The following occurred several years ago near an apartment where I once lived. Perhaps a mere dozen stories tall, my neighboring building offered eight studio apartments per floor. Over the decades, time and rental wear and tear would take its toll, and by the early 1970s new owners had cleaned up the old girl, painting her decorative facade like the belle of a ball to which she was never invited.
Well it’s that time of the year … mid-term elections. I sure do hope all dem democrats ─ including Republicans, Democrats and independents ─ vote for a democrat/Democrat. I say this because the Republican Party seems to have lost its way.
The Whitney Museum, with 369 employees, is a large complex of many departments, missions and roles. It mounts an annual exhibit of its employees’ work at Westbeth Gallery, its neighbor in the far West Village.
I received this email from my 84-year-old friend and neighbor who lives alone in a West Village apartment. I laughed as I read it and wanted to share this with you knowing many of you can relate and laugh too.
Last month Kelly and I headed east to find some good, but affordable Italian food for my son’s 39th birthday. We not only found an affordable place, we found a gem, well worth a walk across to 5th Street between A and B.
What if each of us already is what we couldn’t even dare to dream we could become? What if there is reality that is free of conflict, free of the suffering, of trying so hard to be the person we are conditioned to believe we are supposed to be? And what if all we have to do is to learn to clear away the obstacles preventing us from living the truth that we already are?
And here is the surprise. Where once one would expect the candidates to declare their party and choose their party’s theme colors ─ red for Republican, blue for Democrat, something else for independents ─ that tradition has been upended here. In TV ads, social media, yard signs and billboards, there are the usual claims to cut taxes and make the economy strong, but there’s something missing.
I was walking around and I saw this crazy bus with people dancing on the roof. I followed the bus until it stopped at Washington Square. People were dressed as Glinda the Good Witch from the Broadway musical, Wicked.
I first heard of pickleball about 15 years ago from my neighbor Mark, who was an avid player. He would make the trek from the West Village to Stuytown regularly to play on what were probably the only courts in town at the time. He described the game and invited me to join but I couldn’t get past the name “pickleball.”
On the evening of Thursday, Sept. 10, dozens gathered in the Village to stand together and urge fellow New Yorkers to let their memory of September 11 be in service of creating a better, more inclusive future.
