Couch With A View

Many frames meet the eye from an immobilized perch on the couch. 

* Anti-Vietnam war poster left behind by roommates in the 1980s. 

* A Miro poster found on the street. 

* The cousin's exhibition poster smuggled out of the Soviet Union before glasnost.

* A computer offering a window to the outside world. 

* Channel Thirteen promising me that some of the things I found on the street might in fact be American treasures worth a couple of years in a nice nursing home.

It helps the time pass in between pain medication and plans to skip down the street like the bad mix of a baby goat and a little boy.

**
Related Posts:

Sometimes You Can Go Home Again

Sunday Memories:  You Say You Want A Revolution...

When Does A House Become A Home?*

Sunday Memories: Beneath Your Surface

Blog With A View

Sunday Memories Encore: The Ice Man Cometh

Sunday Memories Encore: The Ice Man Cometh

Originally posted April 8, 2012, ice, once again, is called for as the other knee heals.

Florence's ice trays circa 1960-something

It's quite hard to find ice trays like these anymore.

I had already broken the plastic ones I had. So when the new tenants moved into Florence's new refrigerator and kitchen, I moved these out.

Of all the smattering of items I took from Florence's, these hid unexpected memories.

With so few treats allowed except on Friday nights, ice was as treasured as candy. And with the suspicion of doctors and the fear of hospitals, it was also as important as aspirin.

With such promises of refreshment and restoration, those trays were not to be trifled with.

The trays' handle would be pulled back like a slingshot and if all went well, the ice would crackle and break into cubes. This never happened. Tap water and a couple to many bangs of the tray on the stove loosened the frozen water enough to be enjoyed like ice cream during the summer or placed in a bowl of soup too hot to eat.

If the trays were being deployed for medical emergencies, such as a broken arm or spinal meningitis, the ice bag, the kind you'd see in comic strips like Andy Capp, would be brought out with full and firm belief that once filled from the trays, all maladies would vanish. On the rare occasions they didn't, a surrender would be hurriedly made in a taxi rushing to the emergency room, usually right before it was too late.

Now, refrigerators make ice and preemptive doctor visits make more sense.

And ice bags, needed for healing body parts, come so equipped, they make my old ice trays look like pencil and paper compared to a NASA computer.

The cat thinks the machine is the vacuum cleaner's baby, and thus the spawn of the devil. It is ravenous for ice, which has the Mariner running so frequently to the bodega for ice at all hours of the day and night, that the minute he rushes in the guys automatically ring up two bags of already made, perfectly cubed ice.

Memories may be made from time spent healing, but none will be found in cubes of such perfection. So when this is all over, those trays will be filled again with stories from Her New York.

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Needs A Hero , a Heroine or Three

There's a reason Friday's Child is now 
a part of Her New York, 
if only to say thank you.

Social Tees is calling all Heros and Heroines to help them rescue 25 puppies and dogs from a high-kill center in Tennessee.  They hope to bring these delicious ones to NYC this Saturday.

However, they can't pull this off unless there's a foster home for each puppy and dog.  So, if you can foster or you're ready to adopt,  email Dimitra.socialtees@gmail.com asap!

WHAT'S FOSTERING, YOU WONDER?!

Fostering lasts a few weeks, and Social Tees can provide supplies if you need them.  Fostering is SUPER important because it's much healthier for our animals to be in homes than in cages, and it expands our shelter virtually.

AND for every cat and dog that is placed in a foster home, Social Tees can pull another out of the kill shelter. So if you are an animal-lover with commitment issues, FOSTER!!!

For more info on fostering, check out our FAQs here. 

Get involved, volunteer, foster!  Adopt!!!

Social Tees 325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003 socialteesnyc.org

Admiring The Moon Over The Capital

The journey from Kamakura to Kyoto takes twelve days. If you travel for eleven but stop with only one day remaining, how can you admire the moon over the capital?

- A letter written in February 1280 by the Buddhist monk, Nicherin Daishonin encouraging a devotee, Niike Saemon-no-jo to continue on in faith.

