College Town

Last night we went to visit friends in Hoboken and took the Path home at around midnight. We got off at the West 9th Street stop and proceeded to search for a cab in vain.

It was drizzling out and I didn't have high hopes - but Ben was with us so we didn't give up. Why was I surprised to see the streets filled with college students everywhere? Both the East and West Village - wall to wall kiddies.

Are there more students? How can there be? Do they just look different so you can spot them? Maybe. Or are they venturing farther off from their dorms because it's safer? That's part of it. But it seems the demographics have changed. These kids are rich kids - with no trace of a counter culture among the group. Very well dressed young people going out to spend a good deal of money.

I know this cultural shift is old news. Just humor me while I try to catch up. Sigh.

I'm Contacting Human Rights Watch

....if the god dam car alarm outside my window doesn't stop in the next two minutes. I'm realizing that I haven't really had a good night's sleep in ages....seriously....ages.

I wish I could think of a quiet place to live around NY where the people are nice and creative (that might be too much to ask).

Soho = Hell on Earth

Granted I never go there. Never went there. Didn't have the desire and certainly didn't have a reason to. It's a HUGE mall.

Only this mall is one floor with two narrow sidewalks. At one point Ben saw the huge Scholastic Store and exclaimed with some urgency "Mom, look! We can go in there for a while." - like we were seeking shelter from the shadow of a soon to be cresting tsunami. A tsunami of shopping people.

So why was I there? Well, I took Ben to the Museum of Cartoons and Comics. It's on the 4th floor at 594 Broadway. The whole musuem is basically a large room with a permanent collection on one side and an exhibit on the other. It was okay. Not well curated. Lots of illustrations and flat screens with cartoons from across the decades playing. It's a small space so it's hard to distinguish who is saying what from what t.v.

Of course that didn't stop Ben from sitting in front of an episode of teenage mutant ninja turtles and falling into a trance state. He mentioned how much he enjoyed watching "vintage cartoons" like that.

For the record. I totally missed the whole Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles era. Yet another cultural void I share with my son.

I think I want to move to Concord, Massachusetts and become a Transcendentalist.

Happy New Year Y'All!

The holidays are finally over. No casualities! Just nice visits.

Christmas in North Carolina grows on you after a while. Even though we break it up with a day or two in Annapolis, the drive is still a long one with a little boy and chunky dog coming along for the ride. It amazes me each year how Ben never complains or freaks out. By the time we get to Sanford, North Carolina I'm ready to file for divorce. Brian says that exit is my official breaking point.

We brought back huge boxes filled with Brian's childhood train set and all the toy cars and trucks he kept so well taken care of. He pulled them out of his mom's attic and sorted through them for hours. When he looked up, he didn't even have to say it....

We're skipping the condo and coop world and looking for a house. Gulp.

On one level it feels good to finally have clarity on the situation. On the other hand it means a very different neighborhood....at least it might mean that. But then - what neighborhood am I talking about?

On New Year's Eve, we walked home from a friends house down Avenue A. A really super french/dutch couple with wonderful kids around Ben's age. There was such a great mix of people - I don't want to lose that. As we walked home someone shouted out of a fancy SUV "Happy New Year Everyone, and I hope 2007 is a wonderful and productive year for each and every one of you!!!"

Granted - that's a lot nicer than saying "Bite my ass in 2007" - - but to have someone shout out an internal memo salutation on my street well....it's a bit heartbreaking and sadly funny.

This place is changing. I'm changing too - though I loathe to admit it. But Jesus Christ - I'll never change that much!

Merry Christmas Eve

When I was a young girl in the East Village, my family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. That's the Sicilian tradition.

My Sicilian grandmother set up a nativity scene that could rival a Who Concert. She placed a 6 by 5 foot piece of plywood on the table in the parlor (yes...I said parlor). She covered it in a few yards of green felt. The edges of the platform were lined with Christmas lights. They were those huge 1960's christmas lights not the small cutesy fire proof types we have now. The lights went along the edges and then climbed up one side of the manger, over the roof around the front and back down the other side. To this day I always imagine Jesus in a manger with big multi color lights around him keeping him warm.

