What Made Me Turn Around?

I get off work at 9 p.m. and often decide to walk toward home.  Usually it’s when I get on the phone to one of my sisters because we have a lot to say to each other and it takes longer than the six blocks to my station to get it all said.

This happened the other night.  I was talking to my sister Margaret about everything we were both doing and I passed the Columbus Circle Subway Station and kept on walking. 

As usual that time of night I take the busiest street so I can talk and be around a lot of people.  Big city, bright lights are good.

Where does that plan always lead me but straight through Times Square, in my opinion one of the safest few blocks in the world.  The area is dizzyingly bright and crowded with regular people all gawking at the sheer ostentatiousness of the commercial center of the universe.  I can slip through like a breeze in a wheat field.

This night was no different.

I continue to 42^nd Street where I head toward the Bryant Park station.

Down I go and wait for the train.  It’s probably 10:30 by this time.

The train arrives and I get in the last car.  The seating arrangement on this particular train is 3 seats in a row and two perpendicular to those, like the letter “L” with other “L’s” back to back down the car’s length.

I take a seat among the three on the wall, the one closest to the bottom of the “L”.  Seated there is a man I wonder about.  Because of the seating arrangement his knees are almost touching my right thigh so I take a quick look at him to see if it’s cool to be sitting so close.

The first thing I notice is that he’s very thin and pale. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt which allows me the opportunity to study his many tattoos.  Quite a few New York Yankees logos; the script, the NY, the baseball with the Uncle Sam hat, he might’ve had a few more but I had to be a little circumspect in my inspection of him.  A pretty big Cross, and The Doors logo. He had a lot of artwork.

He was wearing a blue NY Yankees ball cap too which was hiding his face as he was bent almost double over an E-book pad which he was reading from intently. It looked like he was reading a novel. His hair was buzz short so I could see that he had a band-aid on either side of his neck, like maybe he got sliced, or maybe new art.

He had shorts on and on his feet were those Vibram rubber barefoot shoes, you know, the weird looking ones with five toes. 

I didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or marvel at him. If I had no manners I would’ve taken a photo of him because he was so worthy of one.  He was an incredible mixture of culture, and interest, and street, and thought, that I was absolutely intrigued.  He is the only person in the world that looks like him I am sure.

He kept his head down in his reading the entire trip to West 4^th where I got off. 

I hit the platform and headed to the exit but before I got too far from the train I could’ve sworn I heard my name called behind me. I turned in time to see him get off the train.  For the first time I was able to see his face.

With total incredulity I saw that it was my friend Mike who runs security at my workplace.  He sits downstairs and makes sure all is well for everyone in the building. He looks over to see me and gives me a big smile and we end up talking until his transfer train arrives to take him home to Brooklyn.

Mike had just come from The Bronx where he had seen the Yankees play the Royals.  We talked baseball, work, his book which I want to say was le Carré or de Mille (Dean Koontz!), the band-aides which turned out to be a little medical procedure, and mostly enjoyment in that sheer happy happenstance that we were sitting leg to leg on a night that we came from disparate ends of the city and without plan, without clue we picked the same line, same car, same seat.

What a town.

Oh, and I don’t know what made me turn around.  Mike said he didn’t call my name.



 

You Miss Some Things if You Blink

July 16, 2013

Christopher Street, West Village, NYC

After a lovely evening with my dear friend Linda I walked her to the station back to New Jersey.  Leaving her at the subway entrance I headed back to my own neighborhood. 

In one short block I passed through several groups of flamboyant young men bedecked in short shorts and ribbons in their hair.  Then, getting caught behind a very tall African American man in a sleeveless shirt I couldn't help but notice his incredible physique.  He obviously works very hard at maintaining a very cut figure and shoulders that were defined and showed every fiber of the muscles. 

Needing to pass I said, "Hello..."

Jumping aside as though electrocuted he cried in a high falsetto, "Didn't your Mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?!?" 

I tried to be cool since I apparently scared him and glanced at him with a friendly smile to assure him that he was not in danger but he was cowering toward a building and would not look my way.

Turning away from him I stepped toward the intersection just ahead.  Coming toward me was a man struggling to run while carrying a woman in his arms.  Her face was tucked into his chest. 

"Open the door!  Open the door!" he was yelling.  I realized there was a waiting cab at the curb and stepped back to open the door and let them in.  He yelled to the driver, "My wife is having a miscarriage!! We need to get to the hospital!"

I continued on my way invisible in their frightened despair. 

Two more blocks and I was sitting at an old wooden bar listening to a Jazz Trio of drifting guitar and Senegalese rhythms. 

I've thought of them all all day today.

Walk Along the River....

In a city of 8 million stories the scene changes without a moments notice.

In a space of 24 hours I went from this story:

I sometimes question my sanity living in New York City.  Saturday night I went looking for music. Stopped by a Jazz Club on 10th Street in the Village. For $20 I could go in and hear a band I never heard of. So I asked the guy at the door what kind of music the band played. "We're a Jazz Club." "I'm sorry, yeah I know that. What kind of Jazz does the band play?" "It's Jazz. Would you... even know the difference?"
Before my head exploded I headed toward another club thinking Blues would be more in line with a positive scene. So I headed to a club on Bleeker. For $10 I could hear the band who was on break. "What kind of Blues is it?" "It's Blues." "Yeah I know, Chicago, Delta? Texas?" "I can't help you there I haven't looked at the band." I headed home. Thinking about doing that literally as well.

