Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Matches and Memories 

December 28, 2024

A few weeks ago, as I was scrolling through Instagram, I came across a post from my friend Chris who shared a story that included matches from the famous Coffee Shop that once took over the corner of 16th Street and Union Square West. 

As soon as I saw those blue and yellow matches it struck a chord and I quickly went to get my container filled with matchbooks I’ve collected. Sure enough, I still had them.  Even though I met Chris years after he worked at the Coffee Shop, we both had that same little piece of NYC memorabilia. 

Most of the places that fueled my NYC energy are – sadly – no longer in existence.  In the early 90s I worked downtown. The city was very different back then – there wasn’t a Walgreens or Chase bank on every corner – instead there were more brick and mortar stores and old mom and pop places. 

As I rummaged through my blue glass container with that overwhelming smell of sulphur in the air, each match book I touched sparked a memory.  

There were the many magical moments at the Greatest Bar on Earth and maybe too many Friday night margaritas at El Teddy’s in Tribeca. I could almost taste the yummy  pancakes and hear the click of flutes filled with mimosas as we toasted another Sunday jazzy brunch at The Cupping Room. 

For a moment I felt that I could hear my feet walking on the crunchy floor filled with peanut shells at the Louisiana  Community Bar & Grill on Broadway and Houston.  I remember ordering my first flight of wine at The Soho Kitchen and Bar and I thought that was the coolest thing.  And oh, those nights dancing on the chairs after dinner at Boom on Spring Street followed by late night singing and dancing to 1970s hits at PollyEsther’s in the East Village. I can still feel the beat from the tambourine. We were having the time of our lives. 

The one book of matches that wasn’t in the pile was my all-time favorite, Lucky Strike in Soho.  I think I took all my friends and even my Mom to Lucky Strike.  That’s what I loved about Lucky Strike; you could spend hours sipping cappuccinos, a leisurely lunch or just a glass of wine, but what I especially loved was a steak frites dinner with a bottle of wine or two, simply talking about the meaning of life. 

I was introduced to Lucky Strike in the 90s when there was a line to get in – it was worth the wait – there was sense of excitement as we walked through the doorway and that velvet curtain parted and we entered an intimate bar filled with people drinking, eating, and laughing. But the real fun started around the midnight hour. We always ended up dancing the late night hours away as the DJ, tucked in a corner, was happily spinning records. For me, this place encapsulated my New York City. 

Every matchbook has a story and I cherish all the memories. Now, when I see the blue Chase sign instead of the vibrant bright red “Coffee Shop Bar” sign that once lit up Union Square West, I smile and pause for a moment – I am glad there are places I’ll remember even though most have gone. At least I have these matchbooks to spark my memories. 

September 11, 2024

September 11, 2024

It is hard to believe that it has been 23 years since the terror attacks.  We can all recall vividly that beautiful morning with a sky as blue as blue and how quickly it turned into a nightmare.

We all have our stories of that day. Some lost loved ones, some had to escape from the burning towers or surrounding areas, some were brave heroes, and others watched from a distance as our beautiful city crumbled and thousands of beautiful souls were taken from us.  We will never FORGET all those who perished on that horrific day. 

Some of you know my personal story. I lost Chris that day. I was very angry for a long time. In December of 2007 I had a meltdown,  a complete meltdown which I like to think of as my breakthrough.  I finally got help and started my journey toward truly healing.  My heart broke that day like thousands of others and it has taken decades to heal. 

I have always talked about the pain of losing Chris but not for my love of those towers. For years I thought, “How can you mourn buildings, they’re just buildings.” Yet those two sparkling towers had once filled this 6 year-old kid with hopes and dreams. I fell in love with the towers and with their consuming energy. They could be felt even if you had never been to NYC.  They dominated a skyline that said, “Anything is possible.”

How could a new building, a replacement, ever compare? I thought that I could never fall in love with the Freedom Tower. But through my camera’s lens I did indeed fall in love with the new tower and the changed skyline. (Not to mention the years of therapy  that helped make it possible.)

A few days ago, in search of another photo, I came across this one taken on September 11, 2016.  I was with my friend Ashley that evening. We didn’t have plans to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge but something seemed to call upon us and so we did. It was a crisp night as we walked towards the tribute lights. I don’t really know how to explain it but there was this sense of peace surrounding us.  We didn’t have to say much to each other on the bridge. Oddly, it wasn’t very crowded.  I could hear these lyrics from Simon & Garfunkel:  “And the vision that was planted in my brain / Still remains / Within the sounds of silence.” 

It was after midnight when Ashley and I walked home as we shared our 9/11 stories.   It had been a long time since I felt a strong connection with the city. That night something shifted in me.  

I am glad that we have these tribute lights to reflect each year. We must Never Forget. 

The morning has gold in its mouth

July 3, 2024

‘Il mattino ha l’oro in bocca”

I was not born an early riser.  For most of my life, I have hated getting up in the morning. But somewhere along the way, I changed. 

I have always admired people who got up at the crack of dawn. I have wanted to be that person but often have heard people say, “You are either a morning person or you are not!”

As I grew older, entering adulthood, not much changed, I dreaded getting out of bed. The struggle was real.  I would stay in bed to the very last second while all the time having a back-and-forth discussion with myself…it will only take me 12 minutes to get ready…I won’t wash my hair…. I can put on make-up on the ferry.  I would come up with any excuse to stay horizontal just a little longer. Why did I make this process so damned difficult? 

My friend Lori was once burdened with the responsibility of being my 4am wake up call before a morning flight. I not only hung up on her several times, at one point I told her to go on ahead with the trip without me.  Thank god she was persistent because I might not have enjoyed a wonderful week on a crystal blue beach, drinking margaritas somewhere in Mexico.

