Tell Your Friend Veronica

You're looking at the world's largest menorah...I think.

According to that sign and several internet articles, this menorah, set up in Grand Army Plaza at the south-east corner of Central Park, is the world's largest.

However.

There are other sites out there stating that the menorah set up near the entrance to Prospect Park (also, confusingly, named 'Grand Army Plaza') in Brooklyn is the world's largest.

Who to believe??

Both menorahs are said to be 32-feet tall.  Let's call it a tie.

This menorah weighs 4,000 pounds.  That's a lot of pounds.  I don't want to use the word 'fat,' but I will say this candelabra may have taken the tradition of consuming oily foods (latkes, donuts, etc.) for Hanukkah a little too far.   Try a salad, why don't you.

Those lanterns at the top enclose real-deal oil lamps, which are lit each night with the aid of a cherry-picker (orange, pictured in the background).

That's one large menorah.

Seeing the Light(s)

Matthew McCaslin's "Being the Light"

My destination was Spanish Harlem, but upon crossing the park and realizing:

a) I was only 10 blocks from the Jewish Museum, and
b) there were just 3 minutes until 11am (opening time), plus
c) it was Saturday (free admission), not to mention
d) that night would be the first night of Hanukkah -

- I decided it was perfect timing to re-visit the museum's menorah collection.  So I detoured down to 92nd Street, let the security guard rifle through my bag, took the Sabbath elevator to the 4th floor, and spent a few minutes noting how artists across time and space (from Russia to Morocco to the Netherlands to the US) have interpreted the Hanukkah menorah (or hanukiah).

Pictured are a couple of the more...'interesting' ones, but the museum also has a wide range of more traditional lamps, made from a variety of materials (glass, brass, silver, copper, etc.), each bearing the distinct mark of the artist who birthed it, and the culture/country where it was made.

Mae Rockland Tupa's "Miss Liberty"

Afterwards, I continued my trek to Spanish Harlem, but progress was de-railed once again when I smelled a bakery too good to pass by. I left with the world's largest donut, which we could pretend I ate in honor of Hanukkah (it's traditional to eat donuts and other oily foods), but I only remembered that in retrospect.

In the moment?  I just really wanted that donut.

Thankful for the occasional detour in life...

What Hinders

When my neighbor-friend spotted me, he was finishing a run along the Hudson river and I?  I was balanced precariously on some slippery rocks by the water's edge, holding a dinner roll in my hand.

"Hey! Welcome back!" he said, referencing my recent return from vacation.

"Hey! I'm back!" I said, before awkwardly stating the obvious, "I have some bread!" and continuing with a half-truth, "I'm going to throw it in the water!"

"Ok, well...cool. I'm sure the ducks will love it." (generous on his part; there were no ducks in sight)

We made plans to catch up over sushi later, and he continued on his run. I sat down on a flat rock and did what I had come to the river to do, the thing that had seemed too complicated to fully explain: the annual ritual of tashlich.

Tashlich (Hebrew for "you will throw / cast off") usually occurs on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Technically, I was a day early in practice on that Sunday afternoon, but I'm sure the rabbis would be willing to overlook my timing error. Especially in light of the fact that I AM NOT JEWISH. And am therefore not bound to observe this ritual in any way, in the slightest.

Therein lay my hesitation in explaining to my neighbor-friend just what I was doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand.  Just what was I doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand??

* * *

Sometimes I'll co-opt Jewish traditions or holidays (say, Passover or Hannukah) under the guise that because Jesus celebrated them, so should I.  The origins of tashlich, however, are unclear: most likely it's a medieval practice; even if it dates earlier, we still have no textual evidence that Jesus ever participated in the ritual.

And I, as a non-Jew, have no real reason to participate either.

Except that I like tashlich.  I just really like it.

There are many takes on tashlich, the most basic being that the bread represents your sin, and by throwing the bread into the water, you are symbolically casting off sin.  Then you can observe how the water carries your sin away - much like God does.

My own take on tashlich focuses more on the new year aspect of Rosh Hashanah - a letting-go of the past.  Yes, the sin, but also the hurts sustained, the discouragement, the tears.  The stuff that can weigh you down if you drag it from one year to the next.  And meditating on a God who can make all things new, who can really, truly wipe the slate clean, who says, "You don't have to carry all this by yourself anymore."

So thinking on all that - that's what I was doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand.

But sometimes, it's just easier to let people think you're feeding the ducks.

* * * 

"As I cast this bread upon the waters

Lift my troubles off my shoulders.

Help me to know that last year is over,

washed away like crumbs in the current.

Open my heart to blessing and gratitude

Renew my soul as the dew renews the grasses. 

And we say together: Amen."

(Source)

No Work Wednesday 

This Fourth of July, I celebrated my freedom from the beige cubicle (...as well as larger, more lasting freedoms, of course...)

