My Time Of Day....

Florence's favorite song from "Guys and Dolls" was My Time Of Day.

And rather than sing Louise to sleep with "Rock-A-bye-Baby" this song became her lullaby.

My time of day is the dark time
A couple of deals before dawn
When the street belongs to the cop
And the janitor with the mop
And the grocery clerks are all gone.

When the smell of the rainwashed pavement
Comes up clean, and fresh, and cold
And the streetlamp light
Fills the gutter with gold

That's my time of day
My time of day

And you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me

 

 

On A Clear Day Her New York Marches To Save Forever

The March was Sunday.  The Climate Change Summit is today.  Revolution is always.

An unending sea of people kept pouring onto the 8thAvenue IND platform.

And every train pulling into the station was already crammed full of other seas of other people from other places. 

We were fed up and we were not going to take it any more.

Children on mothers' shoulders and ...

... fathers on crutches.

And these environmental scientists who had flown over other seas to be here.

The sky filled with steel birds.

And silk ones...

and a few real ones, usually considered pests, but today reminding us to speak for them and their brethren.

So we did.

Obviously a very pissed off New Yorker.

It was all very powerful and all very exciting.

To be together.

To fight together.

To stand as one.

And in a moment called for silence, to raise our hands in protest.

And then to raise our voices in rage and defiance.

and pray in protest.

It was all very powerful and all very exciting.  And very, very loud.  Except, of course, those praying in protest.

But revolution always start with a single and determined step, and sometimes it is taken alone. 

She must have been in her eighties.

She was by herself.

It took her almost 10 minutes to climb the stairs out of the subway, the sea of people pouring around her, but she didn't stop.

She would take a step, then rested, then another, then rested, then...

When she got to the top of the stairs, she pushed aside the barricades set up to keep us orderly and crossed the street to the front of the march.

It was Her New York.

And she was marching to make sure it stayed that way.

**
Related Posts:

The March

Desperately Seeking Her New York - An Encore

How Fragile We Are, How Fragile We Are

**
Birds' picture: Ted Krever

Sunday Memories: Yearning For The Sea

Wandering on little walking paths around ancient bungalows and sandy beaches, I wondered what Florence had felt, a young woman on her honeymoon.

Here she was, in a place as different from Bushwick or Knickerbocker Village as the moon was from the earth.  Married to a person as different from her secret lover as the ocean was to a desert. 

How miserable she must have been, loving someone, but like this mermaid, far from where she belonged.  

**
Related Posts:

Special Encore For A Special Pride Day

Sunday Memories: On The Road

Sunday Memories: How I Learned About Love At Gramma's

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And So Beautiful Your Heart Melts Into Your Socks

 GOTTA DANCE TO ANOTHER
SUCCESS STORY!!!

Once upon a time this way-too-cool cat was adopted two years ago as a tiny kitten named Jaws because he had a funny shaped lower lip. 

Now he's Yango, as gorgeous as can be (his lip is still a little funny, but you can't tell from this picture), and he has a very adorable doggy best friend. 

His mom says: "Yango has grown from being a cute little confused but curious kitten to a handsome, unusually long and very intelligent cat, whose favorite activities include annoying his canine brother Spuddy (mostly by making him jealous with his cuteness), meowing, stretching out, lying on top of everything (including Macbooks, phones, and humans), kneading, sticking his butt on things, and making us laugh. 

He has been such a loving addition to our family, and he really deserves to be called the 'best cat ever.' He amazes us with his character and actions everyday, and we have all learned a lot from being with him. 

My significant other is a dancer, and he even often seeks inspiration from Yango's movements! Yango is also a bit of an artist, as he likes to paw at markers and pencils when we draw, and by doing this he once sketched out his own scribble that actually looked pretty good (definitely MoMa-worthy). We are forever grateful to have found each other!"

IF YOU ADOPT THIS GIRL, 

CHRISTMAS WILL COME EARLY

This adorable fluffster is Princess, a seven-year old blind Shih Tzu mix, only 9 pounds. 

She is yet another one of those very poorly cared for animals whose magical, ever trusting spirit burns bright. 

