom grows pot to support her family after her husband dies), and The Tudors (Henry VIII et al).

The rooms were all very different - you can get sort of an idea here, as were the people who strolled through. My job was to explain things (by consulting a brochure), answer questions, and keep people from pawing the merch. The highlight was when a skinny, scruffy guy of 70-plus whirled in, wearing a crumpled raincoat, reeking of smoke, and bursting with questions. He even had a messy shopping bag filled with papers to set off the eccentric look. His questions were interesting, though, and he was clearly a designer or architect (he had great horn rim glasses, always a sure sign of a design professional).

He said he wanted to create a cross-shaped light sculpture using LED lights but he didn't know anything about the technology. One of the art pieces in the showhouse (actually two penthouses in Tribeca - $14 million or so each) was a giant LED eye. My entreaties not to touch it didn't make any difference to him - he was lifting and shifting and trying to discern the secrets of its construction.

After about 20 minutes of cross-examining me (I felt like I was in grad school) about the lighted eye and other art pieces in the Dexter rooms, he said, "Have you ever heard of Knoll furniture?" I said sure. He said, "I'm Peter Knoll" and then swirled out just as quickly as he had come in.

I checked around the web and couldn't find anything specifically about Peter Knoll - a rarity these days - but I think he was who he said he was. Hope I get to see his LED cross one of these days.

Last Thursday night I went to see the new production of Othello with Philip Seymour Hoffman. It got a crappy review in the Times this week, and with some good cause. The acting was incredible - I don't think I've ever seen anything like it on the stage (not that I've seen that much theater, and never a production of Othello). But four hours is a bit long for most audiences, and the ultra-modern touches (some characters never appear - lines are spoken to them over cell phones) were a little too-too.

Still, a great cast, and it's fun to see something in previews, before the reviews come out.

One last thing: Did you know there was a term for people like Sophie and me who are here from the NW? We're ex-PACs, and last week the new Ace Hotel at 29th and B-way had a party for us. Lotsa flannel in the crowd but nothing really all that PAC about it, frankly. But Sophie and I had fun anyway. (The Ace is a spinoff of the ones in Seattle and Portland, BTW.)

More later from the ex-PACs. Hope you're all well and happy and enjoying fall.

Dual-purpose weekend

Last Saturday: I would never have expected to go to a national park and see laundry hanging from a line strung between trees. But there it was, on Governor's Island, where there were two events competing for visitors' attention: a camp of Civil War reenactors and an African-American culture festival. A perfect combo on one level, but an unusual one on another. Nonetheless, the feet-on-the-ground African dance lessons, with drum accompaniment, didn't seem in conflict with the occasional cannon blast from the (faux) Grand Army of the Republic. (The laundry belonged to the GAR folks.)

That's the kind of thing that happens on Governor's Island, a former military installation (for two centuries) that was nearly doubled in size ages ago when it was filled out with dirt from subway excavations. Now, you can bike or walk around it (about the same distance as walking around Green Lake) or rent a six-person pedal carriage sort of vehicle (it has pedals in the two front and middle seats, so four people can pedal at once). There are old officers quarters, a former military prison, lots of contemporary art work, and much open space on the old parade grounds and here and there around the island. They're still tearing down some of the more contemporary buildings on the island and that will add to the open space.

The only way to get to Governor's Island is by free ferry - it's only a 10-minute ride from Lower Manhattan, but, as this is New York, you have to wait in line for 45 minutes or longer on weekends to take this brief excursion. The ferry slip had a sign stenciled on it that said "At the Same Moment." Not sure what that means, but it was certainly a big topic of discussion among the passengers. Interestingly, the return ferry had signs indicating that one side was for Sheep and the other for Goats. (I was directed to the Sheep side, which is good because, as you know, Sheep go to Heaven and Goats go to Hell.)

Last Sunday, I landed in an entirely different New York landscape - the West Village - where I took a literary/dessert tour nominally in honor of the 81st birthday of Andy Warhol. Our guide was part of a great little company called NYC Discovery Tours, which does history and literary walks through various city nabes. I've done a few of these tour walks, and these folks are definitely the best.

Among the highlights: I learned that lovely Washington Square was a burial ground at one point, and the bodies are still there. Basically, the park was constructed over them. Many were paupers or, sadly, criminals who had been hanged from a large tree that still thrives in the park. Looking down on this cemetery at various points were Eleanor Roosevelt and Edith Wharton, among others.

Another highlight was the desserts - cannoli freshly made for us in a little bakery on Bleecker called Rocco's, and rugelach fresh from the oven at a place on Hudson (I forgot to write down the name).

The tour ended at one of the later locations of Andy Warhol's Factory and the place where he was shot. It's actually the Decker Building on Union Square, an area that now seems so upscale that it's hard to imagine it as a radical art enclave (the Williamsburg BK of its day). The Factory is now a hangout for fashion models, according to our guide.