Carola spent years at this desk, in this room, at her computer, Jupiter often sleeping nearby in the blue chair. Many works came out of that space.  Then one day a new story began.

"I started feeling my way into this book so long ago, I can't even remember when it was, but I think it was 2000.  I put it aside for a while, then came back, and so on," she said.

For us, 'and so on' was the the jangling of keys and the quiet walk sometimes heard on the way to this room. It was greetings rushing by, or a brief break over tea or coffee.  It was a glimpse through the crack of the door of a journey being taken.

Then, one day, 'and so on' became an announcement in Publisher's Marketplace:

Carola Dibbell's THE ONLY ONES, an edgy, intimate, and haunting portrait of a unique mother-daughter relationship in a post-pandemic world, is set for publication in March 2015, by Two Dollar Radio.

Her debut novel is scheduled to come out a month before her 70th birthday.

The moon over the capital looks so beautiful.  How, then, could any of us, following her footsteps, stop on the eleventh day?

**

Related Posts:

Last Of The Native New Yorkers

Big Leaps And Little Steps In The March To Commitment

Sunday Memories: The Days Of Frostbite

"Draw!" Dana Commanded and Art Burst Onto The Wall

Starting the new years right, a visit to Dana was in order. 

She had been doing some house cleaning.  Tucked away in the corner of a top shelf of a closet needed for other things was wallpaper.

Not just any wallpaper, but the paper that had lived on the walls of the bathroom in their home on Grand Street. That had been their home before they moved to Coop City and before Dana moved back to Grand Street and George went into hospice.  

It was from a home when her kids were still kids and aging wasn't something to worry about.

Our bathroom down the street in our Grand Street apartment was plain, functional and not to be dawdled in.  But this bathroom, happily snuck into during passover sedars and various gatherings, offered a story book adventure into baths and faucets and something more wonderful than perfunctory teeth brushing. 

When the decree came for Dana to move the family to Coop City, she ordered everyone to go into the bathroom with pens and paint and markers and crayons and have a ball on the walls that had been kept so pristine.


Everybody came - neighbors, friends, kids, adults - and they scrawled and painted and drew and wrote and before long the declaration, "I want to be an Oscar Meyer Weiner" along with a devastating femme fatale filled the wall.

There was no way Dana could leave it behind. The wall was carefully stripped and and the paper rolled up and packed away.  And then as one move flowed into another, it came along, tucked away with posters and old paintings.

Unrolling the strips the Boy Next Door and I stared, maybe for the first time in forty-five years, at one of our first story picture books which just had happened to be on a wall.

**

When All Else Fails...

Unconditional Love. Unconditional Everything

Sunday Memories:  Guest Artist Dana - "If I Bring Forth What Is Inside Me, What I Bring Forth Will Save Me."

Stories From The Crossing

Sunday Memories: Guest Artist- Dana: The Gift That Kept On Giving

Sunday Memories: Two! Two! Two Memories In One!

Sunday Memories: The Boy Next Door

Sunday Memories of Guest Artist Ben Kushner: Dementia’s Ah-Hah Moments

Before it was "Fame" and before it became LaGuardia, Ben and I went to Performing Arts High School together.  His mom, Eleanor, now 91, was born at 2083 Clinton Avenue in the Bronx (near Morris Heights).  He shares his journey with Eleanor in Her New York.

**
My sister, her sons and her husband came to visit Mom at the very lovely assisted living facility where she now resides. 

My nephew, Ziad, brought his girlfriend Cassie. Mom had met her once before, but it was late in the day and sundowning was kicking in.

Introductions were made once or twice. Mom understood who everyone was and that Cassie and Ziad were together. Mom turned to me privately and asked if they were serious.

The visit was very short and soon it was time for dinner. My sister and family got ready to leave. There were farewells and more re-introductions.

Finally, I was left alone with Mom. I was getting ready to escort her to the dining room when she asked me, "What's her name? Your girlfriend’s name?"

I said, "That's Cassie. She's Ziad's girlfriend."

