It takes one day for everything to change. One hour. One second. One glitch in the usual wind cycle. A full moon and a high tide. The perfect storm. It takes one eerie weather forecast to consider leaving. Should we stay? The last storm wasn’t that bad. Let’s stay. It takes one past triumph to make you feel like you can conquer anything. But this was different. It takes one storm. A gust of hate. A selfish and reckless attack on all that we know. It takes one power line falling down to set one hundred houses on fire. Suddenly, simplicity and complacency are swept from right under your feet and your comfort zone is being trampled upon and your delicately planted lifestyles are being uprooted. All in one day.http://thesandinbetweenmytoes.blogspot.com/2013/05/grannie-annie.html
Go forth, young cousin, with one of our last surviving Hess trucks.
I love Christmas music. These are some of my favorites this year:
"Next year all our troubles will be miles away."
I saw this taped to the door of St. Francis de Sales church in Belle Harbor, Queens today before attending mass with my mom. I don’t know when it was put up, or who put it there, but I think the sentiment is shared by so many people in my hometown. Thanks all. Happy Thanksgiving.
“Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
photo: carmel geoghegan words: tennyson, thanks to this post.
I had dinner tonight with my 87-year-old neighbor who lives across the hall. She invited me over for lo-mein and pie a couple days ago — how could i say no?
After we ate the lo-mein (house special) she showed me around her beautiful apartment with the furniture she brought to it after getting married in 1971, furniture from her mother’s house in the Bronx, furniture she decided to keep after shopping for a new living room set and not able to find anything new.
"I wanted the furniture to speak to me," she told me. "When I told that to the guy at the store, he said, ‘maybe you should get a telephone!’"
She showed me photos of her family. She told me about her friends, some living, mostly dead. She told me who married a prince (Rita), who didn’t (her) and showed me photos from her 70th birthday party. Could it have been 17 years ago?
We then went back into the kitchen for lemon merengue pie. She apologized for taking a long time finding the words she was looking for. “My vocabulary is going with my age.”
Her oldest girlfriend is still alive — but she can’t speak.
"I think she lost it or something," she said. She hadn’t seen her in a long time, but it wasn’t all so bad at 87. She doesn’t take so many pills. She was off the one fo high blood pressure. And two years ago, a young friend from church asked her to be the Matron of Honor at her wedding.
"People must have thought I looked funny walking down the aisle," she said while showing me photos of her dressed in a light pink silk shirt.
"Time marches on."
- The Port Authority knew a jet skier was missing and swimming in Jamaica Bay, but didn’t notify JFK security before he hopped the fence and wandered into a terminal two weeks ago.
- A thief was captured on surveillance video stealing two Torah crowns from a Kew Gardens Hills synagogue as congregants prayed upstairs.
- Incumbent State Senator Shirley Huntley listed a bunch of unions as endorsing her in a primary race against James Sanders, Jr. even though the groups said they’re remaining neutral in the race.
- The peacock hanging around Kew Gardens Hills may have originated from nearby John Bowne High School.
- The bathhouse at Riis Park is falling apart, and the New York Times is … oh, you know the rest.
- A ”floating garden” is coming to Long Island City.
- The city is holding a one-day trial of a pedestrian plaza on Newtown Avenue in Astoria.
- Santana is dunzo for the season.