Sunday Memories: Hiding And Then Seeking

I always thought it was called Cache-Cache.   But today the plaque clearly read Hide and Seek.

In the old museum, then just the museum, this painting hung in a small gallery off the beaten track.  A old bench faced it and that's where, when things at home got too searing, I'd go and hide.

Admission must not have been too much, otherwise how could a 12 or 13 or 14 or 15 year old girl afford to visit such a painting so frequently?

I would find that painting and bench and then sit there and wait.  Wait for myself to disappear into the big painting so I could explore each and every one of the millions of little paintings filling every inch of the canvas. I saw my beginning and my ending and in between, I looked for hope in rich colors and secret shapes.

That's not possible now.



The new museum is very fancy, it costs a bunch to get in (unless you have friends in high places) and there are now many escalators and bathrooms and glass balconies that make all the winding galleries flow into one another so that everyone can easily swim upstream to see something else amazing they've only seen in postcards or something completely incomprehensible, whereupon nothing stops them from make loud fun of it before they swim off to another vaulting hall.

This painting isn't in any of those galleries.  It hangs in one of the waiting area outside one of the many bathrooms at the top of one of the numerous escalators.

Like a mural on a subway station wall, it is there to make the passage pretty and when it does get noticed, it's captured into a small screen that could never, ever reveal all its mysteries and the nooks and corners I carefully tucked myself into.

**

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Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving: Happy Endings, Did You Know, And The Love Of Your Life Waiting For You

HAPPY ENDINGS!

PIMM GOT ADOPTED!!!

PIMM, a stunning long haired merle two year old dachshund had been rescued from a hoarding situation by the ASPCA.  Social Tees Rescue came to the rescue and got Pimm a forever home with one of their favorite couples ever! They live near Prospect Park (dog heaven!) and they have another small dog named Bruno.  Pimm and Bruno are BBF already. This is one of those stories where everyone is living happily ever after!

DID YOU KNOW IT'S EASY TO LEND A HAND?

So you can't adopt but you want to help and you want to help but you can't adopt.

NOT TO WORRY!

MURRAY WOULD LOVE A FOSTER OR A FOREVER HOME!

Become a foster parent!!!  That basically means temporary ownership until Social Tees finds the animal a forever home. Cat fosters bring their foster cats to the Social Tees events at the Petco in Union Square on weekends.

If you have a little extra time or space or both, Social Tees has a basic FAQ on their website (socialteesnyc.org), and people can email Social Tees/ Samantha directly if they want to foster or have questions! 

CONTACT

Samantha:
samantha.socialtees@gmail.com


THIS WEEK'S FRIDAY CHILD:

Interested in the next LOVE OF YOUR LIFE???

Meet Mazzie!

She's the white pit being LUUUUVED by her "foster sister" Chicken. 

Mazzie is currently being fostered by a wonderful local guy and his dog.  AND she's up for adoption! 

She's extremely good with dogs, cats, and kids.  One of her eyes is cloudy because she likely got an injury when she was younger, and her previous neglectful owner didn't take care of it properly -- but she can see through it! She was found roaming the streets on the Lower East Side. If people want to meet her, email Social Tees.  

Her foster dad says: "The most notable thing about Mazzie is how sweet she it. She constantly looks for affection and actually purrs when she gets it. She has the perfect balance of energy and is a total wiggle-butt! Not only is she super squishy, she has a big personality that stands out in the crowd. Mazzie is also well behaved and eager to please. She is very, very affectionate; I call her an 'aggressive cuddler' because I rarely wake in the morning in the same position I went to sleep in the night before."

OK, if that doesn't say LUUUUUV OF YOUR LIFE, I don't know what does!
 
How old:  2 years
How big:  50 pounds of luuuuuuuuuv.


CONTACT

Samantha:
samantha.socialtees@gmail.com
 
Social Tees 
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003; 
5-7pm Mon to Fri; 
12-4pm Sat & Sun; 
212-614-9653; 
socialteesnyc.org

If you can't adopt Mazzie today, share the news and spread the love!

***

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It Would Have Been Enough

If the apartment was warm and safe
It would have been enough

If the table had enough food on it
It would have been enough

If healing kept unfolding because help had been given so freely
It would have been enough

If curiosity had never stopped insisting bad days walk into possible tomorrows
It would have been enough

If willingness had stomped forward and illuminated sad, unkempt corners of the soul
It would have been enough

If friends stood for what was possible, had been the living example of secret dreams
It would have been enough

If an inheritance of brilliant dreaming stayed tight to the heart, defying despair and failure
It would have been enough

If Love had just said hello
It would have been enough...

Dayenu.

**
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Spring Cleaning The Spring Cleaners

,

The pipes under the kitchen sink finally splintered into a thousand pieces.

