The New York Narrative - No More Regrets

Sunday was one of those days that will live long in my memory because it was one of those very rare days when everything works out just the way that you want it to. I had a very unique opportunity to correct something that I truly regretted. Our visit to Central Park on this day gave me a wonderful second chance.

There are not many things or passed up opportunities in my life that I bemoan; I'm the kind of person that usually goes with my instincts and jumps when my heart or my gut feeling tells me I should do something. One of my first real and long-lasting regrets happened around twenty years ago when we were visiting my hometown and my husband and I were in a local thrift shop. Sitting in one of the back rooms was a stunning antique oak Arts & Crafts Mission style chair with a leather back and seat. The price was a whole $5.00. The chair which had a unusual adjustable back reminded me of one that my Grandparents had when I was a child; I got that warm, fuzzy feeling when I looked at it. Unfortunately, after humming and hawing, I let my husband talk me out of it. The excuses were myriad; we didn't have enough room in the car to get it back home so it would have to be stored at my parents, the leather seat and back needed recovering and that would be a lot of work, money, etc, etc. Several months later I was looking in a decorating magazine and saw the almost exact same chair. It was made by Stickley, a name reknowned in Arts & Crafts design circles and also very, very expensive. That chair was something I will always regret not buying; not only because of the value but because I was not true to myself. I did not follow my heart and although I have other pieces of furniture that look like very much like that original piece they will never have the meaning that particular chair would have had.

It is that experience and that pivotal moment in time, when I should've listened to myself and didn't, that I think about whenever I have to face the decision of whether I should listen to the stirrings of my intuition or not. When my oldest daughter was alive and we knew that we would only have limited time with her, I learned even more about how important it is to live without regrets. Then several years ago when I quit my event planning business and opened an on-line antiques business I learned to trust my gut feelings even more. There were numerous items that I purchased whenever I got those certain vibes and those things usually turned out to make a very tidy profit for me. My husband was often a nay-sayer or couldn't understand at times why I bought a particular item but when he saw the dollars that someone was willing to pay for them it certainly brought a smile to his face. Over the years he has learned to trust me more, even when I cannot explain things rationally. Today, whenever I get that inclination to call someone, send a card or do something I always try to listen to it. It is one of the reasons why I am fortunate not to have too many other things to lament about.

One of my few lasting acts of contrition happened in the spring of 2007 when my family and I visited New York for the first time. We spent an afternoon in Central Park and when strolling the Mall on that occasion, we came across a group of four gentlemen playing blues and jazz. The music truly moved me and it was all I could do to stand there and not start dancing. The group consisted of bass, guitar and sax players and a trumpet player/singer who wore a page-boy cap. We had only a dollar or two in cash between us all and although I really, really wanted their CD, none of us had the energy to walk to the other side of the park, find an ATM and then make our way back. We felt that it wouldn't have been worth the time and effort because the group would probably finish their set and leave meaning we'd have gone the distance for nothing. I also did not have a pen in my purse so I couldn't even write down the name of the group and although we tried to commit it to memory none of us remembered it later.

Not going to the effort of getting money and getting their CD was something that I have thought about and regretted many times since then. I couldn't remember the music specifically but I could recall how this group's music made me feel inside. When we returned home I tried to find similar tunes but nothing seemed to capture the magic I heard that day in the park. I filed the event, or should I say the non-event, in the back of my mind. A hard lesson learned and a regretful weight to carry with me.

When I knew we would be travelling back to New York, the hope did awaken in my breast that I might by some chance be able to see the same group again. The probability was slim, I felt, because it was almost two years ago that the non-event happened. Then again hope springs eternal and I made sure I had a good sum of money with me wherever we went in the city. As my narrative has stated, we had already been in the park during parts of several days and although there were lone musical artists there was nary a group to be found.

We started our Sunday by walking through the Park. Again, it was a beautiful sunny, sweater weather day and the leaves crunched beneath our shoes as we wandered the paths. The view from Belevedere Castle presented stunning vistas of the city and since my son and DIL had not spent any time in this beautiful natural landmark yet the five of us started walking back down towards the Mall. Just before we got to the lake I heard the strains of a song that sounded like it was from the 1920's and I knew immediately that my previous regret was going to have a pretty good chance of redemption.

