Journal Entry for January 13, The Second in a Possible Series and in it Poetry -- Among other Things -- is Discussed With a Mention of Frank O'Hara

Frank O'Hara

My New Year’s Resolution this year was to read and write more poetry. These are two related practices that I have fallen out of recently — much to my detriment. Reading poetry is for me similar to going to a museum. I don’t have to remember anything about the experience and I don’t have look for meaning or any of life’s answers, yet I always feel intellectually sated. Wiser.

Today is the 13th and I finally got around to reading some poetry, whether I later getting around to writing any today is a different matter. I read from Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. (When we art the Museum of Modern Art in New York in October there was an exhibition of O'Hara who had been a curator at the museum -- swell guy.) They are some of my favorites. Favorite poems, I mean. I don’t recall any specific ones, in fact I rarely remember the names of particular poems. I have nothing against memorizing poems or reading them so much that one can recite them by heart, I just don’t feel compelled to. Remembering lines from a poem would for me be like enjoying a day at the beach and remembering specific waves. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense but it accurately describes how I feel.

Oh to be an angel (if there are any!) and go
straight up into the sky and look around and then
                                                     come down
not to be covered by steel and aluminum
glaringly ugly in the pure distances and clattering and
                                              buckling, wheezing
but to be part of the treetops and the blueness, invisible
the iridescent darkness beyond,
                      silent, listenting to
the air becoming no air becoming air again
- From the poem Three Airs by Frank O'Hara

I also like to quote poems as I’ve done on my blog frequently. I admit it, it makes me feel smart. Or maybe more accurately it makes me look smart (which takes some doing, believe me).

It’a all a process. Everything. Nothing concludes except life itself. Everything is like a river and trying to compartmentalize it or divide it into time periods is….gee, I don’t know what to call it. I was going to a  write fool’s errand but that somehow doesn’t seem right. Well the point is you can’t sectionalize a river. The shore yes, but not the water. It flows.

I spent a lot of my youth looking forward to the time when I would have it all figured out. Enlightenment. Everything’s done, it’s all settled, questions answered, time to sit back and relax. Well cuz, it just don’t work that way. I figured that out pretty quick. It’s kind of like the more you learn the less you know. I’ve learned so much over the years that today I’m truly ignorant. But I show up for more.

Well I seem to have run out of steam here. I’ve got several things to do so I’d better get on it. One thing I’m doing these days is reading a biography of Napoleon. The sucker is 810 pages long. I’m enjoying it and it's filling in some gaps in my historical knowledge but damned if it can’t be frustrating to read a long book as it occupies so much of your reading time. In the past I’ve read a non fiction book and a novel at the same time but I prefer focusing on one. What’s frustrating about reading a long book is that all the books I have that are waiting to be read keep calling out to me asking for their turn. I have a new biography of Frederick Douglass waiting to be read and it’s a weighty tome as well. But it’ll have to wait. No way am I diving headlong into another biography after I finish with this Bonaparte chap. I’ll read a novel or two or three before I get to Mr. Douglass.

Okay, so this is two days in a row I’ve written a journal entry and I reckon for the second straight day I’ll put it up on ye olde blog. This can’t last, but then it doesn’t need to. Nothing does.

Another Trip to New York, Another Fabulous Time

The George Washington bridges seen from the Cloisters.

Just got back after spending nine days in New York. The highlight of the trip and always the primary reason we (the wife and I) go to the Big Apple is to visit youngest daughter. She's working full time as a social worker while also getting her MSW and -- like her older sister -- making her dad very proud. She soaked us for four dinners, a brunch and a theater ticket but it's worth ten dinners, seven brunches and five theater tickets to hang with her. My late great father would be enormously proud of my children and my brother's four young 'uns. I have two nieces and two nephews who are among planet Earth's finest citizens. Enough boasting about my family....

