Last night I spoke at an event inside grand old St. Bart’s on 50th and Park. Afterwards I began meandering and (though I hadn’t planned to) eventually walked the entire way home, about four miles. It was winter, a bit blustery, stimulating; the streets weren’t crowded, late-working folks were leaving work or heading somewhere, hurrying decisively, criss-crossing to and fro(…)
The instructions were: Pack lunch/dinner and snacks and bring water Make sure you are hydrated Get a good nights sleep the night before No back-packs or bags – exception: 1 clear bag 12 x 12 x 6 gallon, one bag 8 x 6 x 4 Bring cash Bring credit card Bring cell phone battery back-up Bring(…)
I first read Czeslaw Milosz while hiding out in Krynica spa in southern Poland at a hotel called Paradiso. I read him again now while hiding out on the twelfth floor – 12F. Milosz encountered strong headwinds through his long life, especially during the Warsaw years. He wouldn’t mind, I’m sure, if I borrow from the ballast he acquired(…)
Have been speechless since the election. All wherewithal has drained out through the soles of my feet. Just want to get under the covers: K.M. wrote: “He acted beyond badly, said things that were beyond repugnant and was thus rewarded. That feels so deeply destabilizing to me. My only solace is that in times of strife and(…)
The new khaki jeans I spied at an Army-Navy-type place on 7th Avenue (unbeknownst to me) buttoned below (not at or above) the waist; otherwise they fit like a dream. I grabbed s pair in my size, paid up, went home, slipped them on, felt great. As I am way overdue with refreshing my wardrobe one item at a time, with these jeans, I(…)
Only one of the many tomato plants growing all summer in my little garden-patch has ripened – the rest remain green. Granted the unripened are beautiful, photogenic shades of lime-green, grape-green, Moldovan-green, but green is not red is not ripe. Whose failure is it: Mother Nature? The sun or lack of? Could it be that a my tomato plants were strangled by morning(…)
My much appreciated neighborhood friend Louise [the admirable painter Louise Fishman] gets a very high score for spontaneity. Over the past dozen years one or the other of our phones will often ring between 8 and 2. One voice will ask, “Breakfast?” The other will respond (usually), “Sure.” One or the other will lock in the time, “See(…)
My sister Nancy (owner of the sublime, cozy, popular Arbor B & B in High Falls, New York) and I discussed iceberg lettuce this morning in the dark way before dawn as an upstairs smoke alarm made ping-ing sounds every minute or so. Because guests were asleep Nancy restrained herself from rushing upstairs to disarm the alarm. Meanwhile, we recalled(…)
A miracle in my garden. Or so it seems. So much had recently slipped through my fingers (a sudden death in Oslo, a sudden death at a gym on Madison Avenue, my brother’s passing on 17th Street, surgery needed by a very, very significant other) in these past weeks that I just couldn’t let this one(…)
Every year, at this time, our father got very excited because the time was coming to take us out for school supplies. We were four kids and he accompanied each and every one of us irregardless of age, grade or whether or not we wanted his company. Hard to believe, but he’d been looking(…)