There was something of a crowd gathered on one side of the Mall and as I made my way to the front I knew that I had found the group I'd been searching for. There before me played The Tin Pan Blues Band and I felt like a kid in a candy store. I immediately started dancing to the happy music and soon I was joined by my daughter and then my son and DIL broke into a swing jive. In between songs, I ran up to grab both of Tin Pan's CD's, throwing my prepared cash into the guitar case they used for donations and tips. Quite a number of other people did the same.

We stayed, danced and enjoyed the music until the end of their set after which I went up and told one of the band members my story. He was very gracious and seemed delighted that we "Canadians" should be interested in their music and that their reputation had spread so far. I signed up to receive band email alerts; there is no doubt that we will at some point return to New York so I want to make sure that I keep up to date and know where these talented musicians will be playing.

Listening and dancing to Tin Pan's lighthearted, nostalgic music on this bright sunny day in the middle of Central Park is something I will always remember and now I have their CD's to take me back there any time I want. As far as that original non-event is concerned I got my second chance and I did not hesitate to jump in head first. With a great sense of satisfaction and glee I can, from my heart, say that now I have one less regret in my life!

Photos by Keeley

To check out The Tin Pan Blues Band and their music follow this link:
http://tinpanbluesband.com/wordpress/

Salynne ©2009

The New York Narrative - A Lazy Saturday

This morning dawned bright, sunny and clear and the temperature during the day reached an incredible 15 degrees (celcius that is). You needed a jacket or sweater but the weather didn't really feel like Fall.

The three of us (BFF, Keeley and I) meandered over to the Morningside Farmers Market at 110 Ave and Morningside Park. Unfortunatley, due to the time of the year, there were not a lot of vendors with set up stalls but the ones there were of very high quality. We purchased fresh baked croissants for our breakfast and then I was off to procure vegetables for the gourmet dinner that I purposed to make this evening. Baby salad greens, yellow carrots with their tops still on and a two large bunches of baby turnips rounded out my choices for our side dishes. We stopped to pick up some organic almond butter and forestalled our entrance to the park, lingering to breathe in the sweet smell of the honeycomb from the organic bee farmers stall.

We turned to look at the natural grandeur of the park vista before us and descended down a large flight of stone steps into the deep valley with its soring side wall of mica schist rock. A park bench beckoned and we sat down to eat our morning comestibles and watched the local colour. I'm sure Keeley would tell you the highlight of her time there was watching a group of young men playing soccer on the field, especially the curly-haired soccer player who was showing off his fancy leg work. I'm not sure if the thing I was entertained most by was the guy who jogged around the running track carrying his ipod with speakers instead of ear buds or the 30-something Napolean Dynamite look-alike, complete with headband, who seemed to be trying to show off and make an impression. We're just not sure who he was trying to impress!

After a stop at an organic market for the rest of our planned evening meal we headed back to the apartment and then out for our day. We took the bus down to Columbus Circle, crossed the street and entered one of the most famous gateways into Central Park. We first happened across a mini marathon for children that was sponsored by the New York Firefighters Association and then we promenaded past the dairy house, the carousel, and one of the park's many ponds. The Mall, of course, is our favorite spot because it provides the quintessential view of New York. As we listened to the melodic strains of a local saxaphonist we each took turns cavorting in the fallen leaves and tried to capture on camera the enchantment and captivating spell that Central Park seems to cast on its visitors.


Although reluctant to forsake such beauty we headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art where we spent the following three to four hours. Sadly, some of the things we had wanted to see such as the textile and musical instrument sections were closed but we did enjoy Egyptian antiquities and the painting galleries which contained work from the impressionists. Seeing a large number of Van Gogh's and Monet's masterpieces was again almost overwhelming but I revelled in the majesty and movement of their plein air works.

