Dear Reader,
The alternate title for this post was "Mommy, Can We Keep Him, Pleeeaaase??!!!," but was met with disapproval by the subjects in question. In any case, this is a story about my sister, two horses, and where the inclination comes from to rescue animals in need.
Whenever I visit West Virginia, there is always some kind of adventure. Sometimes it's mine, sometimes it's my family members'. This time, it was my sister's.
When I arrived, I got the regular update: current events in and around Adrian and Buckhannon, WV. One of the latest this time was that there were a pair of horses seen wandering loose on one of the main roadways down there, Route 20. This is akin to the occasions when livestock get loose on the Belt Parkway, or some other major thoroughfare in the City. Confusion and sometimes, hilarity ensue.
At some point my sister and her friend went up the road, which is very near to our place up there, to check on these horses to see if they were still wandering loose or had happened to find their way home. They had found a great place, not their home, but someone else's backyard complete with hay and some shelter. My sister happened to run into the animal control officer down there, who determined that the horses needed to be corralled, because they were not in their own yard. However, he didn't have the necessary facilities to either lasso the horses, or board them until their rightful owners were located. Fortunately, my sister had access to both.
As it happened, one of her neighbors from up the road happened by as the conversation was taking place. He agreed to bring his horse trailer over after he'd finished his other errands, to load the horses up and take them over to our farm (my family's, where my sister lives) to stay with her other horses. Then word would be put out that the horses had been "rescued" and were being held until proper proof of ownership was demonstrated, and a valid excuse for why the horses were wandering free was given.
So, my sister brought the necessary tack, her neighbor brought the trailer, and she got the horses into their coach with a minimum of trouble; got them over to the farm, and they seemed happy as clams in their new digs. Later on, the owners did come by, and the legal issues (restitution for property damage, animal boarding and care, etc,) were handled.
This is just a demonstration on a larger scale of something my family has always done: taken in the lost, damaged, ill animals (and sometimes people as well), given them a place to stay, and tried to help them if possible. Our first pet, in my recollection, was a stray cat that got caught in some outdoor furniture. We kept him ("Mommy, can we keep him, Pleeeeaaaasseee!!!???"), and even took him with us when we moved from New Mexico to Rhode Island! I don't know where this tendency comes from. For me, it comes from the feeling that I can't watch an animal suffer, since almost always they are suffering at the hands of some idiotic human. In the case of wild animals, helping them may be some effort to try to make up for generalized guilt at what we humans have done to their environment. I'm not sure if this is why my Dad feeds the birds (and deer, cats, and any others comers), but that's why I put the occasional seed bell out in the Park for the birds.
Both of my sisters have this same penchant, although with the farm, my youngest sister is in a position to do a lot more than most. She has taken in stray cats; dogs have been dropped off; there have been ducks, chickens, and these latest horses. Some of my "saves" have been cats I've taken from folks who no longer wanted them, a baby snapping turtle (who I couldn't save), and a baby pigeon, who I did raise successfully.
In looking back, I'm glad we've extended ourselves this way. In my case, taking in unwanted cats (and buying one from crackheads) has proved to be a source of much affection and satisfaction; they have all become wonderful pets and companions. Sadly, our similar efforts with humans have not always been so successful. As the saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. Usually, though, horses are smarter in this regard than people are!
Yeehah!
Catbird
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Monday, January 08, 2007
Not Your Grandparent's Witchhazel! Actually, It Could Be...
Dear Reader,This is a photograph of the flower of "Hamamalis Vernalis," in English, Common Witchhazel. I was hoping for a clearer photo but I'm new at this "nature photography" thing, so I'm still working on it!
In any case, it's January, supposedly the dead of winter, although this past weekend saw a day as warm as any spring day, 70 degrees! These little guys, though, would probably be in bloom anyway; the witchhazel is what might be called a very early bloomer (winter, before spring) or a very late bloomer (winter, after fall). This year for some reason, there is a great bloom on my witchhazel shrubs out in the Park; much more than prior years.
At a distance, the blooms are almost indistinguishable from the dead leaves which are still hanging on to the branches of the shrubs. But on closer inspection, these beautiful little red-orange flowers, which resemble four-armed octopi, are very evident. I wish I could convey their scent; it's a wonderful, cinnamony smell, surprising from such a small flower, in such a cold season.
We have another wonderful smell wafting over the Park these days; pure pine, from ground-up Christmas trees that have been mulched for us volunteers to use in the Park. We only get a tiny percentage of the discarded trees, even of those in my neighborhood. I see potentially tons of mulch, out on the sidewalk wrapped in plastic, waiting to be picked up by "New York's Strongest" (the Sanitation Department; since 9/11, almost every division of public service has an "-est"), dumped in a barge which will transport these perfectly mulchable trees to somewhere south, to then be dumped into landfill. I suppose they will help the decay process of some of the rest of the stuff that's in the dumping ground; but there is so much non-organic stuff in these places that I am afraid we're creating (hell, I know we are) timebombs that are bound to go off sometime in the future. If the landfills themselves don't actually explode or combust, the toxins that they contain will negatviely impact the surrounding environment, through the water tables, run-off, who knows. It's inevitable, though, that this can't be good for the planet.
In any case, I got my pile of lovely-smelling pine tree mulch, which will get distributed over the next several weekends. Along with raking and picking up trash, this is the only real work in the Park at the moment. Pruning doesn't start until February, when I'll begin working on my roses and other late-blooming shrubs. I'm really worried that many of the early bloomers, the quinces, forsythia and even some of the early bulbs, will be in jeopardy because of the extremely warm weather we've had over the last week or so. Many of them are either budding, or poking their heads out of the dirt, and if we have a cold spate they may freeze off and not be able to bounce back. We'll see.
Even in as unnatural a place as Riverside Park on the edge of Manhattan, in the middle of one of the most densely populated areas on earth, nature rules. I love watching the flow and changes of the seasons; even when they are as disrupted as they have been this year. Anticipating the crocus and daffodils in early spring, watching the trees come back to life, bloom, leaf, seed and then go dormant again, keeps me in touch with real, actual life, and the ebb and flow of it. I think many New Yorkers lose touch with that, even if they have pets and house plants. It's too bad, too, because there is so much nature to watch and enjoy in the City, like little, inconspicuous flowers of a shrub that has been on herbalists' lists for hundreds of years.
More to come,
Catbird
Monday, January 01, 2007
Starry, Starry Night...
Dear Reader,
I have recently been visiting my family in West Virginia. As I said in my previous post, “On the Road, Again,” this is sometimes a difficult task. Occasionally, the one saving grace of the visits is what I see around me. There is myriad wildlife; a herd of deer, a flock of wild turkeys, a rainbow of birds, even in the wintertime.
I’ve also seen hummingbirds (summer only) bats, bears, groundhogs, skunks, rabbits, and a variety of insects, large and small, including beautiful green luna moths (think of that Lunesta ad on TV), which are the bats’ favorite food, and ladybugs.
In the dead of winter, there are ladybugs everywhere indoors. These are the result of a WV program to try to stop one insect by introducing another; in this case, they are trying to curtail the spread of the gypsy moth by releasing millions of ladybugs into the environment. When it gets cold, all of these cute little ladybugs head for warmth indoors, and make themselves at home in everyones' houses. I love ladybugs in the garden, but they are not as cute or pleasant inside a house, though I still don’t have the heart to squash them!
On the domestic side there are cattle, chickens, who provide the eggs my sister and her son eat, horses, and of late, a goat! Oh, and the resident cats and dogs, who live outdoors in houses or the barn, at least for the most part.
Despite all of this zoology, the thing that really sets this place apart from the City is the sky. Not the daytime sky so much; we get beautiful blue-sky days in the City that I wouldn’t trade for anywhere else. But on a clear night out in the country, the sky is nearly unrecognizable from that of even the clearest night in the City. It’s easy to forget how many stars and other celestial bodies there are in the night sky. In addition to the few major items we can see in the City: the Moon, Mars, sometimes, Venus, occasionally, and the constellation Orion, there are dozens of other formations, and literally millions of visible stars.
On a clear night in West Virginia I can see the above-listed subjects, plus the Big and Little Dippers (Ursas Major and Minor); Cassiopeia; and many others that I know are constellations, and that I can never remember the names of. But in addition to these, there are stars upon stars; instead of a few stars with big gaps of black sky, as in the City night sky, there are millions of stars, with small gaps. It’s just remarkable, and makes me realize how small we truly are.