Our first day we went to the Brooklyn Museum where we especially enjoyed an exhibition of the photography of Gary Winogrand. Most of the photos were the '50s and '60s and while most were taken in the New York area, there were shots from other parts of the US as well. He's got a Diana Arbus vibe to him which I really enjoyed. I liked the Brooklyn Museum which I thought of as a kind of "people's museum." Not as ostentatious as some of the other great museums in the New York area and feels like it caters to the hoi polloi. The day marked our return to the labyrinthine New York subway system where you can see all manner of people. Most qualify as "normal" looking individuals engaged in "normal" subway travel but a few of whom are dressed or posed as if pieces of performance art. The subway is dirty, confusing and often overly crowded but it can get you anywhere. I'd hate to commute in it everyday but as a tourist it's damn convenient.

Central Park.

On day two we went to the Museum of Natural History which is to me more noteworthy for the structure itself then for anything in it. On this my second visit to the museum I was struck by how run down the place has become. There were placards that were difficult to read, some exhibits were poorly lit and some of the descriptions of the Native Americans need to be updated to be in line with modern sensibilities. From the museum we crossed the street and strolled through Central Park and lemme tell you Autumn is the perfect time of year to meander through the biggest municipal park in the US. It's not exactly the Vermont countryside, but the foliage is still striking. Temperatures were in the low 60s, ideal for a long walk.

On Friday we had lunch at Katz's Delicatessen which owes a great deal of its fame to a scene in When Harry Met Sally. We got to the Deli at about 11:15 and immediately got a table. By the time we  left there was a line for seating stretching out onto the sidewalk. Timing is everything. The cuisine was fine but one comes for the atmosphere which Katz's has in spades. Far too many individually owned delis, cafes and restaurants across the country have closed in the last few decades to be replaced by chic, hip and stylized eateries that have flash but no character. Berkeley has lost two classic eateries in the past few years that had histories stretching back decades. The missus overheard two old geezers at a nearby table lamenting the many fine delis in New York that are no more. Katz's walls are festooned with photos of celebrities who have patronized the place, everyone from Joe DiMaggio to Leonardo Dicaprio. Next we took in the Tenement Museum which you can only enjoy via one of their many tours. I went on one called Hard Times in which we were taken to a tenement and shown rooms once occupied by particular families of immigrants. Our guide was a young lady who knew her stuff. The museum does an excellent job of preservation and research to accurately depict the immigrant experience from the mid 19th century through the 1930s and to a lesser degree, until today. The museum also boasts a kick ass gift shop. (I love museum gift shops, though I rarely purchase anything from them.)

Saturday we went to the Top of the Rock which is, of course, the top of Rockefeller Center. The views are spectacular, although I preferred my visit last year to the top of the Empire State Building.
In the evening we took in a hot and controversial play, The Slave Play. It has apparently made many a theater goer uncomfortable -- including some in our audience  -- because of its frank and vivid representation of interracial relationships -- not to mention relationships in general -- and its uncanny ability to connect racial tensions of today (even those hidden within a romantic relationship) with the legacy of slavery. It also lampooned group therapy and all the jargon and tropes that go with it. For this is a play about using role playing set in the antebellum south as couples therapy. The actors are almost as brave and bold as the playwright Jeremy O. Harris.

People enjoying a Jackson Pollack painting

The next day we enjoyed brunch with youngest daughter then navigated a downpour to go to MoMa, aka the Museum of Modern Art. This is one of my favorite museums in the world and it did not disappoint on this rainy Sunday. There was the works of Edward Hopper, Jackson Pollack, Man Ray, Salvador Dali, Georgia O'Keefe, Picasso, Andy Warhol, Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo and many more. What an absolute delight to spend time with the work of some of our greatest artists. There was also an exhibition of one of my favorite poets, Frank O'Hara, who was also an artist and a curator at the museum. There's nothing that can lift a mood like being surrounded by great efforts by great artists, it restores one's faith in humanity.

Monday's visit to the Cloisters was nowhere near as exciting but still enjoyable and the location affords some magnificent views especially at this time of the year. It was preceded by a stop at Columbia University where my mother did her graduate work and where my favorite writers, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg met. We also stopped by Tom's Restaurant the exterior of which was used as a stand-in for Monk's Cafe in the greatest of all TV sit-coms, Seinfeld. You may have heard of it. Later we took a second stroll through Central Park.