To this story:

 I decided to walk to my village apartment from work last night. 6pm. I work at 65th St. and live on 3rd street.
Still learning the city I heard that the Hudson River Park and Bike Path goes all the way down the west side of Manhattan to the Battery and then back up again on the East River.
I usually go down the center of the city through Times Square and down seventh avenue until I get tired and get on the subway about 23rd but yesterday I decided I would take the Riverwalk.
It was wonderful; geographically speaking like my hometown of New Smyrna Beach except for the fact that, well it's Manhattan and across the way I can see Jersey City and all the buildings to my left, the Empire State building, Madison Square Garden thousands of buildings I have no idea.
The river was on my right under the late afternoon sun, the city on my left, lots of people walking biking in all sorts of traffic sort of thing it was great the breeze was wonderful it was July hot but I was fine. I carry an umbrella for shade.
As I walked along many things would just come and go from view but at one point I came from behind a building on the right and there in all its glory was the USS Intrepid.

I couldn't believe it! It was larger than any structure I had ever seen before and it was floating on the water.

A Space Shuttle is on deck and so are planes and jets and helicopters.  It's just amazing that this huge machine plowed the waters all those years during World War II  and was the emblem of American might in the oceans of the world and it is Right here in Manhattan!

Just to the south alongside of Intrepid I heard "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and twist, turn step step, 5,6, 7, 8. Very good!" There on the banks of the Hudson were a hundred couples learning to swing dance! They were having a blast and all I could think of was how the results of the fighting men on the aircraft carrier in the background enabled this type of life to continue. 

 

 Keeping on keeping on I continued to a place on the right, again on the river, was a giant barge turned restaurant called the FryingPan. Curious I headed on in and there were hundreds of people enjoying the sounds of gypsy jazz and the river breezes in the sunset.  It was kind of like, well JB's Manhattan style.

After a couple hours there it was getting dark so I got back on the path again and thought I would hit the subway at 23rd but I was already past 23rd so I just kept walking and walking then walking through the Village headed home and as I passed the Blue Note who was standing outside but several players in the Duke Ellington Orchestra who had been playing there for the past week.
 I stopped to talk and chat and ask how their week was and they were very friendly and by the end of the conversation I was running home to take a quick shower as I had been an invited guest to their final show Sunday night!
So what a great end to my story from the night before, don't tell me I didn't know what kind of jazz I was going to be listening to, I was going to be listening to some of the greatest American Jazz played by some of the finest musicians on alto and tenor saxes, clarinets, a piano that just couldn't be beat trumpets, trombones, drums and bass...incredible!
I truly felt the spirits of Noble "Thinman" Watts, Harold Blanchard, and
Duke Ellington himself come into that room while that music was being played. What a wonderful experience!

New York City, it's back on!

Coming Back

 

 

The Clancy Family lost our Dearest Mother in June and I have now come back to New York City to continue the life here that I started in January. It has been very difficult picking myself back up and experiencing the same joy that I did before. 

 
As the plane left LaGuardia and circled over Manhattan heading to Florida it was unbearably difficult to say goodbye to the City for the reason I was going.

I knew what I was facing but had no idea what faced me. 
 

Since returning I have been incredibly thin skinned and have been wondering why it is I came back. Emily stayed behind until school at the end of August and so I was alone to face my grief.
 

Nothing was the same.
 
I even became aware of the 'dirt' of the city where as before I was so
in love that I didn't notice any of it. 

One of the things that made me so fall for New York City was the Sing for Hope Piano Project in which I was trying to play 88 pianos before they disappeared from the streets on June 16. That, sadly, was a quest I could not complete and it only added to my grief. I didn't even want to finish writing about the pianos I had played. In fact I haven't wanted to do much of anything since I returned over a week ago.

 

During the quest I played one of the pianos outside of the Chobani Soho café. Chobani sponsored the Sing for Hope Project. 

 

My picture was taken by Micheline, the project manager, and she sent it to me on email. We then started an email conversation back and forth, first with me telling her of my quest to play all 88, then that I was not able to complete my quest and the reason why. She was very kind and told me to get in touch with them when I return to New York which I did.

Micheline got in touch with me this past Monday by email.  Chobani and Sing for Hope have set it up for me to go next Monday to the warehouse in Times Square where all 88 pianos are stored. Each piano is getting cleaned up and prepared before they are given away to nursing homes schools and community centers.

 

I will be able to play ALL of them in one place!

 

Chobani also delivered by special courier a box filled with yogurts and treats and a lovely note saying that their sympathies were with us, the family, and they wanted to spread the joy of life and that is why they are giving me this incredibly generous gift of being able to play the 88 pianos all in one place in here in New York City!
                                                               What a way to come Back to Life!