I think it would be really neat if, maybe once a year, we could have a “Black-Out Night” in the City. At a predetermined hour, all of the lights in the City and its environs would be turned off for 15 minutes, to allow people who never get the chance to get away from the continuous daytime of the urban environment to have the opportunity to see what the night sky actually looks like.
Who knows, it might make a big difference to some people. Maybe some young new astronomers would be inspired, or maybe some people wouldn’t feel so big and invulnerable. Probably not, but I can wish upon a star, can’t I?
More to come,
Catbird
I have recently been visiting my family in West Virginia. As I said in my previous post, “On the Road, Again,” this is sometimes a difficult task. Occasionally, the one saving grace of the visits is what I see around me. There is myriad wildlife; a herd of deer, a flock of wild turkeys, a rainbow of birds, even in the wintertime.
I’ve also seen hummingbirds (summer only) bats, bears, groundhogs, skunks, rabbits, and a variety of insects, large and small, including beautiful green luna moths (think of that Lunesta ad on TV), which are the bats’ favorite food, and ladybugs.
In the dead of winter, there are ladybugs everywhere indoors. These are the result of a WV program to try to stop one insect by introducing another; in this case, they are trying to curtail the spread of the gypsy moth by releasing millions of ladybugs into the environment. When it gets cold, all of these cute little ladybugs head for warmth indoors, and make themselves at home in everyones' houses. I love ladybugs in the garden, but they are not as cute or pleasant inside a house, though I still don’t have the heart to squash them!
On the domestic side there are cattle, chickens, who provide the eggs my sister and her son eat, horses, and of late, a goat! Oh, and the resident cats and dogs, who live outdoors in houses or the barn, at least for the most part.
Despite all of this zoology, the thing that really sets this place apart from the City is the sky. Not the daytime sky so much; we get beautiful blue-sky days in the City that I wouldn’t trade for anywhere else. But on a clear night out in the country, the sky is nearly unrecognizable from that of even the clearest night in the City. It’s easy to forget how many stars and other celestial bodies there are in the night sky. In addition to the few major items we can see in the City: the Moon, Mars, sometimes, Venus, occasionally, and the constellation Orion, there are dozens of other formations, and literally millions of visible stars.
On a clear night in West Virginia I can see the above-listed subjects, plus the Big and Little Dippers (Ursas Major and Minor); Cassiopeia; and many others that I know are constellations, and that I can never remember the names of. But in addition to these, there are stars upon stars; instead of a few stars with big gaps of black sky, as in the City night sky, there are millions of stars, with small gaps. It’s just remarkable, and makes me realize how small we truly are.
I think it would be really neat if, maybe once a year, we could have a “Black-Out Night” in the City. At a predetermined hour, all of the lights in the City and its environs would be turned off for 15 minutes, to allow people who never get the chance to get away from the continuous daytime of the urban environment to have the opportunity to see what the night sky actually looks like.
Who knows, it might make a big difference to some people. Maybe some young new astronomers would be inspired, or maybe some people wouldn’t feel so big and invulnerable. Probably not, but I can wish upon a star, can’t I?
More to come,
Catbird
Saturday, December 23, 2006
On the Road, Again
Dear Reader,
I got out on the road again, driving from NYC to central West Virginia, to spend Christmas with my family. The area of WV most of them live in is the same that had the mining disaster last January; our farm and homes are a couple of miles "over yonder" from the Sago Mine, where 12 men died last year. It was a mixed blessing and curse for the area; lots of press coverage and national attention, but a terrible loss in such a sparsely populated area.
The drive down is difficult, but it's really the only practical way to get there. I used to take the train to Washington, DC, then rent a car from there and go. That drive was only about 4 1/2 hours, but given the train trip, I would end up stopping about halfway out and spend an overnight in a motel (the Fort Hill Motel, in beautiful Petersburg, WV; stop by if you're ever out there!), then drive the rest of the way the following day. Driving directly from New York is an 8-hour trek, almost all on interstates. It's exhausting, but I've never had any problems, aside for one speeding ticket, in Maryland, of course. I just have to prepare myself for it; driving 8 hours alone is stressing and as I said, exhausting, despite the fact that I do love driving. I especially love driving long distances at high speeds, with the radio or other music cranked up really loud. I've been told I drive like a man, but all that means is that I pass other cars sometimes.
I frequently, actually always, question why I go down there. I am the one who maintains any contact with my family. They almost never initiate communication, except for the occasional emergency, and even then they sometimes wait a few days to let me know something has happened. As my Dad says, I am the "prodigal." I'm the one who really left home; went away to school and has not moved back home at any point. Once I was out, I was out. Both of my sisters have moved home on occasion, after their initial exits. I have not, so I'm the outsider. Even now, my youngest sister lives 8/10 of a mile from my Dad's house; my middle sister lives about 2 1/2 hours away; I live in the foreign country of New York City.
Now, I was not born in WV, nor am I "from" there. Both my parents were born there; they grew up in neighboring towns (actually, she lived in "town;" he lived out in the country). My Dad joined the Navy in 1942, for WW II (The Big One) and served as a reconnaissance pilot in the Pacific. After a post-war hiatus of going to law school, and continuing to serve in the Naval Reserve, he opted to go back into the active Navy in 1952 or thereabouts. Altogether, he served 37 years as both a Naval lawyer and judge, and we traveled to many different places during his career. My Mom also had adventures outside of WV before marrying my Dad, including a stint in, of all places, New York City! More of this history will entail many blog entries. My middle sister and I were actually born in Norfolk, VA. My youngest sister was born in Newport, RI. How we all ended up where we are makes for even more blog columns.
I do value the independent spirit that I get from my WV heritage. And, I value the beauty and isolation of the place. I am glad that we have a farm down there; parts of this property have been in our family for about 200 years, maybe longer at this point. Recently, well, 1996, a property opened up adjacent to our farm, and my Dad decided it was time to go "home." He bought the house, which sits on 10 acres of land, and lives there now. My youngest sister had moved into our farm house (my Dad's childhood home) in 1994, and lives there now. It's a relief to me to know that one of us is that close to my Dad, but also that he is there for my sister and her son. That has, at least, seemed to work out.
So, I'll be in WV for a week. I hate leaving my home, my apartment, my friends and my cats. I hate leaving the City. But when I'm out in the country I fall into that place's routine, and by the time I have to leave, I've become acclimated and find it difficult to pull away. I also do miss my Dad and sister. But I always have such a sense of relief when I get back to NYC. I know that sounds crazy, but I find the City so much more my speed, my sensibility, my place, than any other place, even "home."
More West Virginia tales to come; it's only December 27, but I already have enough for several columns. I hope everyone had a great Christmas or Hanukkah, and that the New Year brings all good things! I'll try to keep entertaining you, as well.
From the Mountain State,
Catbird
I got out on the road again, driving from NYC to central West Virginia, to spend Christmas with my family. The area of WV most of them live in is the same that had the mining disaster last January; our farm and homes are a couple of miles "over yonder" from the Sago Mine, where 12 men died last year. It was a mixed blessing and curse for the area; lots of press coverage and national attention, but a terrible loss in such a sparsely populated area.
The drive down is difficult, but it's really the only practical way to get there. I used to take the train to Washington, DC, then rent a car from there and go. That drive was only about 4 1/2 hours, but given the train trip, I would end up stopping about halfway out and spend an overnight in a motel (the Fort Hill Motel, in beautiful Petersburg, WV; stop by if you're ever out there!), then drive the rest of the way the following day. Driving directly from New York is an 8-hour trek, almost all on interstates. It's exhausting, but I've never had any problems, aside for one speeding ticket, in Maryland, of course. I just have to prepare myself for it; driving 8 hours alone is stressing and as I said, exhausting, despite the fact that I do love driving. I especially love driving long distances at high speeds, with the radio or other music cranked up really loud. I've been told I drive like a man, but all that means is that I pass other cars sometimes.
I frequently, actually always, question why I go down there. I am the one who maintains any contact with my family. They almost never initiate communication, except for the occasional emergency, and even then they sometimes wait a few days to let me know something has happened. As my Dad says, I am the "prodigal." I'm the one who really left home; went away to school and has not moved back home at any point. Once I was out, I was out. Both of my sisters have moved home on occasion, after their initial exits. I have not, so I'm the outsider. Even now, my youngest sister lives 8/10 of a mile from my Dad's house; my middle sister lives about 2 1/2 hours away; I live in the foreign country of New York City.