On our last full day we made a second pilgrimage to Zabar's where I had a bagel with lox, a sticky bun and tea. Zabar's has been seen or mentioned in dozens of movies and TV shows. The cafe and adjoining store have been a going concern since the 1920s. We also popped into the New York Public Library which to my surprise has a gift shop and indeed it is a terrific gift shop. Our visit provided one of the highlights of the trip as they currently have a JD Salinger exhibition and boy what an exhibition. On display were the author's typewriter, passports, pipes, reading glasses, book contracts, the original manuscript of Catcher in the Rye (!!!!) along with correspondence and family photos. Fantastic.

Yesterday we flew across the country and boy are my arms tired (rim shot).

So Many Superlatives: Nine Days Back East, Seven in New York and Two in Our Nation's Capital

The author and A. Lincoln

Nine days ago the missus and I took a hellish Uber ride to the San Francisco airport then flew to New York. The flight to NY was planned, the hellish Uber ride was not. Our driver was a friendly soul but my god she could not stop talking and her voice reached ear-splitting decibels. Loud is too mild a word to describe the shrill agony-inducing quality of her vocal chords. And oh yes, she was repetitious. You can only hear someone tell you how proud they are of their grandson so many times before you want to scream. On the other hand she got lost looking for the Jet Blue terminal. That was the start of our journey.

But we made it to the plane and soared over what is known as flyover country. The reason it is so called should be self-evident. Someone explain it to Trump.

To economize we stayed in a tiny Air B&B. Perhaps tiny is not the word. It was not possible to find it with a map but could be located via a microscope. There was a bed wedged the "room" and just enough space for our luggage, provided we made no attempt to open it.

Sunday morning we met youngest daughter (she is a resident now of Brooklyn) at Penn Station where we caught a train for our nation's capital (still in Washington D.C.). Our journey took us through Baltimore, Philadelphia and best of all Wilmington, Delaware, i.e. the jewel of the Christina and Delaware rivers. I'd never been to D.C. before and was looking forward to soaking in a little history having taught the subject for a couple of dozen years and studied it since I started reading. My old cynical unpatriotic heart was actually somewhat moved by being at the Lincoln Memorial, Abraham Lincoln having been a decent sort and certainly worthy of a monument or two. Prior to that I was quite excited when, much to my surprise, we found ourselves walking by the Watergate. Yes, that Watergate. The scandal that brought down the Nixon presidency has been a subject of fascination for me, indeed it has been ever since the story unfolded over four decades ago.

Right by the Watergate is the Kennedy Center and that's the way it is in D.C. with one famous place right next to another. We could, of course, see the Washington Monument from pretty much anyplace we stood, or sat or walked or ran or drove. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial touched me as the Vietnam war formed the backdrop to my youth and is another subject that has interested me. We also went by the World War II Memorial which was beautiful but a little bit too festive to commemorate an event in which so many innocents were slaughtered. We capped off our day by going by the White House. Given who currently resides there (a racist, misogynist, homophobic, narcissist, megalomaniacal, dimwit) it was surprisingly depressing to see this beautiful, historic seat of "democracy." Living in Berkeley and working in San Francisco, I was surprised to see, for the first time live and in person, some yokel wearing one of those god awful Make American Great Again hats. It was fitting that he looked like the village idiot's poor relation.

We spent the night in a hotel which in comparison to our Air B&B was the Palace of Versailles.

MLK Jr. Memorial

The next day I went to the Smithsonian's US History Museum while daughter and wife took in the National Portrait Gallery. The scourge of the trip was ever present roving bands of students on field trips with haggard, worried, demanding teachers struggling to keep order. (This is a particularly painful sight as one who has been a haggard, worried, demanding teacher struggling to keep order on a school field trip). What a delight to be soaking in some history while studying an exhibit of say Calvin Coolidge's underwear when a group of screaming teenagers runs into the room all energy, acne and insolence. Nevertheless I enjoyed my visit seeing Lincoln's top hat, Grant's carriage, Washington's desk, Jackie Kennedy's inaugural dress and Willie Mays' baseball glove, to name but a few items of historical import.