Princess is very low key and a little slow moving, friendly with everyone and loves affection. Just needs a little guidance during walks. 

Her foster mom says: "This pretty girl is super sweet! She’s friendly with everyone she meets, despite not being able to see them. She’s very mellow and quiet. She’s good with other dogs and ignores cats. 

She is comfortable around the house, and knows to do her business outside. We have started taking walks on a leash, and although she is slow now, I expect her to get more comfortable with time and consistency. She can be fearful of new situations, but never barks or complains. Even though she needs some extra guidance, it has been so rewarding watching her blossom!”

A POCKET FULL OF PUPPIES!!!

These three amigos and their friends need foster homes ASAP!! 

They are chihuahua pups, 9 weeks old and super sweet and adorable! Fostering will last about 2 weeks.   Please email if you can help out!!!

Dimitra@socialteesnyc.org

 There's a reason Friday's Child

is now a part of Her New York

if only to say thank you.

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!!

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

 Social Tees 
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003  
socialteesnyc.org 
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue

And Just Around The OTHER Corner....

It was time to say goodbye to a place that looked nothing like New York, not even Coney, but which felt like home and history in little, odd ways.

One last walk on the beach, we said. 

Of course, the last day was sunny and hot and perfect for swimming and all our stuff was packed up in the car trunk.

The walk took the time it took.  And besides, there were little bungalows with "For Rent" signs we had to investigate.  Still, at some point we knew we had to head home.

Not sure why neither of us heard the phone ring, but the Mariner's mother was trying to reach him.   Then the signal died, then we had to drive a little bit away from the beach then I got a signal on my phone then we called her back then Ted pulled over so he could talk and not drive at the same time and ... it was nothing... just making plans...

In the middle of all that, the man whose house we stopped in front of came out.

"Anything wrong?" which in New York meant "GET THE FUCK OFF MY...."

"Sorry, sorry, just had to call his mother back."

"Ok! Just checking...." which, if he was speaking New York meant, "Ok Just making sure you know you have to GET THE FUCK OFF..."

But, it didn't feel like he was speaking anything except, "OK.  Just checking..."

The gift of blarney inherited from Florence could not be stopped.

"You have a beautiful neighborhood...." and before you know it...

Mr. Chris was inviting us to check out all the seriously cool repairs he was doing to his rental property which was deceptively big inside and filled with wonderful things that had their own stories....

...and it reminded me how so often all of us living in that old, cranky building would drag one another through "show&tell", pointing out the clever solution to a weird corner or a constant leak, or what treasure had been found on the street, down the hallway, from a friend and maybe even bought in a store. 

But it was even more than that. 

Mr. Chris, not knowing us from Adam, had invited us in just like each one of us had invited in strangers, sometimes stranded in New York, or a friend of a friend of a... or, having just survived a mugging which took her keys, needed a place to rest until her roommates woke up or....

Just because the Mariner's mom called
Just because that little patch of land had terrible cell phone connection
Just because I got a signal and could get through
Just because that was the corner nearest to pull over to...
Just because...

We got welcomed into a stranger's home, got to see all the clever solutions to a weird corner or a constant leak, learned how something so beautiful and rare came to sit on that table, how that table got here, and then all the wonderful stories of his relatives in Brooklyn, especially the one who became a real estate emperor from just one little hotdog pushcart, and the wife with the gold tooth and the finished basement with the full bar and....

...sometimes the world is just one big moment of perfect timing. 

**
Related Posts:

And Just Around The Corner Was Her New York

Perfect Timing

Sunday Memories: The Door

Sunday Memories: Schneller And Her Boys

Sunday Memories: The Domino Effect

Tribes: Lost And Found

And Just Around The CornerWas Her New York

As a friend exclaimed when I told her we were going on vacation, it must be 'tru luv' if I was willing to leave the city.

But leave we did, the Mariner happily behind the wheel of a car off to the land where Florence and Seymour may have visited on one of their long bike rides in early times of hope and love.

Rare days and sweet adventures were found on the wilds of empty beaches, sea-faring ducks and chipmunks that were cuter than any cartoon from the 1960s.