Now, I was not born in WV, nor am I "from" there. Both my parents were born there; they grew up in neighboring towns (actually, she lived in "town;" he lived out in the country). My Dad joined the Navy in 1942, for WW II (The Big One) and served as a reconnaissance pilot in the Pacific. After a post-war hiatus of going to law school, and continuing to serve in the Naval Reserve, he opted to go back into the active Navy in 1952 or thereabouts. Altogether, he served 37 years as both a Naval lawyer and judge, and we traveled to many different places during his career. My Mom also had adventures outside of WV before marrying my Dad, including a stint in, of all places, New York City! More of this history will entail many blog entries. My middle sister and I were actually born in Norfolk, VA. My youngest sister was born in Newport, RI. How we all ended up where we are makes for even more blog columns.
I do value the independent spirit that I get from my WV heritage. And, I value the beauty and isolation of the place. I am glad that we have a farm down there; parts of this property have been in our family for about 200 years, maybe longer at this point. Recently, well, 1996, a property opened up adjacent to our farm, and my Dad decided it was time to go "home." He bought the house, which sits on 10 acres of land, and lives there now. My youngest sister had moved into our farm house (my Dad's childhood home) in 1994, and lives there now. It's a relief to me to know that one of us is that close to my Dad, but also that he is there for my sister and her son. That has, at least, seemed to work out.
So, I'll be in WV for a week. I hate leaving my home, my apartment, my friends and my cats. I hate leaving the City. But when I'm out in the country I fall into that place's routine, and by the time I have to leave, I've become acclimated and find it difficult to pull away. I also do miss my Dad and sister. But I always have such a sense of relief when I get back to NYC. I know that sounds crazy, but I find the City so much more my speed, my sensibility, my place, than any other place, even "home."
More West Virginia tales to come; it's only December 27, but I already have enough for several columns. I hope everyone had a great Christmas or Hanukkah, and that the New Year brings all good things! I'll try to keep entertaining you, as well.
From the Mountain State,
Catbird
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Champing at the Bit
Dear Reader,
I am champing at the bit to write a column on the recent secession from the North American Episcopal Church of The Falls Church congregation in Virginia.
As a former member of this particular church, I think I have a unique insight into this decision, which I want to share with you. I just need some time to formulate it, and try to avoid making it sound like a diatribe. In the next couple of days, though, I've "gotta" say something!
Yours,
Catbird
I am champing at the bit to write a column on the recent secession from the North American Episcopal Church of The Falls Church congregation in Virginia.
As a former member of this particular church, I think I have a unique insight into this decision, which I want to share with you. I just need some time to formulate it, and try to avoid making it sound like a diatribe. In the next couple of days, though, I've "gotta" say something!
Yours,
Catbird
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Small Town: New York City
Dear Reader,
The next time one of your out-of-town relatives gives you the line about how unfriendly, alienating, anonymous and generally psychologically burdensome New York City must be (“and I just don’t understand how you can live there”), let them know what many of us who live here know: New York City, in some ways, is simply a collection of small towns. We happen to call them “neighborhoods,” but anywhere else in America, they would be small to medium towns, or even cities, and they have all of the same positives, and some of the negatives, that small towns exhibit.
In my own neighborhood, the Upper West Side, I’ve got a Mom-and-Pop (literally) store where they know my name and what I’m going to order when I walk in; we talk about their young son and how he’s doing, and the wife keeps track of when I come in (“Late today;” “Early today”). I’ve got many folks that I say “Hi” to in the street; folks I know from my various activities in the Park, living in my building, going to the vet, shopping, etc. I’ve got regular folks I see in the Park when I’m working out there; sometimes we intersect on Broadway, and they do a double-take when they see me out of context (as do I). I’ve got people I met when I was volunteering out in the medians of Broadway; we still stop to chat when we run into each other.
But, it’s more than just the neighborhood I live in; the “small town NYC” stretches to other neighborhoods sometimes. Last week it was the East Side, where I went to a concert of my old chorus. I hadn’t sung with these folks for more than 10 years, but when I went to the post-concert reception, I was so pleased to see many of my old singing compatriots, and they were equally glad to see me. I also ran into other old friends on the way into the concert, with whom I sat and caught up. Given the numbers of performances on any given night in the NYC area, it always amazes me when I run into people I know at concerts, but I almost always seem to.
Last night, I went caroling with a group of folks down in the West Village. This was an activity sponsored by another choral group, one of whose members sings with my group occasionally. He emailed me the particulars of the caroling evening; I sent it out to my group; I was the only one from my group to show up. Here I was in a room where I knew only one person, and not all that well, but I decided to make a go of it anyway. We went out, walked around the lovely, quaint area of the West Village along Hudson Street, caroling and chatting. Reactions to our presentation were mixed, but many more positive than negative. We were even invited into a couple of trés chic restaurants to sing for the patrons! Alienating, indeed. At the end of the evening, back in the church school cafeteria we started from, I had a very nice chat with a member of the Parks Department’s horticultural crew. She works in Brooklyn, but we had a lively conversation about male and female gingko trees, pulling down dead branches, seasonal “hort” work, and other fascinating topics. As large as the City is, many times it feels very small to me!
I looked for a great bar I used to go to in that neighborhood; McBell’s on 6th Avenue. It seems to have been swallowed up in the “mallification” of that stretch of 6th. Too bad. It was the kind of place a woman alone, or anyone for that matter, could go into, sit at a table, eat a burger, drink a couple of beers, and not be made to feel like a pariah. Fortunately, there is a place like that in my own neighborhood, so I went there for a post-caroling repast, and ended the evening on an up note. And oh, yeah, the bartender in this place knows me, too. I don’t frequent the place, but she’s “small town” enough to even remember the occasional customers. “Anonymous” indeed!
So, next time you visit New York, or my neighborhood, look around and see all of the small town “values” exhibited here every day. Yeah, we have crime, shootings, people sleeping on the sidewalks, drugs, theft, you name it, but every single place in this country has those things. We just have more people who hear about these eventualities while or after they happen, and word spreads faster. At least we don’t have people spitting wads of “chew” into the gutter, and our meth labs are in penthouse apartments.
I Love New York,
Catbird
The next time one of your out-of-town relatives gives you the line about how unfriendly, alienating, anonymous and generally psychologically burdensome New York City must be (“and I just don’t understand how you can live there”), let them know what many of us who live here know: New York City, in some ways, is simply a collection of small towns. We happen to call them “neighborhoods,” but anywhere else in America, they would be small to medium towns, or even cities, and they have all of the same positives, and some of the negatives, that small towns exhibit.
In my own neighborhood, the Upper West Side, I’ve got a Mom-and-Pop (literally) store where they know my name and what I’m going to order when I walk in; we talk about their young son and how he’s doing, and the wife keeps track of when I come in (“Late today;” “Early today”). I’ve got many folks that I say “Hi” to in the street; folks I know from my various activities in the Park, living in my building, going to the vet, shopping, etc. I’ve got regular folks I see in the Park when I’m working out there; sometimes we intersect on Broadway, and they do a double-take when they see me out of context (as do I). I’ve got people I met when I was volunteering out in the medians of Broadway; we still stop to chat when we run into each other.
But, it’s more than just the neighborhood I live in; the “small town NYC” stretches to other neighborhoods sometimes. Last week it was the East Side, where I went to a concert of my old chorus. I hadn’t sung with these folks for more than 10 years, but when I went to the post-concert reception, I was so pleased to see many of my old singing compatriots, and they were equally glad to see me. I also ran into other old friends on the way into the concert, with whom I sat and caught up. Given the numbers of performances on any given night in the NYC area, it always amazes me when I run into people I know at concerts, but I almost always seem to.
Last night, I went caroling with a group of folks down in the West Village. This was an activity sponsored by another choral group, one of whose members sings with my group occasionally. He emailed me the particulars of the caroling evening; I sent it out to my group; I was the only one from my group to show up. Here I was in a room where I knew only one person, and not all that well, but I decided to make a go of it anyway. We went out, walked around the lovely, quaint area of the West Village along Hudson Street, caroling and chatting. Reactions to our presentation were mixed, but many more positive than negative. We were even invited into a couple of trés chic restaurants to sing for the patrons! Alienating, indeed. At the end of the evening, back in the church school cafeteria we started from, I had a very nice chat with a member of the Parks Department’s horticultural crew. She works in Brooklyn, but we had a lively conversation about male and female gingko trees, pulling down dead branches, seasonal “hort” work, and other fascinating topics. As large as the City is, many times it feels very small to me!