After spending not enough time in that museum I met the family and we spent not nearly enough time at the National Museum of African American History and Culture. (Not being able to spend enough time in a museum was the theme of the trip, as it is whenever one travels.) This museum was one of the best history museums I've ever set foot in and indeed one of the best museums of any kind I've had the pleasure to visit. It brilliantly captures the scope of the African American experience from Jamestown through Obama's election. Anyone who has any time in D.C. should make a point to see it. It was also refreshing to be in a museum that was -- and this is no surprise -- so well attended by our Black brothers and sisters. I can only imagine the mixture of pain and pride that comes with a journey through this part of history. Later we went by the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial and despite the ubiquitous school field trip brigades, it was another moving experience.

Taken from Empire State Building

Monday night we returned to NY and the next day were met by rain. We soldiered on just the same, with daughter back at her job with the Brooklyn D.A.'s office the better half (believe, much, much better -- ask anyone who knows us both) and I took the ferry into Manhattan. We went hither and yon enjoying the hustle and bustle which is easy enough to do when one is on vacation. We went to the New York Historical Society a modest little museum compared to where we had been and would later go but enjoyable just the same. Our travels were greatly aided by New York's subway system where one sees all manner of human being. The beautiful, the wretched, the hideous, the normal, the loud, the young, old and all points between. I saw one young man (and this is not -- sadly -- uncommon) playing with himself quite vigorously. He was wearing sweatpants to facilitate the activity.

In the coming days the rain was gone although after a few comfortable days it was replaced by blazing heat. I do not like hot weather no matter if I'm working, running errands, sitting at home or playing tourist. We forged on. There were many highlights the highest of which were again museums,  namely the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art (that's the Met to us sophisticates). There was Cezanne, Matsse, Picasso (Spanish chap, look him up), Van Gogh and Italian named Giorgio de Chirico who I'd been unfamiliar with, Wyeth, antiquities, Medieval artifacts and so much more. But again never enough time. I love museums, they make me happy and provide temporary cures for depression when I am so afflicted. It also makes me happy to be in bookstores and New York boasts one of the best, Strand's. I happily roamed around it and with great restraint managed to buy only two books.

We also went to Grant's tomb, I was determined to see it having recently read Ron Chernow's magnificent biography of the man. I was most impressed and particularly loved the location in Riverside Park, a lovely area. We stopped by Columbia University on the way. My mother got her M.A. there right around the time my two literary heroes, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg were also there. A fellow named Obama also attended Columbia, many years later.  I also liked touring the home where Theodore Roosevelt was born and spent his first few years. I have decidedly mixed feelings about TR but have always been unequivocally fascinated by him. I took my first trip to the top of the Empire State Building and it shouldn't surprise one to learn that the views are magnificent. We also strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge which would have been a lot nicer had not 17 zillion other people and half a jillion bicyclists not been going across at the same time.

A Picasso currently at the Met.

We reunited with daughter Friday night to go to the theater. We saw an Edward Albee play, Three Tall Women, staring Laurie Metcalf, Allison Pill and the legendary Glenda Jackson. It was fabulous (isn't it nice how many glowing adjectives I'm using to describe our trip? it must have been really good.) Our last full day was Saturday and the heat was ridiculous and we refused to engage with it. instead we took in a movie at a really nice theater in the Lincoln Center -- right across the street from The Juilliard School which has produced a thespian or two. In the evening we had dinner with daughter at an Italian restaurant which I could apply still more glowing adjectives to. I had the sea bass. Succulent.

Sunday was departure day. We took an Uber to daughter's residence and our driver was an old gent who when he found out we were from near San Francisco berated that city for its over abundance of gays and lesbians. He further maintained that there were virtually no gays in New York.  The driver excused his homophobia on the basis of his being Jewish. Sorry, pal, there's no excuse for bigotry and trying to blame your religion is a lame one at that. I gave him one star and left a comment why and Uber refunded our ride.

After breakfast and time visiting our child it was time to return to the Bay Area. Our flight home was relatively crash free and it was nice to be home and to see oldest daughter. Today is Memorial Day and tomorrow it's back to work. I'd rather be going to a museum.

Euro Vacation 2017 Part One - But First a Brief Visit in New York

Brooklyn Bridge, photo by author (that's me).

It was just a few steps from JFK to the air-conditioned taxi cab Friday night, but it was time enough to feel the wall of heat. From the cab to the hotel there were a few more steps and more of the New York city heat wave. No thanks. To me anything over 70 degrees is just showing off, to be in the 80s AT NIGHT with a good bit of humidity mixed in is just ridiculous. But it was only for a few days. Today the temperature was in the upper 70s and thus manageable.