She pondered that for a moment. Then, "What's YOUR girlfriend's name?"

"I don't have a girlfriend; I have Adam."

Adam is my partner of 38 years. He and Eleanor have always had a wonderful relationship. Her first question to me always is, “How’s Adam? What’s he working on?”

Only this time she paused.

She looked at me and then smiled, "Oh, you're one of THOSE".

"No, Mom, we're TWO of those"

My Mom had forgotten that I was gay.


**
Related Posts:

The Visit To The Hospital: Part One

Sunday Memories: Lost in The Dangling Conversation, A Childhood Joy Found

Getting Lost In The Dangling Conversation

Sunday Memories - Lost In the Dangling Conversation* - Florence as a Memory 

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Warm! Because, baby, it's cold out there!

There's a reason Friday's Child is now a part 

of Her New York, if only to say thank you.


SOCIAL TEES SUCCESS STORY

Ever seen The Neverending Story? This kid's got a Falcor of her own. 

Barkley (formerly Max), big snow white fur giant-angel, was rescued earlier this year from a nasty situation in Tennessee. He was emaciated, ragged, covered in ticks, and not too happy when he was first taken in. 

The long trip up to NYC disoriented him a little, but a super dog lover and good friend of Social Tees took one for the team and stepped up to foster him... and the family fell IN LOVE!!!! Especially the daughter who went gaga over this big guy. Now he's her fairytale story time buddy and they all live happily ever after in Brooklyn. 

WANT TO HAVE YOUR OWN TRUE LOVE? 

 

 Toto!!! Back from his own trip to OZ and now looking for a forever home.

Powder, 5-years old, sweet as all get out.  

 

Triscit and Cheezit - two  little terrier mix pups described as "professional cuddlers".

And there are always kittens!!!

Get involved, volunteer, foster!  Adopt!!!

Social Tees 325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003 socialteesnyc.org

Big Leaps And Little Steps In The March To Committment

Carola and Goldie

Everyone came to be witnesses of the paperwork that really makes a relationship.  

With everything signed, Goldie safely out of Jupiter's reach, a story I didn't know was told. 

It seemed, once upon a time, Herman Katz, New York City Clerk, refused to allow women who wore pants to City Hall to get married.  

Carola and Bob had friends in the NYCLU who, knowing that Herman Katz had this policy, and knowing that Carola and Bob were planning a wedding, and perhaps even knowing what they were planning on wearing to that wedding, asked them to be plaintiffs in a test case that would force Mr. Katz to be polite when faced with a woman in slacks, i.e., not be a moron.   So Carola and Bob signed affidavits and the lawyers took care of everything. 

They lost.  As a  courtesy the NYCLU arranged to have a judge marry them "in chambers" on December 20th, 1974.   

"I may actually have worn a skirt for that--I don't remember," Carola said.   

On December 21 they had their own ceremony in Carola's parents' living room.  Two couples, whose marriages they respected, read from the Book of Common Prayer questions (do you, so and so, take you, so and so).  She and Bob, however, rewrote the language to suit their politics.  

They also donned their merry apparel to suited their hearts and souls and fabulous style (at least for 1974).

"We both wore velvet pantsuits--he got his at Ohrbach's, but I had such a hard time finding one that worked for me that I had to have one made-to-order.  We then had a totally home-made buffet with a wonderful cake my mother made and a dance tape that Bob and I made." 

It's forty years later.  And of course, now everyone can be who they are and be with who they love and wear whatever they want at City Hall.  At least from watching the wonderful parade of everything, everyone did.

 

And there at Window Two, Miss Divina took $35, showed off her own wedding and engagement ring, and handed over a certificate that allows lots of different kinds of couples wearing lots of different things to be legally visible in the State of New York.

 
That certificate said the Mariner could not get evicted if I were to die, we could make medical decisions for one another if need be and most importantly we could visit each other in jail.   That certificate also said that, as two adults, we were agreeing to take on the other's life and be careful with it.   

There was nothing that said who had to wear pants.