In the excavation, a bottle emerged.  It had either been there when I arrived 37 years ago or had come to stay shortly after.

Obviously, over the ensuing years, it had been inconceivable to throw it out because you never knew when you might needed to emergency polish something.  Instead of running out to some drug store in the middle of the night, this kinda-almost full bottle was always there to fall back on.

But looking at the old bottle, I had to accept that no matter how reluctant I felt throwing out something that still had something in it,  the fact was that any liquid other than booze that was still good after almost four decades under an old sink could not be good for anything that breathed or showed other signs of living.  It, along with some other toxic cleaners which had been hidden from view would be given to a recycling event and hopefully released safely to their final resting place without harming animals, wildlife, vegetation or humans.

However, it did remind me of the couch we grew up with.

Bought in 1961, it was a fold-out sleeper in subtle turquoise and blues displaying extraordinary taste and success.  When things ended for all of us, it moved to my father's divorcé apartment down the street from his former marital home. 

He sat on that couch for quite some time before heading to greener pastures in California.  Charged with emptying out his New York apartment, it was clear to me that couch had no life left in it.  But that did not stop him from arguing that it was a "good couch" and somehow I should take it in and sit on it as he had.  In his world, nothing got thrown out.  Nothing got unused.  Nothing went wasted.

I appreciate my reluctance to discard something even when it was quite past its usefulness or purpose.  It is a trait inherited from two people who had grown up cherishing the privilege of having enough money to buy something.

**
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 We both knew how to live in recognizable surroundings.

But that's not where promises are kept.

Glancing over my shoulder there was the desert, forty years worth.

Then I walked on.


**
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HAPPY ENDINGS!

COOL CAT BOB GOT ADOPTED!!!!! 

Because everyone repost and spread of the love, tons of folks visited him at the Petco adoption happening this past weekend.  His new family swooped him up!  We'll keep you updated! 

DID YOU KNOW?

Long-hair cats get surrendered by their owners more than other cats.  Why?

Because when their hair on their backside doesn't get trimmed or groomed by their owners, they can't clean themselves properly.  Thus, they stop using their litter boxes.  So if you like long-hair cats, be sure to trim or brush their bottoms regularly. 

THIS WEEK'S FRIDAY CHILD:

Interested in the next LOVE OF YOUR LIFE???

Meet Poppie! 

With fur like a bunny and a heart of gold, this shy little Corgi/Chihuahua mix is super quiet and super-duper sweet and snuggles up for affection when you bend down to pet him. 

BONUS!!! He's great with cats and other dogs, 

BUT, all he really needs is a family to cuddle with! 

How old: 6 years old

How big:  20 pounds but needs to lose a few - perfect if you are starting a new exercise program for yourself!

CONTACT:

Social Tees
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003; 
5-7pm Mon to Fri; 
12-4pm Sat & Sun; 
212-614-9653; 
socialteesnyc.org

If you can't adopt him today, share the news and spread the love!

***
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One Year's Meat Is Another Year's Poison. Or Piggybank.

Seymour smoked.  Florence smoked.  In those days it was like drinking coffee or putting ketchup on your burger.

When they got married in 1947 or 48, someone gave them a bubble-glass ashtray for a wedding present.

It did its job like the rest of the stuff in the house. 

But then smoking got definitely bad for you, not just kinda a lousy habit, but really really bad.

Florence offered me and Louise $100 or maybe it was more if we didn't smoke until we were old.  Like twenty-one.  Louise made her pay up.

The rest of us quit here and there.  And then finally.

So the ashtray, along with all the other accoutrements of lighting up, had to find a new job.

**

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Gratitude Never Comes Out In The Wash

Some people think fancy cars are the sign of arriving.  Or the right house in the right neighborhood.   The purse that costs as much as a semester at City College.  How about that watch the guy on the  IRT #5 kept talking about LOUDLY, which is how I found out it cost the same as two months of my health insurance...

My favorite watch is the self-winding Timex my dad got for a dollar at a yard sale and the over-size purse I use most these days was $5.99 at a thrift store.  Only later did I find out it was a diaper bag for a hipster-type mom.  And the home I have rented for almost forty years didn't start out in the "right neighborhood" (although how "right" it is now is seriously up for debate). 

What I dream of or wish I had more money for comes and goes - sometimes it's the desire for a weekly massage and sometimes it's the millions  of bucks that could stop the slaughter of elephants while micro-financing thousands of women's new businesses.

But, until those flush days come, what lets me know I've arrived is the thrill of living in a city that has power and water and lets me turn dials and press buttons so I can do laundry in the middle of the night wearing not much beyond my hopes and my pajamas.

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Sunday Memories: Food On The Run

Florence and I weren't typically close.  We were magnets that either repelled or slapped together at such high speed we were never sure how it would turn out.