Weather conditions aside the weekend has been marvelous. The main point of the layover was to visit youngest daughter who lives on the Queens/Brooklyn border. We had a grand time with her, including a leisurely brunch on Saturday and chit chatting in her apartment afterwards. Last night the missus and I saw A Doll's House Part 2 starring Laurie Metcalf in her Tony Award winning performance. Chris Cooper was also in the four person cast. This was one of the top three theater productions I've ever seen. The standing ovation at the end was not at all perfunctory.

Before and after the play we had to manage Times Square -- my least favorite part of New York and indeed one of my least favorite places anywhere. Gaudy, crowded, commercial and a symbol of capitalistic excess. What a blight on a great city. Wish I'd seen Times Square when it was just a special part of Manhattan and not a nightmare television commercial on steroids.

We've been navigating New York on the subway and via Uber and of course on foot. New York is feast for the eyes. The people you see alone are an endless source of entertainment. Beautiful women aplenty but also the bizarre, misshapen, the angry, the sullen, the screaming, the pathetic, the brawny and in all sizes, shapes and colors. Yarmulkes here, hijabs there, priests, buddhists, Hare Krishnas, guys in Yankee caps, Italians, Somalis, and oh so many tourists.

We had delicious New York bagels Saturday.

We visited The Brooklyn Bridge this morning, one of those iconic sites that's far more impressive in person. Youngest daughter took me to the Gangster Museum on the Lower East Side this afternoon. We both have a fondness for gangster lore and films, as does oldest daughter. The museum itself was small and the displays looked slapped together by an 8th grader but there was some impressive stuff including bullets from the St. Valentine's Day massacre, a mobster's safe and John Dillinger's death mask. There were two guides who each gave us long spiels on gangster history, especially regarding the building we were in which was a gangster hangout in the 20s and 30s and was attached to what was then a speakeasy. It was fun.

From there we re-connected with my wife and later had a terrific pizza dinner in Brooklyn. I could hang around New York for days, weeks, months, years, as long as someone did something about the heat waves. But tomorrow morning the missus and I continue our journey with an early morning flight across the Atlantic. We'll have a one night stay in London....well, you'll be reading about all this later -- or not, your choice. I was sad to have just sad goodbye to youngest daughter knowing we'll not see her again until Christmas, but I'm excited for her and her life here and for us and this journey which is just beginning.

Part Two of Our Trip to New York, New York the City So Nice they Named it Twice

View from Ellis Island.

Someday in the future I’ll be traversing the Sahara Desert and will encounter a former student who has just finished at MIT. Last Thursday I was walking through Manhattan and I came across Sofia who was a middle school student of mine eight years ago. She just graduated from Harvard. In 2009 while strolling through a park in Paris I was hailed by Maura, a student from a few years prior who had matriculated at some place called Yale. It actually is a small world. Ask any astronomer.

Prior to the surprise encounter, the missus, oldest daughter and I had journeyed to Ellis Island where millions of immigrants were processed for admission to the US or were detained for further examination or sent back home between 1892 and 1954. There are scenes in Godfather Part 2 of Vito Corleone as a boy going through Ellis Island in the early 20th century. I always thought they were some of the best moments in cinema, in part because they are so realistic. Now having been to the island I’m even more impressed with their believability.

Also on the island with us were assorted school groups, most of them of the middle school variety. I taught the little buggers for 20 years so I know what they’re like and know that they were bored to tears when their well-intentioned teachers sat them down and lectured about the island’s history. The road to boredom is paved with good intentions. I watched for awhile as a couple dozen students were being talked at, maybe seven or eight of the adolescents were paying any attention. (An adult chaperone couldn't stop yawning.) What I learned about field trips from years in the biz is that you do all your yakking in advance and once at the place to be visited you turn your charges loose with assignments to do. Shepherding young people around and trying to cram facts into their brains is a losing proposition.

The most striking part of the trip -- besides the spectacular views toward the city -- was the great hall which saw so many hopeful immigrants, doubtless feeling mixtures of excitement, fear and homesickness.