My BFF was overcome with emotion when we entered one particular gallery. Hanging on the wall, with light coming from behind, stood one of Louis Comfort Tiffany's most famous pieces of art glass, Autumn Landscape. The piece was luminous, with a glass stream that looked like it was tumbling down a rock river and the sun lit the sky aglow as if taking its final bow before sunset. We spent a fair amount of time then sitting on a bench watching passerby, resting and massaging our over worked tootsies.

After we arrived home that sense of peace that comes from my delight in taking the time to prepare good food came over me and I set about preparing our gourmet fete. The menu consisted of dijon mustard roasted chicken breast; baby greens salad with balsamic and olive dressing; a crispy on the outside, moist on the inside baguette; oven roasted yellow carrots with their tops on and sauteed baby turnips with garlic. Son and DIL expended a large amount of energy during their shopping day trying to find the best Tiramisu in the city. Encased in ladyfingers our "cake" first tasted of espresso and finished with silky top notes of mascarponi cheese and whipped cream.

Sitting around the dining table allowed us to talk about our day, what each person had enjoyed the most and savour all of the delights that make up this vibrant and complex city.

Salynne ©2009

The New York Narrative - Great Food

After we all arrived home from our busy day, Keeley, BFF and I walked up to Broadway and 101 Ave. to try out a fabulous little restaurant called PiCNiC Market & Cafe. I won`t wax lyrical about the food but this Alsatian Restaurant is a place you should try if you enjoy French food.

http://www.picnicmarket.com/

It was Friday night and the entire joint was filled with people who were speaking french; that was enough to tell me that the food was going to be great! I had steak au poivre with pomme frite although I nearly died when the waitress asked if I wanted catsup. I screamed out "NO! No! No!" in my best french accent making the guests at the table next to us smile. They nodded their approval but I guess some things never change in the US.

The staff accomodated Keeley`s request for the delicious looking gruyere macaroni & cheese in their take out section and my BFF had a very traditional Coq au Vin. We also splurged on desert enjoying bread pudding, creme brulee, and chocolat fondant which was essentially a decadent volcano cake.

It was a beautiful warm evening but I think I would be remiss if I didn't say that we all "rolled" rather than strolled up the block toward home.

Salynne ©2009

The New York Narrative - How to Hail a Taxi

I got up really early and outfitted myself in business attire for my medical conference. My biggest concern was certainly not how I looked or whether I was mentally prepared for the information to be presented but I found I was really nervous about getting out onto the street and finding a taxi.

First of all, would there be taxi's on my street that early in the morning? Ha....in the words of a Jewish bubby, "Oy vey. You schmuck dis is New York!" Yellow and black Taxi's were everywhere at all hours and times. Then there was my worry about my hailing technique. I've never hailed a taxi in my entire life so I was a little concerned about whether or not I would have the necessary skill. I paid a lot of attention the previous day to anyone who was stepping off the curb for a cab and I learned there is certainly is a personal art to it.

One older businessman did the traditional two finger whistle and walked right out into the middle of the road. An older woman in her designer jacket and high heeled boots toddled onto the street, stuck her arm out and did a frantic wave several times before one of the yellow and black cars stopped. A young mother who was taking her daughter to private school reached out and pointed at each taxi that she wanted, following several with her finger before one pulled over to the side of the road to pick them up. From another well-dressed man I learned that standing on a corner was not a great place to try and hail a cab since an "almost" accident occured when the taxi slammed on his brakes in the middle of the intersection.

When I got down to the street in front of our apartment I tried to compose myself and steady my shaking arm so that I would look like I knew what I was doing. Sucking air through my teeth I reminded myself that it was I would had conquered the Tower of Terror in Disneyland four times despite my fear of elevators and the Eiffel tower despite my fear of heights. Surely, sticking my arm out and calling a cab couldn't be that difficult. I found a vacant spot just off the corner where there was a fire hydrant and stepped off the curb. The sunlight was shining quite brightly in my eyes so it was difficult to tell if the taxi's approaching had their roof lights on or off. I squinted and tried to look into the cars to see if they had passengers. One taxi coming in the lane next to me was clearly empty and I raised my arm bending it at the elbow in a two finger sideways salute. Whether I looked like a dork or someone who'd done this before, I'll never know but the taxi I wanted pulled over and I jumped inside.