I also believed that Jesus was Italian. And God was Italian too.

My grandmother had lots of straw all over the inside of the manger. There must have been scores of shepards, angels, lambs, ox, donkeys, three wise kings (like 4 sets of those), a few saints that were the same size of the rest of the crowd slipped in for good measure. There were even a few back up Marys and Josephs blended into the crowd.

I used to take the straw and put some all over the board to feed the extra animals. And of course we had a train track running around the platform as a nod from the captains of industry to the baby Jesus. Looking back, I guess that this is the type of reception that my grandmother thought Jesus should have had - tons of well wishers, animals and angels cheering him into the world.

There were so many figures that I had Catholic guilt about the ones that didn't have a good view of the baby Jesus from where they were standing.

As I got older, I began to wonder where all these hundreds of people went the day AFTER Jesus was born. Did they just go back to work and kind of forget all about him while they got lost in their day to day routines?

I miss the smell of tinsel melting on a 1960's christmas light on that sacred space.

I can feel my grandmother's spirit with me tonight. A holy night for the two of us.

Happy Christmas Everyone. Peace on Earth. Love, EVI

Sleep Debt

I remember reading that you can't really write off the sleep you've missed. That the lack of sleep builds up somehow in your body and results in sleep debt.

Last night I went to sleep at nine and woke up at seven the next day. I swear I could do that for the next month. I'm afraid to find out what my sleep debt is. Some frightful figure I suppose...probably somewhere around 200 hours in the last six months.

Uneven

After dinner the other night, Ben had something weighing on his mind. He told me that he felt funny about some of the kids in his class because he wasn't "even with them" -- that he was "lower" than them.

Ben is in third grade and almost nine years old. He has no feelings of inadequacy about money or class because we don't. There are wealthy and not so wealthy kids in Ben's class who are obsessed with money because their parents are. That world has never touched Ben because he's so loved and satisfied with his family and his life. I'm happy to add that no one in his class has ever said hurtful things to him in that regard.

But last week they went to the Tenement Museum and I suppose some children were aghast at the thought of living in such a small space. Our apartment isn't much more than 450 square feet - but it's provided Ben with 1 million square feet of happiness.

He said he thought it wasn't fair that some kids live in big big houses and other kids didn't. I explained to him that life is inherently "uneven". Some kids live in big houses, some live in small houses - - some kids don't have a home.

Just like some kids (like Ben) are super smart and great at drawing, while it take other kids in his class a little longer to grasp new concepts. Some kids in his class are healthy or great athletes, while some feel they are far too short, too slow or have long term medical problems. Some kids don't have a mommy and daddy in the same house living together, some do.

All kids have something they feel "uneven" about because everyone comes to the table with a unique story of who they are. Our job is to make everyone feel okay about who they are.

Then he got teary eyed and said "but mommy when you live in New York no one likes you when you love the Red Sox like me and daddy do."

He got me there........

The Party's Over

I may be getting a promotion at work. The thought of it unhinges me a bit. These two years away from the executive management mode helped me realize how miserable I was attempting to juggle motherhood with management.

The revised adage is true...you can have it all, just not all at the same time. Picking Ben up from school once a week is such a wonderful gift. Being able to volunteer at his school has been corny and fun. I remember when I barely knew any of the parents because I was busy running in and out the door so fast.

But Ben's $25,000 tuition is crushing us. His education means everything to me. So you do what you have to do.

Being a working mom is all about setting boundaries....and staunchly defending them.

Thanksgiving Day Unscathed!!

Well folks. It happened. We had a great Thanksgiving Dinner with my relatives (my parents and half my siblings). The turkey was perfect and all the side dishes were out of sight. Lots of bright beautiful colors on my plate.
Even the wine was lovely. At some point I'll have to figure out what led to this comet like occurence. But right now I just want to enjoy it.
Ben is not partial towards Thanksgiving fare. His plate consisted of turkey, stringbeans and a piece of Italian bread I brought out from the kitchen. No stuffing, no mash potatoes, no cranberry anything, no brussel sprouts, no gravy, no pies of ANY kind. One day he'll change his mind. Brian had a nice time too - which makes me very happy. I wouldn't say that the only way to his heart is through his stomach - but it certainly is among the express routes!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Fly Boy

Brian is on the west coast presenting at a conference. Ben and I are flying solo for four days.