3rd of 88 Keys to the City

It is time for a haircut so off I go to the East Village to see Michael at Crops for Girls

‘Crops’ is conveniently located by Tompkins Park where my 3^rd piano lies in wait.  Sing for Hope’s Art “U” partnered with P.S. 34 painting a composition book theme into the piano. 

Saturday is blustery and overcast and holds the promise of rain but is mild so everyone is out walking their dogs, riding bikes and holding hands.  

Upon my arrival I hear a very complicated sonata being played on the piano.  My heart sinks when I see it is a boy of about 8 years old on the keys.  

I take my position and lean on the nearby cement ping pong table and listen, wondering how I am ever going to follow this act.  Suddenly a very big dog is at my ear.  His owner has trained him to jump up on the table as part of his obstacle course training.  Having had a very big dog once take a chunk out of my leg I moved away quickly to save my ear. (I’m sure he was very sweet, it is a knee jerk reaction.) 

Having left my post the boy stood up and was quickly replaced by a very robust lady in a big purple dress under red pigtails wearing a big smile.  How could I refuse such effervescence, Play on!  

And she did.  For a good twenty minutes trying to recall those tunes she learned all those years ago at her piano lessons.  With each note my confidence grew until at last it was my turn and I grabbed it.  

I sat to play my now standard Nobody Knows You When Your Down andOut in C and sang and swang a version of Love in Vain.  

The dog was coming back and was approaching the piano, time to move on. 

I headed toward SoHo where I was to meet Em and Cody and her Cousins Mary and Maureen.  When I was last in the East Village for any length of time the snow was coming down and wandering was not really the thing to do.  This day however invited a stroll.   

I passed so many little neighborhood gardens that I slowed my pace so I could grab some pictures.  What a cool little community! It is really wonderful walking everywhere, I see so much.

2nd of 88 Keys to the City

 

Sometimes after work at 63rd and West End I walk toward our 3^rd Street home.  I haven't made it all the way yet as I usually get distracted by something interesting and end up taking the subway the rest of the way from whatever point I tire out. 

After my initial foray into the Piano Quest and armed with my Sing for Hope map I head home on foot, with 42^nd Street and the New York Public Library my target.  

(Little did I know that the flashing lights of Times Square hid from view a piano in plain sight.)  

Since the weather was perfect and there were a lot of people out and about  I decided to cut through Bryant Park.  The huge field of perfectly manicured grass is remarkable when you consider its surroundings of iron and steel skyscrapers and noisy traffic.

If you don’t know already, Bryant Park is home to the cleanest and loveliest public restroom in the city.  If you stop in, feel free to slide the lady there a couple bucks.  It’s not an official practice, it’s her job, but she certainly has earned that type of appreciation. There are even flowers on the counter.

I digress. 

I find the piano but alas, it is behind the barricades of the Library Garden. Not wanting to invite trouble from the NYPD I move on toward Grand Central planning to return another day.

Heading across 41^st Street I become aware of bronze plaques beneath my feet so I turn back to read one.  In turn I decided to photograph them. Turns out there are 96 of these plaques and as it happens there is a website devoted to them as well with all 96 plaques therein.  But there is no fun in that is there!? This is one of my own 96 with a Met Museum pen as guest star.

Since my Library Way Walk carried me back to the steps of the Library from Grand Central I decided to risk arrest.  I head up the Great Stairs past the Lions then walk quietly past the men sleeping in the quiet promenade.  Once I arrive at the end cap garden I am happy to find two lovely young Japanese women sitting by the piano which was a mosaic of pretty yellow and blue glass by the artist Kathleen Ruel. 

The three of us laughed and made conversation with our hands and tones.  It was great fun to play for such an enthusiastic audience that I stayed for nearly an hour playing everything I could think of. They applauded for each piece even though they were having their own spirited conversation. Not only did I appreciate their attention but their company; safety in numbers.

Arigato ladies!

The First of 88 Keys to the City

Always looking for that next opportunity to experience life in New York City I happened across Sing for Hope, which unites the people of the city through Music and Art by placing 88 decorated pianos across Manhattan, The Bronx, Staten Island, Queens, and Brooklyn. 88 was the number of pianos in deference to the number of keys on the instrument.

From June 1 to the 16^th these pianos are out and I hope to play all of them.  There is a map on Sing for Hope’s website so it is not a scavenger hunt, but it does take some doing to find each piano.

 

The first piano I played was on Wednesday, June 5, in Little Red Square, a park at the corner of 6^th Avenue/Avenue of the Americas and Bleecker Street.  An upright painted by Michael Scoggins in a multi-colored jigsaw puzzle.  Sitting down to play was a bit nerve wracking at first, but then I realized people seemed to enjoy it so I settled in and played Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out and Down in the Valley.  My reason to play is to sing and I sang timidly as I played so I could concentrate on the keys.

It was okay.

After the second song the Little Red Schoolhouse let out effectively ending my first session.  It is hard to compete with forty 6 year olds and a free piano. 

The idea to find each piano came after I played here.  Since I did not take a photo this time I circled back on Saturday, June 8 to play again and take the photo. I had played a few times in the interim so sang out and played with vigor; I actually had people up and dancing and they stayed for both songs!