I looked for a great bar I used to go to in that neighborhood; McBell’s on 6th Avenue. It seems to have been swallowed up in the “mallification” of that stretch of 6th. Too bad. It was the kind of place a woman alone, or anyone for that matter, could go into, sit at a table, eat a burger, drink a couple of beers, and not be made to feel like a pariah. Fortunately, there is a place like that in my own neighborhood, so I went there for a post-caroling repast, and ended the evening on an up note. And oh, yeah, the bartender in this place knows me, too. I don’t frequent the place, but she’s “small town” enough to even remember the occasional customers. “Anonymous” indeed!
So, next time you visit New York, or my neighborhood, look around and see all of the small town “values” exhibited here every day. Yeah, we have crime, shootings, people sleeping on the sidewalks, drugs, theft, you name it, but every single place in this country has those things. We just have more people who hear about these eventualities while or after they happen, and word spreads faster. At least we don’t have people spitting wads of “chew” into the gutter, and our meth labs are in penthouse apartments.
I Love New York,
Catbird
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Confusion|Resolution?
Dear Reader,
I hope I am finally beginning to reassemble myself after so many weeks of feeling in pieces. I decided to stop attending rehearsals of my chorus for a couple of weeks, and dovetailing that on to a 2 week scheduled hiatus, to give myself 4 weeks of neutrality. I miss my chorus friends, the singing, and the general activity terribly, but I felt a huge weight lifted off of me when I left our rehearsal room the other night, after dropping off "snack" materials, "ticketing" materials, and other items to make sure my responsibilities were covered while I was out.
Unfortunately, despite this step forward, I have not been able to resolve my desire to communicate with the gentleman in question. I was saddened to see that he has chosen to take his blog off-line; I don't know why this decision was taken, but I did leave comments letting him know that I was disappointed at this step and that I hope he gets the blog back up soon. I doubt I will ever know if he has or has not; he didn't bother to respond to or even acknowledge my comments.
For those not familiar with the blog world, or at least the world of "Blogger," when one sets up a blog, one can allow the blog to accept comments from readers in a few different ways. Except for the delimitations of "No Comments," or "Comments by "Team" Members Only," comments made will usually initiate an email to the address of the blogger's choice, letting him know that someone has actually read the blog (!), and taken the time to say something (!!). Occasionally these comments will be spam-like, but that does not seem to be typical.
In any case, on not receiving any response or even acknowledgement, I also sent him a short, slightly admonishing message, letting him know that he should at least acknowledge comments, even if he does not respond to them. Again, I doubt I will get a reply of any kind.
In some ways, this is confusing to me. He hurt me, not vice versa. So, I don't understand why he has decided that my communications are not worth a response, even a "Got your message; no comment." To me, this is just small, mean behavior. I don't know how else to think of it. I have tried to be nothing but nice; my comments on his blog have been all positive, or at least I thought they were, even when I was disagreeing a little; I have never said "Do Not Respond," or something equivalent; I just don't get the poor manners.
I had said "FIN" below, and thought I was indeed fin. Well, apparently I wasn't quite. But, this past rehearsal night off has gotten me closer to finally being "fin," and having said what I wanted to, I think I may be, finally! At least, I hope so. So, perhaps I am reaching resolution, having resolved to do so; I hope I can leave my confusion behind in the next few weeks, and start the New Year with a positive outlook, or at least not a negative one. We'll see, I suppose.
More to come,
Catbird
I hope I am finally beginning to reassemble myself after so many weeks of feeling in pieces. I decided to stop attending rehearsals of my chorus for a couple of weeks, and dovetailing that on to a 2 week scheduled hiatus, to give myself 4 weeks of neutrality. I miss my chorus friends, the singing, and the general activity terribly, but I felt a huge weight lifted off of me when I left our rehearsal room the other night, after dropping off "snack" materials, "ticketing" materials, and other items to make sure my responsibilities were covered while I was out.
Unfortunately, despite this step forward, I have not been able to resolve my desire to communicate with the gentleman in question. I was saddened to see that he has chosen to take his blog off-line; I don't know why this decision was taken, but I did leave comments letting him know that I was disappointed at this step and that I hope he gets the blog back up soon. I doubt I will ever know if he has or has not; he didn't bother to respond to or even acknowledge my comments.
For those not familiar with the blog world, or at least the world of "Blogger," when one sets up a blog, one can allow the blog to accept comments from readers in a few different ways. Except for the delimitations of "No Comments," or "Comments by "Team" Members Only," comments made will usually initiate an email to the address of the blogger's choice, letting him know that someone has actually read the blog (!), and taken the time to say something (!!). Occasionally these comments will be spam-like, but that does not seem to be typical.
In any case, on not receiving any response or even acknowledgement, I also sent him a short, slightly admonishing message, letting him know that he should at least acknowledge comments, even if he does not respond to them. Again, I doubt I will get a reply of any kind.
In some ways, this is confusing to me. He hurt me, not vice versa. So, I don't understand why he has decided that my communications are not worth a response, even a "Got your message; no comment." To me, this is just small, mean behavior. I don't know how else to think of it. I have tried to be nothing but nice; my comments on his blog have been all positive, or at least I thought they were, even when I was disagreeing a little; I have never said "Do Not Respond," or something equivalent; I just don't get the poor manners.
I had said "FIN" below, and thought I was indeed fin. Well, apparently I wasn't quite. But, this past rehearsal night off has gotten me closer to finally being "fin," and having said what I wanted to, I think I may be, finally! At least, I hope so. So, perhaps I am reaching resolution, having resolved to do so; I hope I can leave my confusion behind in the next few weeks, and start the New Year with a positive outlook, or at least not a negative one. We'll see, I suppose.
More to come,
Catbird
Friday, December 08, 2006
Depression.
Dear Reader,
My entry of yesterday does not mean "FIN" to this column; it means the end of my efforts to keep a connection going with someone who clearly does not want any connection with me whatsoever.
This episode, from beginning to end, has been terribly difficult and painful for me. It has confirmed all of the fears I had of trying to see someone again; it confirmed every iota of self-doubt and insecurity I have; it confirmed that, apparently, my "fate" is to be alone. This is a pretty hard reality to have to face, and accept.
My entire thought process centers around the question: what is wrong with me? And the corollaries: what did I do wrong; what is it about me that is not good enough; am I not smart, educated, erudite enough; am I too old, coarse, clumsy, silly, what? Is it my tattoo?
I cannot think in positive terms, no matter how I try. I am even going to stay away from my chorus; I simply can't continue to go to rehearsals and deal with NOT dealing with the gentleman in question. It makes me feel too badly after rehearsal. As long as I'm with my chorus friends and singing, or keeping busy, I'm fine, but as soon as I'm alone and begin ruminating, I'm lost.
I suppose if I had gone through this 15 years ago, I might not be feeling as badly. But going through this at my age, after being alone for so long, is doubly painful. And having no future prospects makes for a very bleak outlook. In general, life sucks, and I don't know how to get myself to feel better.
I am hoping that if I stay away from the chorus for a while, and have no further communications with the individual, I might have a chance to recover. We'll see. Missing rehearsals may ultimately do more harm than good, but it's the only alternative I can think of at the moment.
I had hoped to write a more cheerful column about the weather change (at last!) here in NYC, but I'll save that for the weekend. Suffice it to say that we're finally having some date-appropriate weather, although we pretty much skipped Fall and went right from summer to winter. More on this in another entry. I will still be out in the gardens this weekend, as there is still much "close down" work to do, like leaf raking (UGH!).
Yours,
Catbird
My entry of yesterday does not mean "FIN" to this column; it means the end of my efforts to keep a connection going with someone who clearly does not want any connection with me whatsoever.
This episode, from beginning to end, has been terribly difficult and painful for me. It has confirmed all of the fears I had of trying to see someone again; it confirmed every iota of self-doubt and insecurity I have; it confirmed that, apparently, my "fate" is to be alone. This is a pretty hard reality to have to face, and accept.
My entire thought process centers around the question: what is wrong with me? And the corollaries: what did I do wrong; what is it about me that is not good enough; am I not smart, educated, erudite enough; am I too old, coarse, clumsy, silly, what? Is it my tattoo?