Yet,  in a restaurant at the furthest tip of land, sitting right next to us was another story of New York, immediately recognized in soft vowels that could have only been inherited from a familiar diaspora.

Born in Doctor's Hospital up on York Avenue in the 80's. Parents raised in New York to immigrants that came from the same places my grandparent had fled.  Grew up somewhere in Long Island, and then like so many, fled to the other coast that looked nothing like where he came from. 

However, the real story wasn't told in school records, house deeds, marriage certificates, or vacation plans.

When he was a teenage boy, like a lot of teenage boys, he was kinda interested in boxing.

Oh yeah? said his mom.  You know, your real grandfather was a boxer.  No, not the guy married to Grandma.  Your real one.   The Young Willie Jackson, a formidable boxer of his day.

His grandmother had divorced Willie.  While pregnant.  That was such a daring and outrageous thing for a woman to do in those days, she was called "infamous' in the papers.  But she did, and she married someone else who raised his mom and who he called Grandpa.

That didn't stop him from rushing down the very next day to the New York State Boxing Commission and talk his way into the Commissioner's office.  His grandfather's life came alive in clippings and stories and a rare photo.  It was a piece of home, as recognizable to him as his accent had been to me.

Each of us live with family secrets revealed and others suspected.  Some of us write stories.  Others take pictures. 

Young Willie Jackson's grandson gave himself a portrait.  A tattoo by his heart of his grandfather standing proud, fists posed and ready to go.

**
Related Posts:
 
And Just Around The OTHER Corner

Driving, New York Style

The Exhaustion Of Diaspora: Part Six - Home Where My Love Lies Waiting

Sunday Memories: Tribes, Lost And Found

Last of the Landsman At The Pass

Sunday Memories: On The Road

Letters At The Speed Of Light

Young Willie Jackson

It Was Our New York

While Making Sunday MemoriesRemember The First Ones

It dawned on me I hadn't been on vacation in almost 10 years.  

The decade had been filled with other kinds of trips that had little to do with floating a bit on new breezes.  It was time.

Waking up without pressures may have been a goal most desired, but as Florence once pointed out, when reaching for nirvana, you have to train for it.

So while learning how to experience time a little bit differently than the past ten year, a memory of the first vacations taken.

Originally posted Saturday, July 5, 2008

***

Florence, Atlantic City, 196something

There was no guarantee we'd ever go away.

Vacations were for other people. And summer was a stand-off between our need to have something to do during the day and their need to not have to think about it. Everything really worked much better when we were at school, he was at work and she was at the piano.

Time stops for no man and neither did the seasons. Summer came. Repeatedly.

I am not sure what started it, how long it lasted and when it ended but Atlantic City became our Riviera for a couple of years. And with the recent purchase of a car needed to get my father to his job out on Long Island, it was accessible.

A giddiness would fill me at the exotic motel we stayed in with an ice machine nearby and a real swimming pool that was small enough paddle across, not like the huge ocean of Pitt Street Pool.

The four of us in one room, two beds, no memory of how my sister and I negotiated sudden close space.

I just remember all the old boarding houses and cheap motels pushing the boardwalk into the sea and the salt-water taffy stands, magic peelers that made radishes into flowers, and unspoken fear and desire holding me back from swimming to China.

**
Related Posts:

Sunday Memories: Disciples of Soul

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving To You Like Loving And Giving Is Supposed To Be

HAPPY HOMECOMING ANNIVERSARY!!!!

Social Tees called her JoJo.  She was thin and tiny and tired and did a lot of sleeping in their window.  She was under a year, had been thrown out into the backyard of a building on 4th Street and when Animal Control picked her up, they wrote on her paperwork 'very friendly'.  

We renamed her Goldie.  

Her first month with us was bumpy, what with her so sick from shots.  We had to bring her to the food and the litter box. Still, she had the sassiest walk as she learned the lay of the land. But, even as she got better and would rush to greet us, any sudden move would send her cringing into safety.  

It's been a year filled with many cans of food and fierce brushings and lots of yarn throwing.  Goldie now runs to the window when she hears the neighborhood bluejay squawk in the morning, or the sirens at night.   She has her little corners to take her naps, snug and safe and sound.  