My driver seemed happy to see me until I told him I wanted to go to New Jersey. Ah..now that might be a problem as he didn't know how much it would cost; he would have to look it up. So he pulled over and spent about 5 minutes consulting his rate book and contacting the office. After that though he plugged the address I needed into his GPS unit, I sunk back comfortably into the seat, breathed a sigh of relief and gave myself a mental pat on the back. I'd conquered my fear and I'd been successful on my first try!

Later that night after the conference was over I stood in the lobby of the Hospital dialing a number for the local taxi service. It wasn't long before the taxi drove up and I got in giving directions to the apartment. I was sad that I didn't have another opportunity to try my new found taxi calling talent and somehow that ride back home was not as satisfying as my morning jaunt!

Salynne ©2009

The New York Narrative-Day 1 Continues....

Our apartment is everything we could have have dreamed of and more! We have four bedrooms with a livingroom/diningroom, a full kitchen and a bathroom, all decorated with black & white photos of Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. It also didn't hurt that the price of the apartment was $48.00 per person per night--you cannot beat that price when you're staying in the heart of a major city! The charm of our brick building, circa early 1900’s, with the small balcony off of my bedroom and a decorative fire escape off the kitchen is absolutely amazing. When I look out my bedroom window I can see into someone else’s apartment across the street and I’ve decided I'm going to affectionately call it my Breakfast at Tiffany’s “Moonriver” view!

After a several hour nap the three of us (BFF, Keeley and I) headed out by bus to the MOMA; the Museum of Modern Art. We had a fabulous panini and salad lunch with marinated olives and vegetables in their Cafe 2 bistro and then explored the various floors. A display of Monet’s waterlilies was the lead exhibition and although it was crowded we each had time to sit and feel ourselves lost in the rippling reflections of Monet’s gorgeous pond. As Keeley and I visited Monet’s home and garden on our trip to Europe last year, it did not take much to imagine ourselves back there next to the shallows, marvelling at the glories of the water lilies and the way that Monet was able to capture the intensity and complexity of the reflection off the water.

The most surprising thing for me was the work of Jackson Pollock. I’ve always made fun of his work; I mean really, what does it take to make some splashes of paint on a canvas? It was something that I thought a three year old could do. That all changed however when we entered a room which contained a huge piece of his work. When you got up close to it you could see the depth, the colour and the variety of paint types and textures that he used. I’ve come to understand that his talent lies not in being able to make the splashes but in how to make those splashes look interesting and in knowing when to stop.

Seeing Van Gogh’s Starry Night was a dream come true and I’m sure I spent at least 20 minutes just staring at the heavy broad brushstrokes of his thick gloppy paint. Up close you would assume a child painted it but when you step back you have the famous French small town vista. In the same area there were paintings by Gauguin, Manet and many of my other favorite French artists. To be in the presence of such great art at times took my breathe away.

We laughed as we wandered through the rooms with the works of Picasso and Andy Warhol. In our opinion the most absurd things that we saw which are considered “modern” art was the purple string that was attached to the wall and floor in a rectangle shape and the totally black canvas in a black frame; a five year old could absolutely do those and I'm not sure I would consider those pieces Art.

After a while, when we started “interacting” with some of the compositions by copying poses and creating illusions a number of the security guards started giving us hints and encouraging us. In one photo Keeley looks like she has her foot on a stack of bricks; the security guard told her to hold in her breathe just before I snapped the camera to get it right and I posed in front of a 1950’s fridge & pretended I was on the Price is Right showing off its style. We had a lot of fun.

From the MOMA we headed down to Times Square and met my son and daughter-in-law. I’ve been to this bastion of American capitalism during the daytime but I have to say that being there at night is a completely different story. We did not stay long but caught the subway to Dallas Barbecue for some good old fashioned baby back ribs, french fries, a mess of cornbread and coleslaw. Mmmm....no doubt my cholesterol sky-rocketed but it was well worth it. The meal may not have been the best healthwise but I did wash it down with a giant size Margarita; apparently tequila stimulates the circulatory system and is an anti-inflammatory; all important things considering the sore inflamed feet I've already got!