This weekend's plans: a walk around BK, from Bay Ridge to Manhattan Beach, and maybe a look at a John Currin exhibit in Chelsea. What are you up to?

Bridge and tunnel geek

The description of the walk pretty much revealed the leader, Craig's, proclivities:

RETRACTILE BRIDGES OF NYC (DUTCH KILLS to GOWANUS CANAL). Around 12-14 flat miles mostly on city streets (residential and industrial). Two of four extant retractile bridges in the US are in NYC. Visit both, and stuff in between including the Newtown Creek Nature Walk and sites in Greenpoint, Willamsburg, etc.

Craig was full of lore and could whip up a sidebar of fascinating facts at the drop of a question. Really, all you had to say was "What's that?" and he would expound on its wonders - one of the few remaining bridges if its type, a rare example of a steel frame freeway superstructure, one of 500 churches built all along the eastern seaboard by an undistinquished but prolific Irish immigrant, and then those retractile bridges.

He was a geeky guy, with glasses, late fifties, kind of overweight and sloppily dressed - someone who looked totally unfit but could walk with incredible energy and bounce. He'd get so excited when he talked that he'd spit. He was a retired R&D guy for Unilever, so he's got all this pent-up energy to do the things he couldn't do when he was working. He was planning more walks as we went - apartment buildings in Greenpoint, churches by that Irish guy, etc.

On this walk, I learned that retractile bridges roll back on tracks, like railroad tracks, usually over a patch of land the same shape as the retracting section of bridge. The one we saw was the Borden Avenue Bridge in Long Island City. We didn't make it to the Carroll Street bridge because of rain, but we did walk about 8 miles through LIC, Greenpoint and Williamsburg, sticking to the industrial streets and sights most of the way. It's a view of New York that you don't get from tourist buses.

If you're a visitor to the city and you're headed for Long Island City, you're most likely going to PS 1, the old public school that's now a satellite of MOMA. You head to Willamsburg for the hipster/arty ambiance - or to Greenpoint for the old-school Polish restaurants and shops (as well as for the new-school hipsterism that has invaded from neighboring Billyburg).

So Craig's view of the world of old Queens and Brooklyn was a revelation, an exercise in delighting in the workaday, the spine and bones of the city, not the gloss and glam.

Which is not to say there wasn't glory to be seen on our walk. The views from of Manhattan from LIC encompassed the Chrysler Building, the UN and the Empire State Building -- all in one grand swatch. And the buildings and structures Craig pointed out with unmitigated enthusiasm for the industrial past and present were also glorious - that they actually got built was a marvel in some cases, but in many instances, they were spectacularly beautiful as well as practical: A majestic art deco monolith that served as an air exchange center for subways, a wastewater treatment plant that looked like a collection of massive onion domes, a block-sized brick apartment building called The Astral that was built by Charles Pratt for his workers at the Astral Oil Company, the last patch of sidewalk in New York made of wooden pavers, the original home of the Everhard Faber pencil company, complete with terra cotta pencils decorating the top.

Altogether a great way to spend a rainy Saturday - with a guy who loves New York and wants you to know all about it.

A moment of Zen

That's what Jon Stewart calls the little fillip at the end of The Daily Show. For me, in New York, there are a lot of moments of Zen, mostly having to do with suddenly seeing the city from an odd angle, or unexpectedly coming upon a place I've heard about but never seen. And a lot of these moments are about seeing the Empire State Building from every which way - sometimes it looks small and distant and it's hard to believe it's the tallest building in the city.

Other times, it's right there in front of you, looming in such a way that you can't really even see the top of it. If you're literally in front of it, you're aware of its presence as a monument (a weak word to describe it), an icon, a surreal thing that is in reality just another building. You notice it more at the level because of the crowds that are always swarming around it.

Sometimes, for me, it's like a lighthouse: I can tell that I'm heading in the right direction because I can see it - there it is, so I'm know I'm heading north or south or east or west. A quotidian thing, useful and amazing at the same time.

On occasion, I've been walking somewhere in Manhattan and I'll realize that a little clutch of people are looking up at something, transfixed, and when I follow their gaze they're almost invariably looking at it. It's a religious experience, like when the sun and clouds accumulate in a certain way and you can see the luminous rays falling to earth - I always call that phenomenon God light, a strange thing for a non-spiritual person like myself.

There are certain things that define a city, and it's almost silly to say it, but the Empire State Building IS New York in some fundamental way - like the subway and the Met and Battery Park, only so, so much more so.

Sometimes I look at the Empire State Building and I get a little shiver of fear that something terrible could happen to it like what happened to the Twin Towers. But then it just seems so singular and strong and tall that the fear goes away and the awe sets in again. It's just a building, but oh, what a building.