And just this morning, we woke up to find her curled up into safety between our feet.

Thank you, Social Tees.  Our hearts are bigger, our souls kinder and our home filled with love. 

You Too Can Live in the Land of Love

Fido's foster mom had to go out of town and Social Tees do not want to put this boy in a cage. 

He is about 8 years old and around 60 lbs. He's s very playful and spunky for a mature dog and makes an awesome jogging companion (he helped his former foster mom go from a 10 minute mile to a 7 minute mile!). 

But he is also super chill indoors and just wants to lie around and sleep and cuddle with you. He could use a little leash work because he pulls a bit, and he needs a little help learning how to properly socialize with other pups he meets on the street, but he's a fast learner and will be a wonderful, loyal companion to a big dog lover who can give him the attention he deserves. 

Please, please help this boy!!!  Fostering lasts 2 to 4 weeks.  Or even for the rest of your life!

Email samantha@socialteesnyc.org

Why, you might ask, does a blog that explores New York's disappearing landscape, family and home, write about cats and dogs up for adoption?

Why indeed. 
Meet Jupiter.
  

Click here to find out.

Meanwhile, at Social Tees 

 cats and dogs, 

kittens and puppies 

are just waiting to show you 
what real love is all about

Just like one kitten did to me not so long ago.


Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue 

Preparing For Peace One Test At A Time

When this first got built, cigarettes and asbestos were A-O.K.

A lot has changed since 1952.  

So, everything got shut down and ripped up and replaced and upgraded and inputted...

Even weddings have rehearsals.

On a Friday night, folks from every department, from the bottom to the top and the top to the bottom,  forewent that movie or their friends hanging out at the bar, and instead pressed buttons and checked mics.

And made sure that when, in a few weeks, the world gathers once again and attempts to fill those sweeping walls and arched ceiling with some hope for peace, everything works.

**
Related Posts:

The Poetry Of Peace In Motion

Walking The (Pretty) Walk

Ok, like I've lived as their neighbor for almost 40 years.  She's a New Yorker, 125th Street all the way. He's from the midwest but really cool.

I never walked anywhere with them.  (Unless you count going to the mailbox or up and down stairs to have dinner, try on clothes, and exchange shoes.)

Except for the couple of months when I needed a knee operation and could only hobble a few feet at a time, the Mariner and I walk everywhere.

Our first date was five hours of walking.  Our second date was 12 hours of walking.  Our third date was 11 hours of walking…OK Ok, so there was eating and drinking and occasional make-out sessions, but mostly walking.

And, no matter where we were going, I would always say, "Let's go the pretty way" and I would weave us in and out of quieter streets and small empty parks and nice avenues.

Just the other day, we all decided to go on a rare adventure together.  It occurred to me, as we left the building, that we had never all walked down a street together.

"Let's go the pretty way," she said, and she wove us all in and out of quieter streets and small empty parks and nice avenues.

**
Related Posts:

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Migratory Patterns

His Ten Year Love Affair With A Keyboard

The Look Of Love Because This Is What It Looks Like

Sunday Memories:  The Iceman Cometh

Sunday Memories: New York City

I wondered what the pigeon was remembering.

I was remembering brick like that, like home, Grand Street, the faces of women who never appeared without lipstick or stockings, unless they were at the laundry mat on a Tuesday morning, running four machines at once - colors, whites, linens, socks - and then they wore audacious curlers and important house dresses bought on sale from Klein's or Alexanders.

It was nice to see home.


**
Related Posts:

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Sunday Memories: Grand Street - Aladdin's Cave

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

Friday's Child Is Loving And GivingAnd Destined For Success

SUCCESS!!!!

TRUE LOVE TRUE LOVE!!!

Abbey and her mama are just indescribably cute together. 

Social Tees rescued this young beagle mix from a family trying to give her up her via Craigslist a few months ago (NOT a good idea), and the lovely couple that fostered her fell in love pretty much right away and decided that Abbey had to be theirs. 