**
Related Posts:

Last Of The Native New Yorkers

Sunday Memories: Forgetting The Past

Sunday Memories: In The Happy Cacophony Of A Visit...

Burning Down The House

Tales From A Hard Day's Night: Where Were You When The Lights Went Out?

Tales From A Hard Day's Night: Darkest Before The Dawn

Jewish Geography

It Happens When It Happens...

A Rerun During A Bad Cold: Being Sick

Originally posted May 1, 2011

Juggling a soup bowl or a cup of tea, Florence would point her finger at me and say, "Well, you know it's all your fault."

After that statement of fact, the rest of the day would be spent curled with a pile of my favorite books and the radio tuned to the New York City radio station that broadcast children shows for all the sick kids stuck at home. On special days, I even got to spend the day in my parents' bed. Naps would sneak up on me and when the radio was tuned to WABC AM, music like 'These Boots Are Made For Walking' would transform my dreams to music videos before video had even been invented.

These days, books and a mini-tv and the cat keep me company as I drift in and out of naps. Every once in a while I tell myself "Well, you know it's all your fault."

Sunday Memories: First Loves

The kiss and the hope for a kiss

After a kiss or the hope for a kiss, if you are lucky, a door swings opens onto a world only dreamed of before.   

She of the kiss opened the door to freedom.  Freedom to finally step into all of me, with light and shadow and image and expression that didn't require an argument or proof.  Just a picture singing thousands of dreams.

And she, who made so many of us hope for a kiss, stepped onto a stage and opened the door to my soul. A soul that could do no wrong making a fool of myself on stage and bursting my heart onto a page.

**
Related Posts:

Desperate Archives: An exhibition based on 20 years of Split Britches archival materials

Ruff: the critically acclaimed solo performance by Peggy Shaw, directed and co-written by Lois Weaver

Sunday Memories: The Hand That Fed

Returning To An Old Embrace We Suddenly Gathered

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Ready To Start The New Year Right!

There's a reason Friday's Child is now a part 

of Her New York, if only to say thank you.

The Best Way To Fulfill New Years Resolutions!

Adopt a Puppy!!!

Love!  They will always love you!!

Weight Loss! All that walking will be the best gym ever!

Better friends!!!  Loyalty like never before! AND no judging.  You ALWAYS look good to them.

Need To Check It Out First?

FOSTER!!!

Social Tees needs short-term foster homes for this little munchkin and 8 of his friends starting NOW!  All pups are sweet, fully vetted and in dire need of saving! Make a difference and help save these guys! Email: dimitra.socialtees@gmail.com

 WHAT'S FOSTERING, YOU WONDER?!

Fostering lasts a few weeks, and Social Tees can provide supplies if you need them.  Fostering is SUPER important because it's much healthier for our animals to be in homes than in cages, and it expands our shelter virtually.

AND for every cat and dog that is placed in a foster home, Social Tees can pull another out of the kill shelter. So if you are an animal-lover with commitment issues, FOSTER!!!

For more info on fostering, check out our FAQs here.

WANT TO GET INVOLVED!???

VOLUNTEERS AND DONATIONS ARE NEEDED!



Social Tees
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org

Untitled Prayer

New Years Day in New York City.

In The Landscape Of Glass And $5 Coffee, Suddenly Wonderfulness..

Mees was on the corner and EVERYBODY went there for EVERYTHING, not just noodles but if you wanted the best noodles, then definitely noodles.

Standing by the take-out counter (which was also where you stood to eat-in at the Formica tables and rickety wooden chairs) it was mesmerizing watching the cooks perform magically acts as they flew through the air.

Suddenly there would be a container of wonderfulness.  At prices anyone could afford.

Until suddenly, it was boarded up and the building was being rebuilt and we got some menu that said Mees was somewhere on the internet or uptown, but not on the corner.  There was no counter to stand at, mesmerized and anticipating delight.

The building became half-glass, a bit taller, and luxurious and the corner became filled with very delicious coffee that cost almost as much as a container of wonderfulness.

