April 2nd, 1986

Twenty-six years ago today, a boy in my 9^th grade class, a friend, called me up and told me he realized the best girl for him was right under his nose. Just a few evenings earlier he had watched me slide down the brass banisters at the Met steps and put his arm around me while we walked and talked about our parents and our crushes. Even so, I asked “who?” “You,” he replied. I can still hear it in my head. My giddy, heart racing response surprised me a little at the time. I knew it was important, being asked out and all. But I didn’t realize how important. We were a couple for the next 2 years or so. He was the first person I talked to about so many things. Sitting quietly on the phone with him late at night in my dark apartment, I felt like we were electrically connected. I was free to be me at my best and my worst. Without a reference point, I did not know to be self conscious. I did not know how far my home life was from the norm. Well, maybe it actually wasn’t too far from the norm for growing up in Manhattan in the 1980’s. My mother was unpredictable and often anxious or angry. My reactions were impulsive. One particularly bad afternoon, he came for me in a taxi. Loved. I think I did the same for him, in a way. I am grateful. When I need to dig deep in order to recognize myself, I look to see who I was back then. Of course, I am better for the maturity and perspective I have now, but I wouldn’t trade that first, formative love for anything.

September 11, 2010

Driving on the West Side Highway yesterday listening to Scott Simon, I remembered Saturday September 16, 2001. I lived in Boston then but headed to NY as soon as I could, as a matter of course, like a planet falling out of orbit toward the sun. I imagined the other cars on the road that day also carried New Yorkers who, like me, couldn't stand to read from afar the reports of non-natives leaving the city in fear. I cried listening to the solemn broadcast. My car seemed to drive itself home.

Later yesterday afternoon I drove to Brooklyn to visit friends. At the last minute I swerved right instead of heading left down the ramp to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. Instead of imagining the horror many endured stranded under New York Harbor 9 years ago, I watched hundreds of people enjoying the comfortable sunshine and walking safely across the Brooklyn Bridge.

After dinner I went to the Promenade.

I finished the night with great music and more old friends. A New York place with New York people. The greatest place on earth.

World Science Festival

Congratulations to Brian Greene for a fabulous job.  I went to three events and there was fun and learning at each.  Science is cool.

God Bless those Russian Grandmothers

for inventing Babka. I have always known I enjoyed the taste of a slice of chocolate or cinnamon babka. Last week, during a sweltering drive to Vermont in a convertible, I discovered that babka travels amazingly well in the heat.

By the way, who drives a convertible with the top down in 99 degree weather? Me, apparently, but with lost of sunscreen.

This week I discovered that babka is the perfect dessert to freeze. I have one in the freezer. As needed, I slice off a portion (or 2) and pop it in the microwave. 60 seconds later, I have a gooey chocolate wonder of a snack.

Transit Strike Day 1

quote of the day:

"It's very hard to ride a unicycle uphill."

Heard on NPR's All Things Considered this afternoon.

A Metaphor I love

Chris Matthews: "How does he get to the cold side of the pillow?"

This said asking how President Bush gets to a new successful strategy after his worst week as president.

Reprehensible Froth

You know it's time for a correction when this is the behavior encouraged by the housing bubble. I can hear some murmuring in the background that it is rent regulation, not the free market driven housing price explosion that leads to such behavior. Or maybe landlords are just plain more susceptible to being blinded by greed.

It's probably all three. I wonder what the Freakenomics guys would say.

I love New York.