We window shopped our way to the subway, rode to our stop, walked home to our apartment after stopping at the local 24 hour corner market for Ben & Jerry’s and fell into bed, too tired to even eat our intended desert!

Salynne ©2009

The New York Narrative-Day 1

Thursday, November 5, 2009 8:40am

We've arrived in New York after a five hour flight, but I can tell you the airlines don't call late night flights red-eye's for nothing. Although I carefully chose our seats beforehand they must have changed the type of plane because we ended up sitting in the row just in front of the emergency exit door which meant our seats could not recline. It’s amazing how 3 inches of recline can make all the difference in the world to comfortable seating and sleep. Best friend, darling daughter and I watched movies and read to pass the time; snoozing was fitful.

One good thing though was that we had a tail wind that measured over 125 miles an hour so we were over a half hour early, arriving at 5:30 am instead of 6:05am. Since we are meeting our apartment manager between 9 and 9:30 we have plenty of time to kill. The five of us took our time getting our luggage and then a van taxi which dropped us off at a diner about two blocks from where we are staying.

The Metro Diner is everything that you've ever dreamed of if you are a Diner aficionado. The black and white checked floors, the red leather booths and neon signs added to the charm. Our very Italian male waiter was congenial and bright and cheery for the morning crowd. Some of the waitresses were not—they reminded us immediately of the rude stereotypical New Yorkers that you see often see on TV. Our Canadian friendliness and good manners in saying thank you when the food was brought was completely ignored and I have no doubt they could tell that we were not “locals”.

I think the most interesting thing was the number of fathers and their young school age children who popped in for breakfast. Because we live in the suburbs we’re used to seeing children and mothers walking to school up the tree lined streets instead of walking through bumper to bumper taxi lined streets or having breakfast in local restaurants. In this area known as Manhattan Valley there are a lot of children dressed in private school outfits, no doubt a reflection that this is an up and coming trendy area.

We prolonged our diner breakfast of eggs, hash browns, toast and bacon for as long as we could; and may I add, the meal came with 2 eggs and 5 strips of bacon! You would think that I would remember that one of the biggest differences between Canadian and American culture is the size of restaurant portions. I always promise myself that I’ll share next time. Unfortunately, I’ll get the hang of it by weeks end and then the next time we travel to the US I’ll forget and go through the whole process again.

Since we still have an hour and a half to kill we're sitting in a Starbucks we found up the street waiting until I can call the apartment management company to come and open the unit for us. This coffee shop is filled with locals and since the Yankees won the world series last night everyone seems to be in a very good mood and wearing something with the New York Yankee Logo. Things are a somewhat different from my home Starbucks; the biggest contrast is that no one chats to anyone else. You’ve got business people reading the newspaper, several university students doing homework or studying and a young Asian woman reading a New York Day to Day guidebook-she's obviously not local. Another middle-aged couple make an interesting pair; His day timer sits beside him and is obviously working on his laptop or at least checking his emails. She's dressed for business but reading the paper, and they've nary said a word to each other. Another business man sits working on something as he is writing notes on index cards and shuffling through them, obviously working up a presentation of some kind.

The quintessential young New York woman has just walked in; she young, hip and wearing the mini dress with grey opaque tights, flats, a shorty jacket with a well-draped scarf; I’ll have to point her out to Keeley as this will be one of Keeley's dream outfits. Then there is the our group which I'm sure make quite the interesting spectacle with our 5 suitcases and our red bleary eyes, especially since I’m typing on my laptop at times with my eyes closed. Everyone, is clearly in their own world and not willing to step outside of their insulated space.

I'm feeling ready for all of the excitement New York has to offer but I am also finding a certain security in being here in Starbucks. If I squint it looks very much the same as the one close to my home and I'm really finding it a comfort to have come to the other side of the continent and walk into a "familiar" place.

Salynne ©2009

New York - Here I Come

Leaving Seattle 9:45pm.....

Salynne