Appropriately enough, it's been raining since Brian left. Ben misses him terribly and carries his dad's baseball mitt around with him as soon as he gets home. He sleeps with it wrapped up in his blanky.

This evening, after dinner, we walked Saki around Tompkins Square Park. We ended up on the black top where there's a baseball diamond painted on the ground along with painted bases. Ben is obsessed with baseball and the Red Sox. He expects that his future will include a few years in the major leagues before he starts his train company.

Ben is tall and big for his age. He's a slow runner and frequently trips over his feet. He plays kickball at recess where he's usually the last one chosen and the last one to up to kick.

As the rain came down he asked that I watch him run around the bases as fast as he could. He was doing everything he could to go fast. Without realizing it, he lifted his arms up like Superman in the hopes of picking up speed.

So I stood there with my dog. Watching my son running bases in the pouring rain with his arms outstretched. Each stumbling step was filled with hope and determination. Just a few minutes more and he'd take flight.

Ben. My greatest teacher and my greatest blessing.

Thank you Jesus!

I stayed up until midnight watching the campaign results on Tuesday. By then it appeared that the Democrats had won the House. It looks like they've won the Senate too. Unbelievable.

I've been so busy with my impossible daily routine that I didn't see this extraordinary news as even a possibility. What a relief to be pulling back from the edge of insanity.

Randy Balmer is an evangelical Christian and noted scholar who teaches at Barnard and Columbia. His most recent book, "Thy Kingdom Come: How the Religous Right Distorts the Faith and Threatens America" has received great reviews and is very thoughtfully written. He has a bumper sticker on his door. I pass it everyday en route to my office.

"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in a flag and a carrying a cross."
-- Sinclair Lewis

VOTE!!!!!!

Please VOTE!

VOTE like your life depended on it.

Because it does!!

And vote for cool people who don't want to make the earth explode or control women's bodies, or take away our civil rights or shed blood for oil.

Party On!

Yesterday was the last day of the Muslim holiday Ramadan. I'm pretty sure yesterday marked the last day of month long fasting and praying. In the morning I heard the call to prayer outside my window. The sun was rising and Muslim men were coming into the Tompkins Square Park to celebrate/pray. On the black top, long rolls of brown paper were unfurled in rows. Men would find a space and kneel down to pray aloud. There were about ten rows formed before I got on the bus to go to work. I've only seen this gathering at the park a few times since I've lived here. It's really a beautiful ritual. They were pointed east towards Mecca. It made me feel proud to be in a country and a city where people could worship and express themselves freely - let's keep it that way.

Remembrance of Things Past

CBGB's closed at the beginning of the week. Sad. Very sad.

My husband Brian estimated that he and his band - the Cavedogs played at least 50 gigs there. As a partner of a rock musician, I put in my own time at a zillion CMJ showcases in the 80's and early 90's. It was hard to get too excited about venturing inside the club after Ben was born - unless it was an early accoustic show. But I guess I always thought it would be there. Like the Statue of Liberty.

After all of Brian's touring he would make me laugh with his countdown of the worst men's rooms he'd encountered as a rock musician. CBGB's did have a solid place in the top ten. I smiled to see that the NYTimes included a shot of the club's graffitti filled, poster plastered, sinklesss bathroom. When I showed it to Brian he said "Are you kidding me? That's the women's room - - a virtual lap of luxury! For starters the men's room never had an actual toilet seat."

He liked CBGB's and was grateful for the exposure it gave his band (which was eventually signed to Capitol Records) and other emerging musicians just like him. You could be a beginner there.

Here is an exerpt from a recent web interview with Patti Smith. She played the last show at CBGB's on Sunday night.

Rolling Stone: Did you ever feel threatened (in CBGB's neighborhood or in the club during the 70's)?