Her mom says: "Thank you again for bringing us together with Abbey! She is the absolute best addition to our family and we love her more than words can say! She is really doing great. She actually has started training to become a therapy dog!! She passed obedience 1 with flying colors and is in a 5 week program through The Good Dog Foundation so by early October she will be a therapy dog! She is so great with kids especially and brings such a smile to so many people's faces we figured it would be quite selfish to only be able to enjoy all the love she has to give! She truly is such a special girl!"

 YOU TOO CAN FIND 

SUCCESS AND TRUE LOVE 

IN ONE PACKAGE!!!!

Freyja is a totally stunning German Shepherd/Lab mix, 

She is 9 months old, 55 lbs. 

SOOOOOOOO warm and friendly, just a big kid of a dog eager to love and play with everyone she meets. 

She is great with other dogs and friendly with all people. She loves to run and frolic around with other pooches and would do best in a home with a yard and maybe another dog that could be her BFF. 

Freyja is very reward driven and learns super quickly. She's eager to please! 

FOSTERING STARTS ASAP and lasts 2 to 4 weeks; email samantha.socialtees@gmail.com asap if you can help!!!!

SUCCESS 

BY ANY OTHER NAME 

IS A CAT!!!!

 

 Cali Girl spends her weekends sipping cat-puccinos, browsing the arts section of the paper hoping for a CATS revival, and dreaming of forever home with big windows past which lots and lots of pigeons flutter. 

Could you be her soul mate? 

This gorgeous, elegant kitty is amazingly affectionate and will meow when you get close to make sure you pay her the attention she deserves. She loves cuddling and petting sessions, and she's good with other animals.

 Eager to meet her? Stop by! 325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10009; 5-7pm

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!!

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

 Social Tees 
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003  
socialteesnyc.org 
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue

That Moment

Who knows what they were talking about. 

It probably was about books and publishing and money and owning your own work. 

Whatever it was, it wasn't baseball. 

And perhaps it didn't matter.  Even in a Hopper painting, it helps having company.

**
Related Posts:

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The Rear Window To Hope

Stranger In A Strange Land

Nighthawks

A Labor Of Love

It used to be on Labor Day I'd wash all the windows.  Or scrub the house down.  Three-day weekends were, more often than not, spent alone and nothing says "I don't care, I'm fine" like Windex.

I had a very neat house for no one to visit.  It was all very artist-like, my lament of loneliness.

This Labor Day, the Mariner working, I couldn't have cared less about how clean the windows should be.  There was no loneliness in the house, not with electronic messages going back and forth with the Mariner at work and certainly not with two cats insisting on the many things that comprised the lifestyle they had come to expect.

A perfect time to pull out more files of letters, spanning four decades and one city with a brief visit to China in between. 

You get to know the nature of your nature, someone once said to me.  She was encouraging me to see what I was doing to, how I was building my life.  I didn't at the time.  All I saw was the world saying no to my own wishes and desires.  That heartbreak always looked good in the movies, so why not?

Opening stuffed folders and old envelopes, in between delightful scrawls on lovely stationary from friends traveling the world (like Delaware), were these notes.  No matter what decade it was or the circumstances I had shared with them, a handwritten page here, a typed letter there, acknowledging I didn't want to talk to them but if I changed my mind, would I....

And then an email, neatly printed out and carefully filed as one did in those early days of computer post, from a friend saying how hard it was to hear I had never felt loved when our many years of friendship clearly proved otherwise.

All those years in words here and there, letters kept and never answered, offers spurned...the nature of my nature.

One apology has already been sent, another being drafted in regrets and thoughts.  No pretty paper needed, just a quick search on Facebook, the white pages of the 21st century, and three more boxes to sort out.

The note sent, and the futures ones to follow all carry the same message:

I'm sorry, I was an idiot and thank you for the love.
Sincerely,
 

**
Related Posts:

 Failing Into Success

 Letters At The Speed Of Light

Summer Reruns: Sunday Memories Of Letters From The Deep

A Poem Becomes Her

Sunday Memories: Forgetting The Past

Sunday Memories: On The Cusp Of Marilyn

Sunday Memories: When Love Was Free

It was her friend's for a long time.

Then it was her's.  For a long, long time.