I cannot think in positive terms, no matter how I try. I am even going to stay away from my chorus; I simply can't continue to go to rehearsals and deal with NOT dealing with the gentleman in question. It makes me feel too badly after rehearsal. As long as I'm with my chorus friends and singing, or keeping busy, I'm fine, but as soon as I'm alone and begin ruminating, I'm lost.
I suppose if I had gone through this 15 years ago, I might not be feeling as badly. But going through this at my age, after being alone for so long, is doubly painful. And having no future prospects makes for a very bleak outlook. In general, life sucks, and I don't know how to get myself to feel better.
I am hoping that if I stay away from the chorus for a while, and have no further communications with the individual, I might have a chance to recover. We'll see. Missing rehearsals may ultimately do more harm than good, but it's the only alternative I can think of at the moment.
I had hoped to write a more cheerful column about the weather change (at last!) here in NYC, but I'll save that for the weekend. Suffice it to say that we're finally having some date-appropriate weather, although we pretty much skipped Fall and went right from summer to winter. More on this in another entry. I will still be out in the gardens this weekend, as there is still much "close down" work to do, like leaf raking (UGH!).
Yours,
Catbird
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Philosophy 101
Dear Reader,
The following is something I wrote back in the middle of August, before I actually opened this blog. It was also before several events happened: the man I was trying to date dumped me (twice), my beautiful cat became ill and died, I started to feel lonely, inadequate and rejected, all manner of negative stuff. I am amazed at how positively I was looking at life only about 3 ½ months ago! I hope I am able to get back to this, which is a correspondence with a friend of mine (he’s married), who was having some of his own issues at that time ("I'm" in rose; "he's" in gray):
I've been working on this for some time, so I apologize for my delayed response to yours of a couple of weeks ago. This is apropos of our discussion re: the house out there and the difficulties dealing with it sometimes. I hope you realize that I do mean to help, or at least give another viewpoint, and I'm glad that you and I have worked together long enough so that I can do that. That said, here is what I have to say in furtherance of this discussion:
Like most good things of value, this one takes a lot of time and aggravation, and as time goes by I seem to have less patience. So, I get down.
Then, I still seem to rally—especially on a beautiful day.
As far as I can tell, from myself and those around me, you're not alone in your lack of patience. For me, the core thought is that there are things over which I simply have no control, and so are not worth expending the energy of aggravation or frustration. I don't mean this as surrender by any means, but more a source of trying to turn negatives into positives.
I've found over the years that frustration, anger and other negative emotions really devour much more energy than other ones. As a conservationist, I try to save energy, including my own. This doesn't mean I'm disinterested or uninvolved; it means that I say a couple of GD's, then go to the next thing. How to correct the problem, how to avoid it in the future, etc. Also, being frustrated shouldn't bring you down; it should simply challenge you, like exercising or, in my case, going to sleep. These are not irreparable things; just a few bumps in the road. And, on a nice day, you've got that renewal.
Sometimes, when I go out into my gardens after a busy Friday or Saturday night, I get truly angry and depressed at what I find. How can civilized human beings do this? Don't they have any consideration for other folks in the park? Believe me, I find awful stuff, that is truly upsetting. I sometimes (less frequently these days) find plants damaged or destroyed, trees harmed, trash, dog excrement, etc. So, I mutter under my breath while I undo the damage, and hope, by doing so, that the people who do the damage will learn something, and the folks who use the park will do more to stand up for the place when I'm not there. Believe it or not, this has had some success. I have far less trash and damage now than I did even a year ago. Even my resident psycho generally cleans up after himself. Why? Because I took the problems and just worked over them. It's very hard, believe me, but conserving and renewing your emotional energy this way really helps.
I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I just walk around and closely examine the plants and trees, to check out how they are doing, and to re-energize myself. I really feel that I can get some positive energy from this. I know you have spent a lot of time and money making the grounds of the house beautiful and resemble some of your early life's surroundings. I think you had shad and a few other plants put in that are not typical in New York gardens. It might help, on one of those beautiful days, or better yet, a crappy one, to go out and see how those guys are doing. I think your wife is totally on the right track with a cutting garden and other garden accoutrements!
Tell me, wise “Catbird,” how does a person break the habits of a lifetime, and accept things that are not perfect?! Really! I would like to know. That is my struggle. How can I be content to accept that I can’t control things important-- at least to me?
So, my thought is, you don't have to accept things that are less than perfect, but don't expend so much energy being irritated about their lack of perfection. Try to see the steps necessary to make things the way you want them to be, but remember that attaining perfection is a long and arduous process, which may involve several stops along the way. Also, keep in mind that your version of perfect may not be another person's, or anyone else's for that matter.
In general, you can control the really important things. Maybe not when a sprinkler goes on or off, or certainly when it rains, but other things you can control. Worried about a storm? Okay, insurance is in place, but maybe you want to get a generator, just in case the power goes out for any length of time. Keep some gasoline available, just in case; flashlights, batteries; you know the drill. Make sure any meds you and yours need are available. As you and she get older this will become a more important issue.
You can control your health to a large extent. These days, we're in a much better position to do that than ever before. We know more about what our bodies are doing (or not) than any generation before us, and know more about what to do (or not) to keep our bodies (the machines our minds and spirits live in) going.
It's not as black and white as accepting things the way they are. Everything is really gray; you can do something to make things more the way you want, but on the other hand, you may never be able to get things exactly the way you want. This would apply to the current house, and certainly to a new one, because you would have to start the honing process all over again. By keeping the house you currently have, you're many more steps down the road than you would be if you started over again.
I read this back and I see a lucky, spoiled person talking!!
No, you're neither spoiled nor lucky. You have high expectations because those are the standards you were imbued with. And thank heaven for that. I hate the "least common denominator" mentality that seems to govern most of society nowadays, and I fear that it's only going to get worse. I fear that folks my age may be the last bunch to realize there is something better than people who can't (or won't) speak English, who think that rap is actually music, and that what's on TV is a parameter to live UP to. I think all I can do is work hard, take care of my gardens, sing well, and hope that in some way I leave something behind to make subsequent people appreciate the better things in life. I think you can do that, too.
Sorry to get so philosophical, but it helps me focus my thoughts, as well. Again, try to make things a positive. It really helps.
Yes, it does,
Catbird
The following is something I wrote back in the middle of August, before I actually opened this blog. It was also before several events happened: the man I was trying to date dumped me (twice), my beautiful cat became ill and died, I started to feel lonely, inadequate and rejected, all manner of negative stuff. I am amazed at how positively I was looking at life only about 3 ½ months ago! I hope I am able to get back to this, which is a correspondence with a friend of mine (he’s married), who was having some of his own issues at that time ("I'm" in rose; "he's" in gray):
I've been working on this for some time, so I apologize for my delayed response to yours of a couple of weeks ago. This is apropos of our discussion re: the house out there and the difficulties dealing with it sometimes. I hope you realize that I do mean to help, or at least give another viewpoint, and I'm glad that you and I have worked together long enough so that I can do that. That said, here is what I have to say in furtherance of this discussion:
Like most good things of value, this one takes a lot of time and aggravation, and as time goes by I seem to have less patience. So, I get down.
Then, I still seem to rally—especially on a beautiful day.
As far as I can tell, from myself and those around me, you're not alone in your lack of patience. For me, the core thought is that there are things over which I simply have no control, and so are not worth expending the energy of aggravation or frustration. I don't mean this as surrender by any means, but more a source of trying to turn negatives into positives.
I've found over the years that frustration, anger and other negative emotions really devour much more energy than other ones. As a conservationist, I try to save energy, including my own. This doesn't mean I'm disinterested or uninvolved; it means that I say a couple of GD's, then go to the next thing. How to correct the problem, how to avoid it in the future, etc. Also, being frustrated shouldn't bring you down; it should simply challenge you, like exercising or, in my case, going to sleep. These are not irreparable things; just a few bumps in the road. And, on a nice day, you've got that renewal.
Sometimes, when I go out into my gardens after a busy Friday or Saturday night, I get truly angry and depressed at what I find. How can civilized human beings do this? Don't they have any consideration for other folks in the park? Believe me, I find awful stuff, that is truly upsetting. I sometimes (less frequently these days) find plants damaged or destroyed, trees harmed, trash, dog excrement, etc. So, I mutter under my breath while I undo the damage, and hope, by doing so, that the people who do the damage will learn something, and the folks who use the park will do more to stand up for the place when I'm not there. Believe it or not, this has had some success. I have far less trash and damage now than I did even a year ago. Even my resident psycho generally cleans up after himself. Why? Because I took the problems and just worked over them. It's very hard, believe me, but conserving and renewing your emotional energy this way really helps.