Patti Smith: I never felt threatened. I feel more threatened now. I feel confined by the intense commercialism. The stores, the shopping, these people all night long in their limos, acting like they own our little streets. New York to me was the worker city, the artist city. It was a place to get your shit together. Now it's a place people come to with their shit together. They have a lot of money, and they want condos. They want high life. They come to film here and have fashion shows. You try to walk on your street, and they act like they own it.

Cities should be edgy. They are edgy parts of America. They are not suburbia. They are supposed to be a melting pot of struggles, a collective force of ideas and energy. I watched horrified recently -- NYU students coming in with truckloads of fancy stuff. Magic Chef stoves and boxes with new computers. I mean, these are not struggling college kids. Get a hot plate. Drink some Nescafé.....

You said it Patti. What they don't get is that what makes this city great is what they're destroying.

News flash: money isn't enough. it can't eclipse the art. smart people know that.

Once upon a time in America....

Last week my son Ben and his third grade class went to Ellis Island. It was his first trip there. I wish I was with him. There's so much we could have talked about before the ferry arrived on the other side.

He saw a movie about the immigrant experience and found the name of his maternal Italian great grandmother. I'm pretty sure my Irish great grandfather is listed there as well. You can also find his name in the index of Gangs of New York...a dubious achievement that explains a lot about my family's character.

Ben's gene pool combines almost every country in Europe with a stop in the Ukraine and Cypress. He is a true American mutt and I must say that the results are extraordinary.

Ben complained that on the ferry ride home his class was not allowed to sit up on the top deck with the rowdy public school kids. He was furious and said "Mom, it was hot and smelly down in the lower deck. All because we went to Ellis Island doesn't mean they have to send us back to Manhattan in steerage class!"

I went back to Ohio....

and my city was gone. Well. At least my part of the city.

A few nights ago I took a cab from the East Village across town. We cut across 13th street. I couldn't believe all the buildings that have been torn down and replaced with new construction. The new structures are at least 15 stories high. Probably more, but I'm not used to counting that high in my neighborhood.
First you see your community get fucked up by drugs and violence. Then finally it climbs out of that hell hole to be destroyed by the greedy real estate developers.

Seriously, will anything be left of the East Village in a few years from now? The artists are pretty much gone. The drag queens are pretty much gone. Regular people are being replaced with rich people each day. Now the buildings are gone. Maybe they'll leave a little piece of land where they can hire people to do East Village reenactments - like Colonial Williamsburg.

Sick Day

I'm feeling ugh today. Very ugh. 24 hour bug. Probably because I've been working/writing until midnight for the last two weeks.
You know how it is. All those balls in the air. Motherhood, a job, chairing the Halloween party at my son's school, serving as a trustee there and writing squeezed in somewhere in the cracks. My writing mentor just reassigned me to a group with three other people....who are PUBLISHED. The screws are turning. My apartment looks like we're moving. Must be wishful thinking on my part.

Bella Luna

Early Friday morning the new moon arrives.

New moons are the perfect time for beginnings. And this new moon has lots of power packed into it.

So start something.

It's not about doing it perfectly. It's just about doing it. Even if you trip, stumble and make a mess.

You won't be sorry.

Apology

Big Apple -

I'm sorry I said fuck you.

You've been through a lot. Today reminds me of all we went through and how it made me realize in stark terms - how much I love you and that there is NO PLACE like you in the world. When other people ran out of town - we stayed - even though we were scared of what might happen - because we weren't going to abandon you.

Five years later and it still really hurts. God bless all of those souls and their families.

Fuck the Big Apple

When you go away from this place for three weeks, away to a place with no cell phone use, no long distance access and non stop media in your face, it changes you. If only temporarily.

I got back on Sunday. Still relaxed. Still peaceful.

Now I'm surrounded by urban overdrive. I am in complete contradiction to my environment. It feels like being stoned but without the paranoa. I walk down the street, but really I'm floating. Everything around me is going way way too fast to even consider engaging in.

This can't last. Can it?

Is this how it feels to live in Ohio?

It saddens me to realize the level of anxiety, stress and fear that I usually function on from day to day.

Needless Suffering.

Maybe I need to pack up.