I also celebrated the life & times of Mr. Andy Griffith (can you believe I'd never seen one single episode of his eponymous show before yesterday?  It's streaming on Netflix, and it is delightful.)

I also celebrated root beer floats.  And iced coffees.  And friendship.  Whole lotta celebrating going on.

Late morning ramble through Central Park's North Woods

Wildlife in the water (Harlem Meer)

More wildlife in the water (Lasker Pool)

Traditional holiday afternoon meet-up with Tiff @ VBar
Erring on the side of productivity (far from promiscuity)
we talked about the book we're writing
(PS - we're writing a book)
and found potential source material on VBar's bookshelf

Talking 'bout boys, squirrels, and sketch re-writes
over hamburgers and root beer floats
@ Shake Shack with Improv teammates

Walking home with a friend...

...catching unexpected glimpses of the Hudson River fireworks

Memorial Day Weekend
(In Pictures)

Friday night: My friend Jeffers and I, fueled by a few margaritas, decided to go geo-caching along the Hudson.  This picture was taken from Pier I, looking south and back towards the west-side skyline.

Saturday morning: Errands in Soho took me past the Converse store.  Tri-colored high-tops in all their (old) glory = appropriately patriotic.

Saturday afternoon:  post-Improv rehearsal but pre-thunderstorm, my teammates and I headed down to the docks to see what we could see, Fleet Week-wise.  We happened upon this tall ship from Ecuador.  The men in orange jumpsuits are sailors (not prisoners) and they were very high up.  Scary-awesome to watch them drape themselves over the yardarm, furling a sail.  (Is 'furl' the opposite of 'unfurl'?  I choose to believe that it is.)

Sunday afternoon: sea-side at Brighton Beach, hanging with my friends The Russians.  Stopped in at La Brioche for cream-cheese-based pastries.  Because, when in Little Russia...

Followed that with a much-needed walk down the shore to Coney Island.  An article in the Times a few months ago reported that the wooden planks of the boardwalk may be replaced, in sections, by a recycled plastic polymer that "looks like wood."  Above is a section of said new faux-walk.  

Dear reader, I ask, Does that look like wood to you??  

Here's a section that hasn't been redone yet.  Authentic boardwalk.  I hear (I really do) the points in favor of the faux-walk: both economic (wood can cost $1 million/year to maintain (!)), and environmental (a switch to plastic reduces the use of tropical hardwood from endangered rain forests).

And yet.  There's nothing so nostalgically beachy and summery as the creaky bounce of a real-deal boardwalk.

Beach volleyball.

Know what that reminds me of?

The Olympics.  Less than two months away.  Get pumped.

Yom HaShoah

GTS Chapel

Wednesday night I attended an interfaith service, in observance of Holocaust Remembrance Day, at General Theological Seminary in Chelsea.

The service was conducted by GTS faculty & students along with Jewish clergy members.  Acolytes lit eleven taper candles in the middle of the chapel - six candles for the 6 million Jews who perished, and five candles representing the non-Jewish victims of the Holocaust.  We sang some songs (mostly psalms), did some responsive reading.  A rabbi gave a short homily, and then a survivor told his story, which sounded like a movie - narrow escapes, falsified papers, the French resistance.  But the horror was real.  The service ended with Kaddish, and a recitation of the names of each of the camps, as the chapel bells tolled.

I visited Auschwitz, a couple of years ago, on my trip to Eastern Europe.  Though I took tons of pictures in Budapest, Vienna, Krakow - I took very few pictures while at Auschwitz.  Maybe three, total.  I knew then that I wouldn't really want to look at pictures of the camp later; wouldn't care to show them to others.

On the one hand, it's too ugly a thing to photograph - the site of such systemic destruction and death.  On the other hand, it wasn't actually ugly enough - that area of Poland is quite lovely; the day I visited was all expansive blue skies and autumn leaves and fresh air.  You have to squint very hard in your heart to imagine how a setting so pastoral could have been - once upon a time, in the not-so-distant past - so perverse.

Photographs won't serve the purpose.  You have to remember in other ways.

I'm glad GTS gives space and time to gather in remembrance.  And I thought it rather meaningful to remember in an interfaith context.

At the back of the bulletin for the service were some quotations that I also found meaningful - thoughts on interconnectedness and interdependence.  Thoughts on how we need each other:

"There is not one survivor who did not find support and help among fellow prisoners.  No one could have survived on his own physical and mental strength." 

- Anna Pawelcynska, Values & Violence in Auschwitz: A Sociological Analysis

"The truth is...they survived because they were carried by someone, someone who cared for them as much, or almost as much for themselves." 