Years went by and that coffee place became almost old.  If you wanted noodles and wonderfulness, well, in this neighborhood, you'd have stand on line at a place most carefully designed  to look nonchalant.

The memory of Mees joined that soft fog of missing everything else.

Until, why just the other day, walking slowly down from the First Avenue Bus with the Mariner, newly minted as domestic partners, a sign that was maybe even a 'sign' of more good things to come, announced a counter was coming back to the neighborhood.

Maybe not at the corner, but close enough.  Close enough to once again walk over and watch cooks perform magically acts as they fly through the air.  And maybe once again there would suddenly be a container of wonderfulness.  At prices anyone might be able to afford.

Sunday Memories: The Painting

Always knew it was the Williamsburg Bridge. 

It hung on the wall by Florence's piano.

Until the bad years when, one night, she threw it out.  My father and I followed her downstairs to the laundry/garbage room on the other side of the courtyard, and after she has stormed off, took it back and hid it out of her sight behind a beat-up aluminum portable closet. 

She was trying to erase the horrible disaster one makes when one turns his or her back on their soul.  She was attempting to rewrite her life.   She was insisting on being reborn as who she was.

Soon after, I began my own repetitive diaspora.  Finally landing a new home, I took the painting from its hiding place and put it on new walls.

Years later, Florence, wanting to live again with remnants of her past, requested the painting back.   It went back behind the portable closet, now more beat-up than ever.

And after she died, I brought it back to my now old home.  One of the first things I asked the Mariner to help me with was hanging it back up on the only wall it fit. 

Like a relative you suddenly realize isn't just "Aunt" or "Uncle" but an actual person with a real life, one day I looked closely at the painting and saw that in fact it had been signed.

Maybe I was waiting for the internet to be invented.  

I found the artist.  Bill Chaiken.   Still painting at 92 years old.  Letters exchanged and I finally found out the story of the painting.

He had come from Winnepeg, Canada to New York to study painting at the Arts Student League.   He got a job at the Henry Street Settlement as the janitor, which included shoveling coal into the furnace early, early in the morning.   

On one of those early, early mornings he heard a piano being played, some classical piece.   He followed the sound to the dance studio.  And there was Florence, soon to be married but still living in the tenement on Hester Street with her mother, at the grand piano, practicing. 

Thus began a daily morning visit where, as she practiced, he sat and listened to his own private concert.

He had an artist's studio under the Williamsburg bridge, painting the "landscape seen through the lace steelwork".  He may have given the painting to her, she may have bought it.  He can't remember.

All he remembered was those early, early morning private concerts and, of course, the painting, which he was glad to see again some sixty years later.

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Wishes Everyone A Wonderful Forever Home Christmas!

There's a reason Friday's Child is now a part 

of Her New York, if only to say thank you.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO SOCIAL TEES!!!!

Social Tees didn't need a visit from Santa this year. Look at the stash of loot (donations) the storefront rescue center got this week from our out-of-this-world-incredible supporters!!!!! 

Pet food, cat litter, crates, cleaning products, and more!!! 

Social Tees says:Omg we are beyond grateful. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR KINDNESS AND GENEROSITY!!!!!

Do you want to foster or adopt???!!!!

 It's easy.  All you have to do is fill out a form

 

WHAT'S FOSTERING, YOU WONDER?!

Fostering lasts a few weeks, and Social Tees can provide supplies if you need them.  Fostering is SUPER important because it's much healthier for our animals to be in homes than in cages, and it expands our shelter virtually.

AND for every cat and dog that is placed in a foster home, Social Tees can pull another out of the kill shelter. So if you are an animal-lover with commitment issues, FOSTER!!!

For more info on fostering, check out our FAQs here.

WANT TO GET INVOLVED!???

VOLUNTEERS AND DONATIONS ARE NEEDED!



Social Tees
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org


 

'Twas The Day Right On Christmas...

Once upon a Christmas day, the doorbell rang and there was Kay.