So, until she crumpled into an illness we didn't understand and couldn't defy, we didn't talk every day like some mothers and daughters.

However, when we did occasionally check in on the phone or the rare times she'd actually come upstairs after calling from the payphone on the corner, the conversation would meander about until it landed where it always did.

"What did you do today?" I'd ask.

"Ate my way up and down Sixth Avenue," she'd answer.

And then she'd regale me with each and every stop made at each and every fast food place she had seen advertised on TV.  Those commercials she watched at home alone with the television brought in after we had all left to our own lives were as powerful as the stories Dorothy heard about Oz

Striding up and down streets and avenues seeking the next promise of the wizard, she'd barely ever stop and sit.

I, of course, adored food, went to restaurants, sat down, and then emailed friends about what I just ate.

Yet, interwoven in between my rebellion against eating on the run, I often found myself  striding up streets, relishing something in my hand that cost less that a couple of bucks, and just this past night, as I sailed fast across familiar waters, I sat briefly on old benches I had known since I was a kid, dining on something that could have come from Oz. 

**
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Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving: Cool Cat Bob, The Angora!

Her New York is teaming up with Social Tees Animal Rescue!

Every Friday features a wonderful Friday Child that is waiting 

to join someone's family and make their house a home.

Rumor has it that Cool Cat Bob, the Angora inspired the line "Cool Cat looking for a kitty, gonna look in every corner of the city...." 

With his super fluffy silky medium length coat of fur, six-year old Bob is so calm and cool, it's why you can't see his spectacular yellow eyes.  

Social Tees
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003; 
5-7pm Mon to Fri; 
12-4pm Sat & Sun; 
212-614-9653; 
socialteesnyc.org

If you can't adopt him today, he'll be hanging loose and cool at Petco / Union Square Saturday 12-4pm.

***
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When The Wall Welcomed The Woman

The massive change that swept through the house took with it the many things on this room's walls.  A need to start over with empty space so that thoughts could have no boundaries kept those walls bare for years.

At some point, the gift of a Bodhi leaf got hung near the alter.  It was hung even higher after the cat decided it was a toy to knock down.  But the rest of the room stayed open and clear of anything except one's imagination.

Then one day, during a visit with Jutta, the Mariner and I saw this new work and fell in love. 

Jutta didn't want to take money for it because she loves us and doesn't do art for money. But we had to buy it because we love her and art and no one who can do art this good should do it for free.

And the minute it was hung, it was as if it had always been home.

With thanks to the Mariner for the first draft.

**
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**

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:  

COMING SOON FRIDAY'S CHILD (LOVING AND GIVING) 

Her New York is teaming up with Social Tee's Animal Rescue and every Friday will feature a wonderful Friday Child that is waiting to join someone's family and make their house a home.

Stay tuned!

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Encore: Perfect Timing

There's a lot of waiting when it comes to writing and sometimes it can feel like full out avoidance.  However, after a TV-watching-marathon of British women going into labor and giving birth to babies, perfect timing seemed to be more about allowing life to emerge on its own terms, rather than planning and making a schedule.  

Sure, there's lots you can do to help, like bouncing on a ball or screaming or eating chocolate pudding -  all strategies that work for both birthing and writing.  But, mostly you gotta bow to the forces that be, because they're just going to do what they need to do.

So, while allowing words to emerge, an encore about what Perfect Timing sometimes looks like.

Originally posted Tuesday, December 27, 2011

PERFECT TIMING

Right before it all happened

The frame was too high on Dana's new bed. Getting up was like rock climbing and getting down was the Giant Salom but without the snow.

So we ordered a new one, thinking it would arrive in a couple of days.

But then the new computer system didn't work. So the frame arrived a week later.

We thought oh so we'll come down on that day.

But then Dana asked we come the next day.

I promised we'd be there at such and such a time, but of course we got there almost an hour later.

Then the Mariner couldn't get the frame to line up and I didn't help by insisting that one side was longer than the other when in fact it was just angled more like a trapezoid and he was trying to re-angle it in between me whipping out a 12 inch ruler once used in PS 110 by Dana's son to prove that in fact that side of the bed frame was longer.

Finally the bed fit perfectly and Dana could sit down on it without any athletic training.

She insisted we stay for lunch and have tea and kaiser rolls, herring and lox, cream cheese and butter, and lots and lots of rugelach. The apple pie we passed on.

There was no way we could use the frame that was too high. It was pointless to keep it. But it was a really good frame and no one wanted to throw it out. So the Mariner taped up and stuck a piece of paper on it that said "free bed frame! new!"

Before we headed down to the communal recycling room, Polly the cat needed love. "I want a picture of that!" Dana said. So the Mariner rummaged through my crowded bag of screwdrivers and shopping bags, found the camera case, pulled out the camera and took a picture. The second after he clicked the shutter, Polly had enough love and jumped down.