Wisely we had arrived at the island early so the hordes were just pouring in as we left. I can’t  — or don’t want to — imagine the place on a weekend afternoon in July. Talk about teeming huddled masses. The US is the most schizophrenic country in the world when it comes to immigration. Please come, please go back. Welcome. Get out. Thanks for helping. You bums!

Our boat swung by the Statue of Liberty, so of course I snapped a stream of photos. It’s a little odd to see something so iconic up close for the first time. There’s that combination of "wow there it actually is" and "so is that all there is to it?" Lady Liberty was not the kind of thing that fills me with awe. Things of great beauty do that like Lake Tahoe and my wife and certain works of art.

Brooklyn Bridge

After strolling around Manhattan and looking for more people from my previous life, the missus and I parted company with oldest daughter and went to Little Italy. (I will refrain from any Mafia jokes or references.) While this section of New York has an abundance of tourist trappings, it also has its charms and, as we discovered first hand, good restaurants. I had a filet of sole with pasta that was so succulent my mouth waters just writing about it.

I continued to marvel at New York’s subways. Everyone who ever lived can be seen on a subway car. If you ride long enough you’ll see a neanderthal a cro-magnon and their lower form, the republican congressman. We saw the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the weird, the really weird and the oh-my-god-you've-got-to-be-kidding. There are also one helluva lot of nondescript people minding their own beeswax. Some poor souls go from car to car asking for money and a few even seem to have pretty compelling stories. It’s a sad state of affairs that this country has so many homeless and so many guns and so many idiots. Don’t get me started.

Friday we went to the Brooklyn side of the eponymous bridge. What a sight! Here was something that was actually more beautiful than I imagined. Both the bridge and the view. There was also a photo shoot going on with a model whose beauty further enhanced the scene. Prior to the bridge we ate at one of New York’s many renowned pizzerias. This one is celebrated for its unique oven, a kind no longer allowed. Yes, it was delicious. If you don't eat well in New York it can only be because you don't want to.

Later we went to Grand Central Station so that oldest daughter could record me saying: “it’s like Grand Central Station in here” and “what is this Grand Central Station?” Two things I’ve been saying all my life. Hundreds of commuters stopped and roared with laughter at my cleverness. I was suitably impressed by the station which I noted is grand and centrally located. Hence the name. From there we took a gander at the Empire State Building which I like because, like me, it's old and beautiful. Well old.

Our last full day was spent largely in and around Central Park, a place I would frequent if a resident of New York. We thus also saw a lot of the swanky apartments that house the fabulously wealthy or those lucky enough to have bought places when they were reasonably priced in the 70s. The 1870s. The Guggenheim was nearby so we took in another great museum, this one featuring mostly modern art and I always surprise everyone, myself included, by liking modern art. Hey, I’m a classy guy. One more delicious dinner awaited, this one at a French restaurant spitting distance from our apartment. More fish for me the faithful pescatarian.

It was hot in New York but not sizzling, also New York knows how to air condition, something that the Bay Area fails at miserably, principally because -- until global warming screwed with the weather -- we rarely saw high temperatures.

It was a lovely trip highlighted by seeing youngest daughter so happy and successful in her new home. I could live in New York and am not sure why I never did. There’s still time. In many ways it's like San Francisco only more so. There’s anything, everything and then some. I don’t think I’d care for the hotter more humid months even with the blessed  air conditioning, so who knows. If anyone has an apartment to give away near Central Park, contact me through this blog. Appreciate it.

I Keep Waking Up in a City That Doesn't Sleep -- My New York Vacation

During intermission at the theater the other night I bought a bottle of water and "sharing size" of M&Ms. The price was $10. You can't make this stuff up.

The missus, older daughter and I arrived in New York Saturday. We came by airplane as the overland coach takes months and traverses hostile Indian territory. We're here to visit younger daughter who moved to these parts last Fall and is gainfully employed as a social worker. Whilst here we are also taking in the sights.