I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I just walk around and closely examine the plants and trees, to check out how they are doing, and to re-energize myself. I really feel that I can get some positive energy from this. I know you have spent a lot of time and money making the grounds of the house beautiful and resemble some of your early life's surroundings. I think you had shad and a few other plants put in that are not typical in New York gardens. It might help, on one of those beautiful days, or better yet, a crappy one, to go out and see how those guys are doing. I think your wife is totally on the right track with a cutting garden and other garden accoutrements!
Tell me, wise “Catbird,” how does a person break the habits of a lifetime, and accept things that are not perfect?! Really! I would like to know. That is my struggle. How can I be content to accept that I can’t control things important-- at least to me?
So, my thought is, you don't have to accept things that are less than perfect, but don't expend so much energy being irritated about their lack of perfection. Try to see the steps necessary to make things the way you want them to be, but remember that attaining perfection is a long and arduous process, which may involve several stops along the way. Also, keep in mind that your version of perfect may not be another person's, or anyone else's for that matter.
In general, you can control the really important things. Maybe not when a sprinkler goes on or off, or certainly when it rains, but other things you can control. Worried about a storm? Okay, insurance is in place, but maybe you want to get a generator, just in case the power goes out for any length of time. Keep some gasoline available, just in case; flashlights, batteries; you know the drill. Make sure any meds you and yours need are available. As you and she get older this will become a more important issue.
You can control your health to a large extent. These days, we're in a much better position to do that than ever before. We know more about what our bodies are doing (or not) than any generation before us, and know more about what to do (or not) to keep our bodies (the machines our minds and spirits live in) going.
It's not as black and white as accepting things the way they are. Everything is really gray; you can do something to make things more the way you want, but on the other hand, you may never be able to get things exactly the way you want. This would apply to the current house, and certainly to a new one, because you would have to start the honing process all over again. By keeping the house you currently have, you're many more steps down the road than you would be if you started over again.
I read this back and I see a lucky, spoiled person talking!!
No, you're neither spoiled nor lucky. You have high expectations because those are the standards you were imbued with. And thank heaven for that. I hate the "least common denominator" mentality that seems to govern most of society nowadays, and I fear that it's only going to get worse. I fear that folks my age may be the last bunch to realize there is something better than people who can't (or won't) speak English, who think that rap is actually music, and that what's on TV is a parameter to live UP to. I think all I can do is work hard, take care of my gardens, sing well, and hope that in some way I leave something behind to make subsequent people appreciate the better things in life. I think you can do that, too.
Sorry to get so philosophical, but it helps me focus my thoughts, as well. Again, try to make things a positive. It really helps.
Yes, it does,
Catbird
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thanksgiving and, maybe, Thanks for Giving?
Dear Reader,
Thanksgiving.........Usually.........Sucks.
There, I said, it. That’s all it takes, really, isn’t it?
Everyone has Thanksgiving issues and “traditions,” including a story or two that probably define Thanksgiving for that family. I know that my family certainly does, some of which stories involve me.
Now, here’s a thought: why does “Thanksgiving” have to be on one, singular day, imbued with so much angst, weight, guilt, hope, love, real or hoped-for affection, largess? Why can’t a day of “thanksgiving” be recognized by individuals or families when those occasions present themselves for those folks? Why are we supposed to gather up all of the things we have to be thankful for, and only celebrate them on this day? Why can’t we celebrate whenever there is a time to be thankful?
The reason I think, is because these days, we are almost embarrassed to be happy or thankful. Many of us live great lives, but we look at what we think we lack, not at what we have. And I don’t mean what we have, compared to people in Africa or India, who truly have nothing. I mean, we compare ourselves reflexively to people on TV or in the news, to those morons who have everything and do nothing with it except buy more things for themselves. Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Brittany Spears, Sean Combs, Jay Leno (with a garage full of ultra-luxury cars and motorcycles): these famous people who have multiple, palatial homes, multiple cars, and huge screen HDTV’s in every room that they don’t even watch, live in or drive, are the people used as examples of what the rest of us should aspire to, at least with regard to what they have or do. Then, if they make a guest appearance at a high-end charity fundraiser, or donate a few thousand dollars, they proclaim their great generosity and take on the mantle of sainthood.
Look at the percentages of their incomes that the rest of the fabulously wealthy contribute to charity. Look at what the Waltons and the rest of the top BILLIONAIRES in this country (forget about those in the rest of the world) make in direct charitable donations. Never mind those poor, poverty-stricken MILLIONAIRES! If all of these folks gave even half a tithe, a twentieth of their annual income (NOT a twentieth of their assets) to charity, so many people would be helped we might be looking at a different world. And, if they gave a portion of their assets, the world would be even THAT much better!
Now, I am aware that some of the richer class give tremendous amounts to charity; they give amounts of money that can actually make a difference. But so many of them don’t. The only “charities” they donate to are their progeny, or spouses, keeping the wealth in the family. I also realize these people cannot be forced to share their wealth; they are given tax and other incentives to do so, it’s good marketing and P/R for themselves or their businesses, but to some, these things aren’t important. To them, a new pair of Manolo Blahniks or a new Jag is the priority. Too bad.
Maybe I’m a giddy optimist, and am good at spending other folk’s money. But when we live in an age where some peoples’ private fortunes are in the same league as some nations’ GNP’s, I think we have a problem with too much wealth concentrated in too few hands, even in our capitalist, laissez-faire economy and society.
On this Thanksgiving I was grateful to be with friends, with whom I had some interesting political argument. I realized I’m not alone in hoping the country will get better after this most recent election, but the jury is still out on the “new” Democratic power base.
The larger issues remain, however. There is such a great disparity between the wealthy and the poor in this country; what used to be the “middle-class” has virtually disappeared, and those of us still in the middle are being squeezed terribly. There is so much to be done, and we simply can’t afford to do it; the wealthy upper-class has to take on its “tithe,” and help the rest of our society pull itself up by its bootstraps. Truly, if this were all the wealthy did, they would be doing much more than they are now and the word “Thanksgiving” would have some real meaning to so many others.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Catbird
Thanksgiving.........Usually.........Sucks.
There, I said, it. That’s all it takes, really, isn’t it?
Everyone has Thanksgiving issues and “traditions,” including a story or two that probably define Thanksgiving for that family. I know that my family certainly does, some of which stories involve me.
Now, here’s a thought: why does “Thanksgiving” have to be on one, singular day, imbued with so much angst, weight, guilt, hope, love, real or hoped-for affection, largess? Why can’t a day of “thanksgiving” be recognized by individuals or families when those occasions present themselves for those folks? Why are we supposed to gather up all of the things we have to be thankful for, and only celebrate them on this day? Why can’t we celebrate whenever there is a time to be thankful?
The reason I think, is because these days, we are almost embarrassed to be happy or thankful. Many of us live great lives, but we look at what we think we lack, not at what we have. And I don’t mean what we have, compared to people in Africa or India, who truly have nothing. I mean, we compare ourselves reflexively to people on TV or in the news, to those morons who have everything and do nothing with it except buy more things for themselves. Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, Brittany Spears, Sean Combs, Jay Leno (with a garage full of ultra-luxury cars and motorcycles): these famous people who have multiple, palatial homes, multiple cars, and huge screen HDTV’s in every room that they don’t even watch, live in or drive, are the people used as examples of what the rest of us should aspire to, at least with regard to what they have or do. Then, if they make a guest appearance at a high-end charity fundraiser, or donate a few thousand dollars, they proclaim their great generosity and take on the mantle of sainthood.
Look at the percentages of their incomes that the rest of the fabulously wealthy contribute to charity. Look at what the Waltons and the rest of the top BILLIONAIRES in this country (forget about those in the rest of the world) make in direct charitable donations. Never mind those poor, poverty-stricken MILLIONAIRES! If all of these folks gave even half a tithe, a twentieth of their annual income (NOT a twentieth of their assets) to charity, so many people would be helped we might be looking at a different world. And, if they gave a portion of their assets, the world would be even THAT much better!
Now, I am aware that some of the richer class give tremendous amounts to charity; they give amounts of money that can actually make a difference. But so many of them don’t. The only “charities” they donate to are their progeny, or spouses, keeping the wealth in the family. I also realize these people cannot be forced to share their wealth; they are given tax and other incentives to do so, it’s good marketing and P/R for themselves or their businesses, but to some, these things aren’t important. To them, a new pair of Manolo Blahniks or a new Jag is the priority. Too bad.