I forgot the right elevator was the shabbos elevator, stopping on every floor from 1 to 20. So we got off on the 14th floor and waited for the not-for-shabbos left elevator. The numbers let us know whoever had gotten on at the 12th floor was being detoured up to us.

We stepped in with our almost brand new but too high bed frame and there was an almost coordinated, neatly dressed, middle aged couple, laundry stuff in hands, annoyed their trip down had been interrupted with a brief trip up.

Until they saw the frame.

"Are you giving it away?" they both asked.

"Yes! Do you want it?" asked the Mariner.

"Yes! We need one!" and without much ado, he handed the couple the barely used, month old, too high bed frame.

**
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***

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:  

COMING SOON FRIDAY'S CHILD (LOVING AND GIVING) 

Her New York is teaming up with Social Tee's Animal Rescue and every Friday will feature a wonderful Friday Child that is waiting to join someone's family and make their house a home.

Stay tuned!

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Sunday Memories: In The Garden Of Eden There Are Stars Up Above

As a little girl, I never looked up at the stars because there weren't any there.  They only existed in children's books.  I didn't even know what a constellation was, that complex relationships between each star, until I was a teenager at a music program in the middle of what felt like a primeval forest.  The meeting didn't go well, especially after I was told all those stars were already dead and we were just getting the news through twinkles thousands of light years old.

But a constellation of little moments and brief memories suddenly splayed against a busy life. 

The little baby girl toddling fiercely down Second Avenue, proud parents dressed smartly in Expensive Bohemian, beaming proudly and me grinning at the baby, but realizing they wouldn't know what it would be like to have every single person on the street know that baby's business until it was in its fifties.

And that made me think of Gary, who when he was little living in the tough housing projects on the other side of the Williamsburg Bridge, would look into the Courtyard and think, "Oh this must be the Garden of Eden."  After his family moved in, there was nothing he or B. or any of the other siblings could do without his parents hearing about it.  Even after he moved to the East Village, even after he moved back to Grand Street, even after that time in Israel, even after... Everybody knew everything.

Even living in his own apartment in a different building than his family on Grand Street his mother called one day, recounting the several people who asked why he had come home so late the night before.

Watching that baby, I remembered the last time  me and Gary spoke, bumping into each other on Second Avenue.  He was going to attempt to fit into the world he had been born into but had never quite felt at home in.  He died before it could happen.

There had to be a picture of the Courtyard, I thought, the place where nothing we did went unnoticed.  I remembered there was one of me an almost teenager, but the only one I could find was me in the little skirt I loved so much and wore so proudly.  It, like almost everything else we wore, was a hand-me-down and I remembered the day I understood things were changing because it wasn't fitting the same anymore.  But like so much of those years, I didn't know who to tell and so that moment like so many went unspoken and into a quiet reservoir of silence.

And that made me think of an old friend, recently back in touch, telling me about the moment he claimed the clothes he always knew he was born to wear, not the dresses forced upon him because everyone saw him as a  girl. 

And that made me remember, remember so much of how me or Gary or this old friend were seen and yet unseen, witnessed and yet not known.

Maybe that fierce baby girl would never know what it was like to have billions of eyes on her life, but maybe her parents would always see who she was.

**
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The Manhattan Bridge.

Peering over the railing we could see the Brooklyn one down the river.  That one was like the prettiest cheerleader who was sure to be chosen as Homecoming Queen. 
 

But the Manhattan Bridge was definitely the poet or the artist or the trombone player in the band, the one who didn't look like she had stepped out of a teen magazine.

No. The Manhattan Bridge was the bridge that would, while pretty stayed pretty and got lots of attention, go far and do great things.

 **
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An glimpse into Jutta's life which she paints with fire and with soul.

When we leave, I ask myself again.   You, you with all your dreams and passions.  Did you do enough today?

**
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How did Florence and Seymour know soda was so bad for you? 

Somehow they did and that meant that beyond the once-a-week-at-Gramma's, it just wasn't allowed.  Drinking soda was something I watched in other people's worlds or on TV. 

On our rare trips to Katz for a hotdog, Dr. Brown's Cream Sodas were even rarer. So, a lot of time was spent at Katz's water fountain, all the way in the back along the wall, across from the ladies room.  

That magic lever was the closest I'd get to a fountain soda for years.  I gulped glass after glass of water that was crisp and clear and delicious.   Not like the cloudy, luke-warm tap water we had at home.

Just the other night, one of our rare trips to Katz, but this time for a shared brisket sandwich, I had a Dr. Brown's Cream Soda.  After all, I was an adult and I could have anything I wanted.  But, half way into the meal, I was back at the best water fountain in the world.  It was delicious.

**
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