Once I even passed up on a job interview. I couldn’t possibly interview for a position with an 8am start time, so I gracefully declined the interview. (As luck would have it, the girl who accepted the later position soon changed to the earlier one.  In the end, I interviewed and accepted that later position. I should add that those scheduled work hours were soon thrown out the door. Twenty-eight years later, after many long days, occasional tears shed, and an abundance of laughter, Cindy and I are still good friends.) 

I often wonder how different our lives would be if Cindy would have accepted and kept that later position. Perhaps it was not just luck. Perhaps this was meant to be and this was the start of my slow transformation into a morning person. 

I began the process of getting out of bed early with the help of Tony Robbins. I purchased an audio tape program of his called “Breakthrough”.  I was determined – once and for all – to get over my dread of getting up. I had things I wanted to do: Take yoga classes, take photographs, write, and simply enjoy stress-free mornings. 

Tony Robbins teaches that “not taking action” can be more painful than “taking action.” I began to think of the struggle of getting out of bed as “painful,” keeping me from the things that would bring me joy, once vertical.  

So when that buzzing sound came around to wake me, I changed that conversation I had daily, with myself …if I don’t get up how will I feel and if I do get up how much better will I feel?  It was a simple technique of using pain and pleasure instead of it using me.  And slowly, I did change.  

It has been over a decade since I have implemented Tony’s technique and now the idea of staying in bed feels wrong. It may not be in my DNA, but I have discovered a love for the morning.  It is a special time and I am grateful for the many joyful things that come right before the dawn, It is no longer an ordeal.  

I had plans to write about how I am no longer on my own island (maybe next month) but early this week, chatting with Lover, I said, “You know some of my best shots were taken at dawn.”  I used the phrase “the early bird catches the worm” and sarcastically said “you know that one right?”  Being a true morning person, he understood. The next morning while reading during my morning commute, I came across this Italian phrase “Il matting ha l’oro in bocca” which translates as “the morning has gold in its mouth.” You know how I like things to connect, so I immediately took out my journal and started writing about my struggles with getting up early.

I like the idea that the morning has “gold in its mouth” much better than catching a worm.  I look forward to finding much gold in my morning endeavors.  

Never forget you have the power to change.

Coffee, a Cry and Creativity at Campground

June 9, 2024

On May 17th,  I met up with Sara Hosey – an author and the host of the creating writing class that I participated in at the Sea Cliff library back in March – for a coffee at the Campgroup in Sea Cliff.  Campground is a place known for craft beer and craft coffee and a fun place to take a seat or perhaps pitch a tent. 

I was almost going to cancel after an insane week in the office. But I needed to take a break and could spare 45 minutes to meet up with a new friend.  I took a deep breath and after a short moment of gratitude considering all the positives around me, out the door I went.   

She and I quickly got to chatting. Not too far into our chat, a wave of emotion came over me along with a few tears that slowly began to trickle down my face.  I tried to resist but the emotion was real. 

I said, “I am so sorry. I am not the kind of person that shows up for coffee and brings along drama,” and quickly explained that I had had a stressful few weeks. With compassion, she just said to “go with it.” And so I did.  

As I wiped away my tears, I glanced at my phone and saw a response from a text from Lover. Earlier I wrote,” I am exhausted, I mean I don’t know how much more my brain can handle,” and his response was “try to relax and enjoy the new friendship.” I read this out loud to Sara and she thought it was sweet. As did I.  

Exhale.

I recently heard Jerry Seinfeld say, “Does anyone ever look back and say ‘I wish I had spent more time at the office?’” That struck a chord with me. It astonishes me to think that I’ve worked more than 37 years at the same place.  Am I getting too old for my job?  Or is it time to start a new career? Or perhaps both? 

My mind is sharp and I can still multi-task like a mad woman, but I continually question myself. Is this what I should be doing and for how much longer? Any time that word “should” comes in – it  isn’t a good sign.  If I were doing something I loved, would I feel this exhausted and mentally drained? It feels like I have been on a roller coaster for years at my job, yet I keep staying on for another ride. I’ve maintained my balance, managing to find time for a life outside of work and to balance my many creative endeavors. But lately – this idea of getting old – hit me. I am not 25 years old. If I do want to start a second career, it’s time that I step it up. 

I recently sorted through a chest filled with old journals which included over 20 years of dating, grieving, and aching to be in love, along with a consistent message of wanting to write and tell stories, whether it be via prose or photography.  It was so exhausting reading through them that I started to take some of the journals, immersed them under water, and then ripped them to shreds before tossing them into the garbage.

It was always the same theme and the same story line.  I have probably been fantasizing about writing for almost as long as I was fantasizing about falling in love.  

The love has arrived. Now I am finding myself as a creative person. These little monthly essays are part of that process. They help.

“What we resist persists” the wise Carl Jung once said.  Ain’t it the truth. I have worked through many obstacles in life but this feels different. It is fair to say that I have stayed with the familiar for a very long time and that a feeling of comfort has kept me feeling safe. It is time to be honest and say that I am fearful. There. I am putting it on paper.  

After the coffee with Sara I came back home. I had a work call. I felt mentally drained. I could barely make a sentence, but I pushed through as I have for the past 37 years and then I let things go.  Maybe I needed to shed a few tears to welcome my new life with Lover in the quaint town of Sea Cliff and the many creative possibilities that lie ahead.  I am glad I didn’t resist those tears. They are a good reminder to have patience, to be persistent, and stop this damn resisting.