Maybe I’m a giddy optimist, and am good at spending other folk’s money. But when we live in an age where some peoples’ private fortunes are in the same league as some nations’ GNP’s, I think we have a problem with too much wealth concentrated in too few hands, even in our capitalist, laissez-faire economy and society.
On this Thanksgiving I was grateful to be with friends, with whom I had some interesting political argument. I realized I’m not alone in hoping the country will get better after this most recent election, but the jury is still out on the “new” Democratic power base.
The larger issues remain, however. There is such a great disparity between the wealthy and the poor in this country; what used to be the “middle-class” has virtually disappeared, and those of us still in the middle are being squeezed terribly. There is so much to be done, and we simply can’t afford to do it; the wealthy upper-class has to take on its “tithe,” and help the rest of our society pull itself up by its bootstraps. Truly, if this were all the wealthy did, they would be doing much more than they are now and the word “Thanksgiving” would have some real meaning to so many others.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Catbird
Sunday, November 19, 2006
That’s Entertainment!
Dear Reader,
The title above is meant to be somewhat ironic. At the moment I am watching “Apocalypse Now-Redux.” I have seen the original movie in whole or in part a couple of times, but not this new cut, until now. I’m watching it on Bravo, so much of the hard-core cussing has been cut out, as I am sure many really juicy, bloody scenes have been, as well.
I’m watching it to be edified. I don’t normally do this. When I watch a movie, I want to be entertained. If I pay to go to a film, I want to come out feeling better than when I went in, not worse. I don’t want to come out of a movie questioning my existence, my intelligence, or wondering what the meaning of life is. I don’t want to regret having lost those two hours sitting through something that makes me dissatisfied or unhappy, then use my time talking or writing about it (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/11/faking-pledge.html). This doesn’t mean I am shallow; I just like to be amused. I am watching “Apoc.Now-Redux” so that I can say, at some point, that I did indeed see it, and had an opinion on it. So far, I’ve found the additional segments to be tedious and too long, and the new background music is so different as to make it obvious that these were later additions. Not being a cinema expert, my opinions are probably amateurish; so be it. I’m willing to watch this at home, late at night because, frankly, there is nothing else on and I’m not paying for it.
As I said above, if I am paying for entertainment, I want to be entertained. I want to come out of a movie or a show with a skip in my step, or at least a partial smile on my face. I get enough edification and updating from the newspapers, the radio, the internet and MSNBC or CNN Headline News. There’s enough bad news and crap to deal with in the world, the nation and this City, to warrant a little fun when one goes out. This is decidedly not an “intellectual” approach to the arts, I suppose.
I sometimes refer to people I find to be intellectually snobbish as “pseudo-intellectuals.” I recently realized that the comparison I was drawing between real intellectuals, i.e., people who are smart in a well-rounded way, and “pseudo-intellectuals,” i.e., people who like to demonstrate how “smart” they are, is essentially the same as the comparison between the established wealthy, and the nouveau-riche. The established wealthy generally have class, true style, and manners. The nouveau-riche just want to show how much stuff they have. I think the same principal applies to intellect, and the demonstrations and uses thereof.
Now, in the midst of this writing, I am watching Dennis Hopper in this film (Apocalypse Now-Redux), and he is "Fucking Brilliant." I have to say it that way. He is still Fucking Brilliant, even in the “retirement” ads he’s currently doing. And, Marlon Brando is brilliant, as are Martin Sheen and Robert Duvall. How did these four actors put in such unbelievable performances? Raw talent, I suppose, and maybe some directing by Coppola. But I digress, as I frequently do.
The point of this entry is not to defend my not having seen every film that has ever been released, or read every book published. In addition to the entertainment aspect, I also like to save my brain to try to remember who I meet, what I talk about with them, their names, etc. Sometimes I’m successful, sometimes not. Frequently, I remember discussions I’ve had with people before I remember their names. I also have to save some space in my mind for my work. Accounting/bookkeeping involves remembering minute details about a particular client’s business, details which the client is frequently conversant with, although sometimes not. And if they are not, I have to remember for them. In addition, because I work on-site many times, I have to remember where everything in each office is located: my work space, office supplies, how the copier works, that location's computer system, etc. Lots of memory required!
Damn, Brando was Amazing! Too bad he became such a parody of himself later.
I wish sometimes I could say I’d seen every movie, or read every book. I haven’t. But don’t insult me by asking me if I’ve ever seen anything (yes I have, just not all of the sad, serious stuff; ask me anything about Star Wars, Star Trek, Marx Brothers, Terminator, Lion King, sci-fi, Lord of the Rings, etc., and I can tell you all); don’t demean me by asking me if I like to read (yes, I do; the newspaper, gardening books, music and the occasional interesting novel or history book). I am not a pseudo-intellectual; I don’t need to demonstrate how smart I am by always citing stuff exterior to my own thoughts. My own mind is a good enough demonstration of my smarts.
Oh, and the Doors are totally unbelievable (another Apoc.Now.Redux reference). What would rock music be if Jim Morrison hadn’t died??
More to Come,
Catbird
The title above is meant to be somewhat ironic. At the moment I am watching “Apocalypse Now-Redux.” I have seen the original movie in whole or in part a couple of times, but not this new cut, until now. I’m watching it on Bravo, so much of the hard-core cussing has been cut out, as I am sure many really juicy, bloody scenes have been, as well.
I’m watching it to be edified. I don’t normally do this. When I watch a movie, I want to be entertained. If I pay to go to a film, I want to come out feeling better than when I went in, not worse. I don’t want to come out of a movie questioning my existence, my intelligence, or wondering what the meaning of life is. I don’t want to regret having lost those two hours sitting through something that makes me dissatisfied or unhappy, then use my time talking or writing about it (see: http://zirconrough.blogspot.com/2006/11/faking-pledge.html). This doesn’t mean I am shallow; I just like to be amused. I am watching “Apoc.Now-Redux” so that I can say, at some point, that I did indeed see it, and had an opinion on it. So far, I’ve found the additional segments to be tedious and too long, and the new background music is so different as to make it obvious that these were later additions. Not being a cinema expert, my opinions are probably amateurish; so be it. I’m willing to watch this at home, late at night because, frankly, there is nothing else on and I’m not paying for it.
As I said above, if I am paying for entertainment, I want to be entertained. I want to come out of a movie or a show with a skip in my step, or at least a partial smile on my face. I get enough edification and updating from the newspapers, the radio, the internet and MSNBC or CNN Headline News. There’s enough bad news and crap to deal with in the world, the nation and this City, to warrant a little fun when one goes out. This is decidedly not an “intellectual” approach to the arts, I suppose.
I sometimes refer to people I find to be intellectually snobbish as “pseudo-intellectuals.” I recently realized that the comparison I was drawing between real intellectuals, i.e., people who are smart in a well-rounded way, and “pseudo-intellectuals,” i.e., people who like to demonstrate how “smart” they are, is essentially the same as the comparison between the established wealthy, and the nouveau-riche. The established wealthy generally have class, true style, and manners. The nouveau-riche just want to show how much stuff they have. I think the same principal applies to intellect, and the demonstrations and uses thereof.
Now, in the midst of this writing, I am watching Dennis Hopper in this film (Apocalypse Now-Redux), and he is "Fucking Brilliant." I have to say it that way. He is still Fucking Brilliant, even in the “retirement” ads he’s currently doing. And, Marlon Brando is brilliant, as are Martin Sheen and Robert Duvall. How did these four actors put in such unbelievable performances? Raw talent, I suppose, and maybe some directing by Coppola. But I digress, as I frequently do.
The point of this entry is not to defend my not having seen every film that has ever been released, or read every book published. In addition to the entertainment aspect, I also like to save my brain to try to remember who I meet, what I talk about with them, their names, etc. Sometimes I’m successful, sometimes not. Frequently, I remember discussions I’ve had with people before I remember their names. I also have to save some space in my mind for my work. Accounting/bookkeeping involves remembering minute details about a particular client’s business, details which the client is frequently conversant with, although sometimes not. And if they are not, I have to remember for them. In addition, because I work on-site many times, I have to remember where everything in each office is located: my work space, office supplies, how the copier works, that location's computer system, etc. Lots of memory required!
Damn, Brando was Amazing! Too bad he became such a parody of himself later.