Kay had been the first woman to do lots of things.  Newspapers, magazines, publishing....

But, I only knew her as my neighbor Pat's younger sister, the one who, although just about blind, made sure Pat answered the phone, got fed, was OK ... the one who before the big hurricane hit was going to go unaccompanied across town to get her big sister to safety.

So, of course, when I saw Kay, practically barefoot at my front door, I thought something was wrong.

"You need to come over and help Pat," she said.

I shouted for the Mariner and rushed next door. 

And there on the kitchen island was tons of food.

From the Second Avenue Deli.

"They sent it up from Florida, but we don't eat that much.  Take what you want.  Can you see if Olga is home?"

So I got Olga from upstairs and the Mariner got a tupperware and we all had Christmas dinner standing around the kitchen island. 

**
Related Posts:

R.I.P. Rags, Our Beloved Neighbor, Our Dearest Friend

Sunday Memories: Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future

They Don't Have Real Food Where She Lives

In Case Of Emergency

Days Like This

It Happens When It Happens

I had met them before.   On a Thursday.

On the same bus.  Avenue A going back up to 14th Street.

Had to run downtown to Florence's.  Stopped to talk with the staff there. Ran into an old friend as I hobbled up the stairs.  Got to the bus stop before the bus got to the bus stop.  Watched them get on at the next stop, clearly miserable in the cold weather, not sure how to get to where they were going, and and bugging the bus driver who finally told them to relax sit down I'll get you there but you gotta let me get there first...

Yeah, I chimed in, you'll be fine -  because travel on the MTA is a group participation activitiy. 

The weekend came.

Had to run downtown to Florence's.  Brought the Mariner with me.  Met with a whole bunch of people. Met a whole bunch of other people last minute.  Visited a neighbor. Stopped by the laundry room to say hi to an old friend, hobbled up the stairs, got to the bus stop before the bus got to the bus stop....

And there they were.  At the next stop.  Definitely enjoying the warmer weather.

We gave them our seats.  And before you know, we're all talking non-stop, yeah they had gotten to New Jersey alright, her former daughter-in-law was in the same anthology series I was, writing about the store her family owned - the one my bubbie used to go into and argue with her distant cousins to give her a better discount, he was a cop in Brooklyn in the 30's, in those days, ok just a short story, but in those days...

...and then of course the question about how long have you been together...

"A year and a half," she said.  "You?"

"Two and a half," we said.

"How?"

"We met online.  You?"

"At the airport."

Both heading home to Florida after some tough family stuff in New York, the plane got delayed, and the only seat left on the plane was next to him.

She sat down and said, "This is the last time I'm ever flying this fucking airline."

He thought, "Wow what spunk."

And she, 'allergic' to short men, glanced at his legs, and thought, "Wow. Tall."

Which made me and the Mariner laugh because on our first date I yelled at him when he asked if he could kiss me.

He says he said, "Ok.  I'll try later."

I don't remember that.  But I did remember thinking, "Wow.  I get to be myself with this guy."

And he remembered thinking, "Wow.  She's honest."

"I was widowed five years ago, wasn't interested in dating at all," the woman said.

"I'm 90," the man said.  She grinned.

We refrained from going, "AWWWWWW!"  After all, we hate it when the 20 somethings say that to us when we stand on line at Trader Joes.

But looking back at that bus ride, the perfect timing of running into that couple out of the blue again, the storytelling, the intersection of family and history, I guess it shouldn't have surprised either of us when in the middle of a messy house, the cats running around, the sink full of dishes and us in our most comfortable nap-time sleepy clothes, the Mariner got down on one knee...


**
Related Posts:

Days Like This

Sunday Memories: The Future Look Of Love

Conjugating Love

Part Two: The Look Of Love

Part One: The Look Of Love

Perfect Timing

Jewish Geography

Encore of a Sunday Memory: Visiting Santa

Originally posted on Sunday, December 26, 2010



Why my Jewish parents did this or what they were thinking will forever remain a mystery.