(A note about the picture: I took it one night while walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, so it encompasses three monumental structures: the Empire State, the Manhattan Bridge and the BB.)

East River interlude

This past week was a busy one at work, not least because I spent a day in Washington DC at the office there. It was a quick trip - down on the train on Wednesday morning and back that same night. One of those business trips that seems useful but in retrospect dealing with something that could have been hashed out in a good conference call. The good thing was that my coworker and I got a chance to walk down to the Tidal Basin and see the cherry blossoms - lovely, even in a misty rain.

Today, I took a walk with a group called the Outdoors Club along the path by the East River. We started at 34th St and walked to South Street Seaport, after which I caught the nearby Ikea ferry (free!) back to Brooklyn. It was a lovely day, clear and in the mid-60s. The walk was notable for the views of Brooklyn, but I don't think it would become one of my favorites because it skirts the East Side Highway and was really noisy.

It was an interesting group of mostly older people from the city and as far away as Poughkeepsie. Some of them have been walking with this group for 30 years or more. I loved hearing one woman's stories about growing up on the Lower East Side before it was chi-chi, and as a working single mom. Her name was Shirley and she lives in Chelsea. I would guess she's in her mid-70s. Shirley was very short, like many New Yorkers (I remember Mary B remarking once that there were a lot more short people in NYC than in Seattle - who knows why? Genetics?). She had a lot of opinions about recent immigrants to New York, some not so positive, and about working moms who leave their kids with these immigrants while they work. Interesting in that she herself was the child of immigrants from the Ukraine and Hungary. "In those days," she said, "Mothers didn't work and they made do."

Another woman, Eileen, came in from Long Island, where she lives with her third "husband" - they're not married but have been together 20 years. "You don't make that mistake three times," she said. But her two husbands before that both died of illness, and her current one is going blind, so she has to take care of him. Thus, she hikes to have a respite from being a caregiver. She was also a first generation child of immigrants, from Ireland. But she had a more tolerant attitude towards the newer immigrants, seeing them as being like her parents - hard working and looking for something better. She very sweetly took me in hand when she learned I was new to the city.

What's interesting in situations like this is that people often ask me where I'm from, a question that I could confidently answer in Seattle - Kentucky. But here it's a bit harder. I am from Kentucky, but I'm also from Seattle, having spent equal and more recent time there. The next question I'm asked is unanswerable for me at the moment: How long do you think you'll stay in New York? After all, I've been here only three months - barely the length of a season.

For this post, I'm including some pictures of what I think of as Dickensian New York. You see these strange things here that are so retrograde, like the guy heating up a bucket of patching tar with a blow torch right on the street, and those weird pipes that seem to be vents for some kind of underworld. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for them, but I just don't know what it is yet.

And finally, a picture of a message written in chalk at a house down the street a few days ago.

Rose

Nona and Bob and George and Martha and Abe and Barack

Hi everyone,

What a nice weekend I had in DC last week chez Nona and Bob. Their place is so sweet, and they're so hospitable that every time I've stayed there I've felt like इ was registered in a luxury hotel. Try it sometime - you'll like it.

And speaking of luxury, Mt. Vernon, where the three of us went on Sunday has to be one of the most architecturally sophisticated and beautiful historic homes I've ever seen. It was a lovely, sunny, cool day when we there, and the grounds of Mt. Vernon had a nice early spring glow. The house itself is amazing - all red-roofed, rusticated elegance, exactly the kind of home you would imagine a successful 18th century farmer would have. The location atop a hill overlooking the Potomac is breathtakingly perfect, especially the river view from the porch that runs the length of the house. George and Martha had style - most evident in their gorgeous bedroom, which is the most simple and elegant room in the house. Some of the others are painted in a rather garish green - but this bedroom is white and the most soothing palest blue-green.

Even the loud cell-phone talker we had to endure in the line couldn't spoil the experience. Check it out in the Flash presentation on this page.

On Saturday Nona and I spent several hours touring the National Portrait Gallery, another gorgeous building that has been painstakingly renovated in recent years.

There are so many stunning portraits in the gallery that I can only mention a couple. As I write this, I realize that it was sort of a presidential weekend, which I suppose is not that unusual an experience when you're visiting DC. Nonetheless, it was awesome to see photographs of Abe Lincoln just down the hall from the iconic photo collage of Barack Obama. These two presidents in particular belong together. (Abe was photographed many, many times - he was apparently fascinated with the form and invited photographers into his world.)

Another revelation in the gallery were the photographic jewelry pieces, mostly from the 19th century - exquisite little mementos of people who had died, or simply tokens of affections.

And yet another wonderful thing about this trip was the discovery of a cheap but nice bus service that goes to DC (and Boston) - I'll be using Vamoose and Bolt buses from now on. (Take note, Ann and Nona! )