Among the sights here are people. In great numbers. All variety of human life wading through Times Square, packing on to Subway trains, gawking at statues, queuing for food, lounging in parks. The ceaseless parade of people is a spectacle in and of itself of the highest order. And the variety of bipeds is truly striking. You have, of course the ordinary, but you have a lot of the beautiful a lot of the grotesque and a lot of the weird and a lot of all ages, nationalities, sizes and shapes. People, people everywhere, many of them going hither, others going yon. Some standing quite still. Yet I have not for a second felt crowded. Being here with no business other than enjoyment is freeing and I feel as footloose and fancy free as I have strolling alone in the woods.

Also, I love the place. 

Paris remains my favorite city but New York is too much to be classified as merely a city. It is a nation, an empire and a planet all its own. Here you see everyone and anyone and can get everything and anything and do anything and everything. At anytime. It is past modern, it is up to the second. Yet it is rich with tradition and history. At one time or another it has all happened here, most of it many times. 

New York is sexy and vibrant and teeming with life and you feel enveloped in humanity and the spirit of living. You don't walk in New York, you glide. It is a liberating place this New York because you are one of so damn many. No one knows or cares if your zipper is down or your hair mussed or if you're toupee is slipping or your belly sticks out or your leg is deformed, it's nobody's business. Come as you are. No judgments, just don't mess with anyone. Watch the eye contact too.

I'm sure there are dangers here but it feels so safe to be among so many and so much. It is safe indeed to be among so many people. You a tourist? Well, who isn't? You need help finding something? Not a problem, someone can help.

We're staying in an Airnbnb in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is hip AND smart. It is self assured and comfortable in its own concrete. The people are nice without being cloying; they must be proud to live here and happy you like it. The first night we had pizza at a small restaurant that we picked without picking and it was the closest to the pizza you get in Italy I've had outside of Italy. Sumptuous. The next night it was a carefully picked restaurant for seafood and it was even better. New York is a gourmand's paradise. By making the slightest effort you can get a good meal and you can get all manner of food.

I have been to Strand's, one of the three or four best bookstores I've ever set foot in. I wandered and wandered in this store that boasts of how many books it has and well it should. It is a book lover's paradise and should be proud. It was no small feat to find a couple of purchases.

Kerouac and Dylan Thomas Drank here.

I have seen where Jack Kerouac lived, where Thomas Wolfe lived, where Allen Ginsberg lived and a bar that Kerouac frequented and where Dylan Thomas drank himself to death. I have seen the neighborhoods these literary giants roamed. Consecrated ground. What a great place for a writer to practice his or her craft. The isolation is easy to find in your rooms and the inspiration so easy to access outside of them.

I saw The Crucible starring Saorise Ronan, Sophie Okonedo, Ciaran Hinds and Ben Whishaw all of whom I've previously seen on the big screen. The play was magnificent. Our seats were near perfect without even being among the costlier ones. I was feeling a bit down before the play the darkness had crept in and cast its evil spell, but once I walked into the theater -- a theater on broadway, mind you -- my spirits magically lifted and soared the rest of the evening. So a cure for depression, bottle the theater.

I have seen the Ed Sullivan Theater where The Beatles performed, where David Letterman hosted the Late Show for two decades and where Stephen Colbert currently hosts. A mecca for me. Much smaller than I'd imagined it. Just another building among many. It is the people who have appeared inside it that make it titanic. 

I have gone through Times Square and been disgusted it being the least interesting and most inauthentic part of New York. It played like a bad version of Blade Runner and uninteresting one with no plot or meaning. 

I've been in Washington Square and watched drug dealing in Union Square Park.

I've been to the Whitney Museum and the Museum of Natural History and been dazzled by both in wholly different ways. Modern art and ancient realities, what a perfect metaphor for New York. What perfect places to visit.

I've seen where John Lennon was shot and it made me sad and I've seen the beauty of Central Park and it has made me happy. Nothing quite captures the beauty of Central Park except for being in it. It is, of course, all the lovelier for the skyscrapers looming in the distance. 

I've been to the Columbia University which boasts a gorgeous campus. My mother earned her MA there and the earlier mentioned Kerouac and Ginsberg met there.

I've seen why youngest daughter loves this city and why my father did too. My dad's first stop and first homes in the US were in New York and it was here that he met my mother. Good thing for my future that they found one another.

I've more days here to come and will have more to see and more to feel and smell and taste and hear and think, I just hope never to spend ten bucks on M&Ms and a bottle of water again.