Then one night, a long, long, long time ago, she left it downstairs in the lobby where Christmas was celebrated and neighbors traded books, bowls and file cabinets.

Who knows why the little sofa was perched so politely by the mantle?   Maybe kids' allergies, setting free unneeded furniture, a need to shake out some space in an apartment lived in for decades.

The little note said, "Free Love (Seat)".

The end of the 1970's had confirmed a couple of sad truths: hair really did not look good that way;  disco was not completely dead, just the good songs; and there was no such thing as free love.

But, here, like a fairy-tale ending tailored to real life, there could be a seat of love that cost nothing.

How could one resist?

**
Related Posts:

Sunday Memories: It's A Wonderful Lobby

Flying Time

Sunday Memories: Even the Cat Was Found On The Street

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Old And Wise And Has Got It Together!

SOCIAL TEES SUCCESS STORY!!!!!!

IT'S SKIPPY!!!!

Skippy -- this really, really smiley little gentleman here -- was adopted a few weeks ago.

Social Tees fell for him as soon as he arrived, as he looked like a cuddly cross between a wombat and a wolverine. Not long after he was rescued from the kill shelter, a super damn cool family spotted him on Instagram and became obsessed.... and the rest is history.

His new mom says: "Adopting an adult dog was the best idea I've had in a while. He fits right into our schedule and the personality of our home. We only adopted him a few weeks ago yet I feel like he has been here forever.

I have two boys (11 and 14 yrs.) and there are tons of boys in and out all day long. Skippy is there to greet everyone and rolls over for his belly to be rubbed the minute you give him some attention.  Skippy is a true "boy" dog in every sense of the word....If you toss him the ball he will leap in the air and catch it in his mouth. All the boys are so impressed and fight over who is going to throw the ball next!

The other night me and my two sons walked up to the avenue to the store and they took turns walking Skippy. No fighting.... just mellow and happy. It warmed my heart and I am so glad this all turned out the way it did. Keep doing what you're doing! I am a big believer in the universe....random acts of kindness....karma....and what a blessing we've all received!"

WANT SOME GOOD KARMA?????

TWO SENIORS NEED HOMES!!!

These two tiny seniors (under 13lbs) from the kill shelter, but need foster homes ASAP! 

They are super sweet, good with dogs/cats and fostering will last about 2-4 weeks. Please email us if you can help!! They are so sweet and deserve a new shot at life! 

email: Dimitra@socialteesnyc.org

SOCIAL TEES NEEDS FURNITURE!

One of Social Tees' dearest volunteers has offered 2 rooms in her basement to use as a temporary safe haven for sick and injured animals.  It's a bit empty!  Now all they need is some decent furniture for their volunteers that will be taking shifts caring for those sick and injured animals! 

If you or someone you know has some decent furniture that they do not need any longer, please email Social Tees!! 

dimitra@socialteesnyc.org

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!!

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

 Social Tees 
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003  
socialteesnyc.org 
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue 

The Rear Window To Hope

My favorite light.

Not sunrises (too early).

Not sunsets (you got to be on the right block or high up).

Occasionally the moon (but you needed to hold someone's hand to make it more beautiful than sad, and that hand wasn't always there).

No.  It was when evening fell and yellow glow from home windows sang hope to me.

Whether after an F train ride down from Macy's, walking along the windows of East Broadway's nicer apartments wishing I could float into one and be safer than I was in the light I lived in...

...or the many years traveling alone by foot on night streets, peering up into the dark for a story of some happy room I might one day step into…

That light was hope.

This night, leaving a home I loved as intimately as one loves family, the Mariner and I looked up and saw in the dark of evening, yellow glow from home windows singing hope.

Only this time, there was no wishing or peering into other people's stories.  Waiting for us in other windows was a happy room offering that safer light.

So we took some pictures of the past, and talked about better cameras than phone ones.

Then we strolled into the dark towards home.

**
Related Posts:

Sunday Memories: Part Six: A View From A Kitchen

Sunday Memories: Of Light And Night

You Got Your North Star, I Got Mine

The Walk To Hope

What Really Happened In Rear Window

Sunday Memories: Moving Day