I wish sometimes I could say I’d seen every movie, or read every book. I haven’t. But don’t insult me by asking me if I’ve ever seen anything (yes I have, just not all of the sad, serious stuff; ask me anything about Star Wars, Star Trek, Marx Brothers, Terminator, Lion King, sci-fi, Lord of the Rings, etc., and I can tell you all); don’t demean me by asking me if I like to read (yes, I do; the newspaper, gardening books, music and the occasional interesting novel or history book). I am not a pseudo-intellectual; I don’t need to demonstrate how smart I am by always citing stuff exterior to my own thoughts. My own mind is a good enough demonstration of my smarts.
Oh, and the Doors are totally unbelievable (another Apoc.Now.Redux reference). What would rock music be if Jim Morrison hadn’t died??
More to Come,
Catbird
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Third Try! Klaatu Barada Nikto!
Dear Readers,
Okay, no takers as of 11/15/06, so the offer has been extended again:
Klaatu Barada Nikto. You name the reference, I'll buy you a drink: for the first 5 correct answers in NYC only, to 12/15/06.
Come on, people!
Have fun,
Catbird
PS: HInt: http://www.answers.com/topic/klaatu-barada-nikto
Okay, no takers as of 11/15/06, so the offer has been extended again:
Klaatu Barada Nikto. You name the reference, I'll buy you a drink: for the first 5 correct answers in NYC only, to 12/15/06.
Come on, people!
Have fun,
Catbird
PS: HInt: http://www.answers.com/topic/klaatu-barada-nikto
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Crud.
Dear Reader,
Crud, again.
Saturday in the Park, as previously reported, was a lovely, nice day. But then we had a Sunday that rained all day, and then back to the real world on Monday.
I suppose Monday could have been worse. I made a breakthrough (I think) with a client, and had a decent time at a Riverside Park Fund meeting. But my internal milieu is so difficult, I’m left with a big sad place, which I just hate to feel.
I’ve had so much loss and death in the last two months. Loss of what I thought was affection, which apparently was never there in the first place; death of my eleven-year-old companion cat; death of a therapy partner dog; loss of my own ability to reach out; loss of most feelings of self-worth. How can I reconstruct this? How do I pull myself together again?
Where do I go from here? I feel that I’ve got no one. I don’t even know how to go out to a movie. I don’t want to be this isolated or curmudgeonly; apparently, I just am. Honestly, I don’t know where or how to begin. I’m swinging in the wind here, and have no clue as to what to do next. Any sensible advice would be appreciated.
Thanks and best,
Catbird
Crud, again.
Saturday in the Park, as previously reported, was a lovely, nice day. But then we had a Sunday that rained all day, and then back to the real world on Monday.
I suppose Monday could have been worse. I made a breakthrough (I think) with a client, and had a decent time at a Riverside Park Fund meeting. But my internal milieu is so difficult, I’m left with a big sad place, which I just hate to feel.
I’ve had so much loss and death in the last two months. Loss of what I thought was affection, which apparently was never there in the first place; death of my eleven-year-old companion cat; death of a therapy partner dog; loss of my own ability to reach out; loss of most feelings of self-worth. How can I reconstruct this? How do I pull myself together again?
Where do I go from here? I feel that I’ve got no one. I don’t even know how to go out to a movie. I don’t want to be this isolated or curmudgeonly; apparently, I just am. Honestly, I don’t know where or how to begin. I’m swinging in the wind here, and have no clue as to what to do next. Any sensible advice would be appreciated.
Thanks and best,
Catbird
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Indian Summer: A Peaceful Place in the City
Dear Reader,
Yesterday, Saturday November 11, Veteran’s Day, may also have been the first and last day of “Indian Summer.” According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, Indian Summer traditionally begins on St. Martins Day, November 11, and continues for a few days or so; a last respite of warm weather before late fall and winter really settle in.
Yesterday in the park seemed more like an early spring day than a late fall one; lots of folks out, not just dog walkers, in light jackets or shirtsleeves, playing ball or soccer, or frisbee with the dog, or sitting on the benches and reading and talking.
I was out in the late afternoon, rolling up hoses for the season and planting spring bulbs. These were both activities which felt incongruous with the weather, but which had to be done because I know that, inevitably, the cold weather will arrive, the ground will freeze, and I won’t be able to do anything outdoors but rake leaves and pick up garbage.
Many of the “regulars” were out: the senior couple who, in the summer, bring their folding chairs and sit and read; the lady I spoke with last week about her recently deceased cat; a few other of the folks who normally walk their dogs in my area, including one lady who occasionally resents anyone else invading "her and her dogs’ park".
There was also a large group of folks, with several kids, babies and carriages. The aforementioned woman seemed to be getting agitated at their presence. I carried on a discussion with her, basically telling her that I was happy that she walked her dogs in my area, but that those people had the same right to be in the park. I steered her away from going over and confronting them, which she said she wanted to do. She has the typical old-timer Upper West Side "chip" on her shoulder, which I get occasionally: the idea that many of the new residents in our neighborhood look down their noses at us old-timers, as being less well-to-do (we may be), less cultured (not likely) or just less “qualified” to live in this neighborhood anymore.
My philosophy in the Park includes none of this. I am just as happy to welcome folks who have lived in the area for the last six decades as I am to welcome those who have just moved here from where ever. They are all Park Users to me; folks who come out to the Park for a breath of fresh air, to walk their dogs (and hopefully pick up after them), to smoke a cigar or a pipe or some ganja, to enjoy the plants and trees, to just hang in a peaceful place for a while.
I have tried to make my area of the Park a really peaceful, calming place, not just for me, but for everyone who comes by. In speaking with people who come by and spend time, I think in many ways I’ve succeeded, although there is still a lot of work to do. But at the moment, it seems to be a “peaceable kingdom,” where old neighbors and new, dogs and people and babies all seem to be able to get along. Even the squirrels are interactive, although not when a dog comes by.
I hope you can come out sometime, and visit. If you’re in NYC it’s an easy place to find.
Thanks for reading,
Catbird
Yesterday, Saturday November 11, Veteran’s Day, may also have been the first and last day of “Indian Summer.” According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, Indian Summer traditionally begins on St. Martins Day, November 11, and continues for a few days or so; a last respite of warm weather before late fall and winter really settle in.
Yesterday in the park seemed more like an early spring day than a late fall one; lots of folks out, not just dog walkers, in light jackets or shirtsleeves, playing ball or soccer, or frisbee with the dog, or sitting on the benches and reading and talking.
I was out in the late afternoon, rolling up hoses for the season and planting spring bulbs. These were both activities which felt incongruous with the weather, but which had to be done because I know that, inevitably, the cold weather will arrive, the ground will freeze, and I won’t be able to do anything outdoors but rake leaves and pick up garbage.
Many of the “regulars” were out: the senior couple who, in the summer, bring their folding chairs and sit and read; the lady I spoke with last week about her recently deceased cat; a few other of the folks who normally walk their dogs in my area, including one lady who occasionally resents anyone else invading "her and her dogs’ park".
There was also a large group of folks, with several kids, babies and carriages. The aforementioned woman seemed to be getting agitated at their presence. I carried on a discussion with her, basically telling her that I was happy that she walked her dogs in my area, but that those people had the same right to be in the park. I steered her away from going over and confronting them, which she said she wanted to do. She has the typical old-timer Upper West Side "chip" on her shoulder, which I get occasionally: the idea that many of the new residents in our neighborhood look down their noses at us old-timers, as being less well-to-do (we may be), less cultured (not likely) or just less “qualified” to live in this neighborhood anymore.
My philosophy in the Park includes none of this. I am just as happy to welcome folks who have lived in the area for the last six decades as I am to welcome those who have just moved here from where ever. They are all Park Users to me; folks who come out to the Park for a breath of fresh air, to walk their dogs (and hopefully pick up after them), to smoke a cigar or a pipe or some ganja, to enjoy the plants and trees, to just hang in a peaceful place for a while.
I have tried to make my area of the Park a really peaceful, calming place, not just for me, but for everyone who comes by. In speaking with people who come by and spend time, I think in many ways I’ve succeeded, although there is still a lot of work to do. But at the moment, it seems to be a “peaceable kingdom,” where old neighbors and new, dogs and people and babies all seem to be able to get along. Even the squirrels are interactive, although not when a dog comes by.
I hope you can come out sometime, and visit. If you’re in NYC it’s an easy place to find.
Thanks for reading,
Catbird
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