Every year when the blinking lights went up and the store windows filled with moving animals, toys and people, my mother and father, my sister and me would leave the lower east side where nary a Christmas tree could be found and head to Macy's to look at all the Christmas decorations.

In those days, the corner window squeezed in between the Nedicks doors had a special Santa throne. We would wait in the freezing cold and then he'd suddenly appear out of the chimney or a beautifully wrapped box and the crowd would go wild as he waved through thick glass that blocked the sound of our cheering or his 'ho ho ho's.

He also lived on the 8th or 9th floor in Santaland. We may have visited him on more than one occasion but I only remember this one time.

I was in fifth grade and it was not going well. Especially math. I was worried. My father, I think, brought me up to Santaland which for some strange reason was almost deserted. I didn't quite get the "ask Santa for presents" deal. I knew it was my dad or my mom who produced the eight days of Chanukah presents. And our God which we never discussed was busy with plagues and lion dens and Israel.

I was kinda big to be climbing onto Santa's lap, but desperate times call for desperate acts. There was only one thing I really wanted that couldn't be gotten anywhere except from someone who made happy dreams come true.

I perched my ten year old self on his knee, and when he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told him. I want to pass math.

It recently occurred to me, 40 plus years later, that maybe he didn't hear many requests like that. At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Passing math was beyond my own abilities, asking my parents for help was beyond theirs and our God was busy with more important things. It was going to have to be up to Santa.

As if it had already happened, he decreed, "You'll pass math."

And so it came to pass that when fifth grade ended many months later, I had passed math.

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And You Want To Take Them Home!!!

There's a reason Friday's Child is now a part 

of Her New York, if only to say thank you.

 If Scrooge had asked the Ghosts for a puppy, 

it would have been this one!

Aggie, a sweet young Wheaten/Poodle mix, desperately needs a foster or forever home ASAP! 

She's only about 15 pounds, hypoallergenic, and super loving. This delicate girl just came from the vet -- she's recovering from a nasty cold and needs to be in a foster home with no other dogs and with someone who can give her antibiotics once a day and make sure she's eating and recovering properly.

She's doing very well,  BUT she just needs an attentive foster parent so she doesn't relapse! 

If you can help this fuzzy angel, please email samantha.socialtees@gmail.com ASAP. We must get this girl into a warm, loving home where she can get the R&R she deserves!!!!

 ADOPT A SNOWY DAY SNUGGLER!!!

 
Social Tees has so many puppies, kittens, dogs, and cats up for adoption. 

This weekend visit them on 5th Street (12-4pm) or head to one of these adoption events:

Petco on 86th and Lex: Puppies and dogs 12-4pm

Petco in Union Square: Kittens and cats 12-4pm

Do you want to foster or adopt???!!!!

 It's easy.  All you have to do is fill out a form

WHAT'S FOSTERING, YOU WONDER?!

Fostering lasts a few weeks, and Social Tees can provide supplies if you need them.  Fostering is SUPER important because it's much healthier for our animals to be in homes than in cages, and it expands our shelter virtually.

AND for every cat and dog that is placed in a foster home, Social Tees can pull another out of the kill shelter. So if you are an animal-lover with commitment issues, FOSTER!!!

For more info on fostering, check out our FAQs here.

WANT TO GET INVOLVED!???

VOLUNTEERS AND DONATIONS ARE NEEDED!

Social Tees
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org

Emptying into Open

"Commence,"  Florence would command.  My unwilling fingers would touch ivory keys, and I'd begin the scales or triads or charming little piano piece for young people she was always dragging me through.

The journey through Her New York began in this room, once my first bedroom, once her last bedroom.  

Now, emptied of second-hand clothes, bent pictures, beaten up blankets, rickety old wooden furniture, radios from the 1970s, chairs found on the street, tables left behind by departing girlfriends, it comes to an end. 

Staring at the door, I heard her ghost command, "Commence."

My unwilling fingers touched camera buttons and began dragging myself through unspoken memories and inherited ghosts buried deep beneath my soul. 

**
Related Posts:

Blog with a view