- Richard Glazar, Treblinka survivor

"Everyone who returned knows that without others, she would not have come back.  By others, we mean those members of our group who hold you up, or carry you when you can no longer walk, those who help you hold fast when you are at the end of your rope." 

- Charlotte Delbo, Auschwitz survivor

Easter Colors

Orange facade and flier box, spotted on my early morning walk to Silver Moon Bakery, where I snagged a dozen dinner rolls for later.

The median section of Park Ave is lousy with yellow tulips right about now.  Go check them out!  Stunning.  I spotted these red and yellow guys up high in a window box, while walking to church Sunday morning.

Church was colorful in it's own (un-photograph-able) right.  Pastor must've yelled "He is risen!" and we must've yelled back "He is risen indeed!" on at least 6 separate occasions.  And the Easter hymns, and the peace-passing, and the stories shared, and...all of it.  All of it.

On my walk home through Central Park, I spotted the beginnings of green on the trees along the Mall.

(I flippin' love these elm trees.  Look at those lines!  Every time I see them - whatever the season - my heart swells and I thank Olmstead for the vision and God for the growing.)

Assorted pastel plastic eggs on the Imagine Circle.

Yellow butter and green parsley - my "artistic" contribution to Sonz and Mr. Sonz's Semi-Annual Easter Ham Feast.  (Thanks guys for hosting!  You throw the best bashes.)

Pink hyacinths on the pot-luck table.  (Not pictured: ham, mashed potatoes, baked beans, broccoli salad, green bean casserole, red jello, assorted rolls, deviled eggs, *two* (2) kinds of pie, lemonade, Dr. Pepper, and beers.  We ate well.)

Black is the color of Doug the Pug.  (That longing you see in his eyes is for understanding, for peace & quiet, for everyone to sit back down and never go anywhere ever again, and perhaps longing for a baby carrot (Doug's drug of choice.))

 Hope you had a happy one!  (Easter...or Pug...whichever you celebrate*)


(*Note: not mutually exclusive)

Amen, Amen

An Ash Wednesday Prayer

"How often have I lived through these weeks without paying much attention to penance, fasting, and prayer? How often have I missed the spiritual fruits of the season without even being aware of it? But how can I ever really celebrate Easter without observing Lent? How can I rejoice fully in your Resurrection when I have avoided participating in your death?

Yes, Lord, I have to die - with you, through you, and in you - and thus become ready to recognize you when you appear to me in your Resurrection. There is so much in me that needs to die: false attachments, greed and anger, impatience and stinginess...I see clearly now how little I have died with you, really gone your way and been faithful to it.

O Lord, make this Lenten season different from the other ones. Let me find you again."

 -Henri Nouwen, from A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee

Free Us from Self-Fascination 

"Lord Almighty, we say we want to serve you, we say we want to help others less fortunate than ourselves, we say we want justice. But the truth is, we want power and status because we so desperately need to be loved. Free us from our self-fascination and the anxious activity it breeds, so that we might be what we say we want to be – loved by you and thus capable of unselfish service."

- Stanley M. Hauerwas, from Prayers Plainly Spoken

Lent

"In many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of each year's income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe forty days of Lent is to do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year's days. After being baptized by John in the River Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.

•  If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn't, which side would get your money and why? 
• When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore? 
• If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less? 
• Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember? 
• Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for? 
• If this were your last day of your life, what would you do with it?

To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end."

-Frederick Buechner, from Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary 

A Day For Love

(Original source; doctored with love)

I recently learned that February 15th is Phil Collins Day.  Happy Phil Collins Day, everyone!

Before you start trying to convince me that you don't like Mr. Collins' music, let me say something:

Yes, you do.

You know you do.  I know you do.  How do I know?  Because I like it, too.

Is it cheesy?  Yes.  But is it also amazing?  Double yes.

Groovy Kind of Love?  Takes you back to a middle school dance - forgetting all the intense awkwardness and just remembering the (mostly imagined) sweet moments.

Another Day in Paradise?  Synthesizers shed light on the problem of homelessness.  You can't dance to this song, but you can do a slow snap, while looking thoughtful.

Separate Lives?  A cheesy duet par excellence.

And Against All Odds?  C'mon.  No really, c'mon.  I want to simultaneously karaoke and ice-skate to this song, while playing a drum set in the rain.  They just do not write songs like this anymore. I seriously love it.

Apparently there is an annual Phil Collins Day celebration in Brooklyn - last year there was a parade, this year there was a confessional booth (where you could record your tale of love/woe to be later played for Phil, a man who knows a thing or two about heartache and pain.)

I had an Improv rehearsal tonight, so I couldn't make it out to the party.  But next year, when PCD rolls around again, let's take to the streets to show Mr. Collins that he'll always be in our hearts.

He would do it for us.

Happy NHTD!

January 11th is National Hot Toddy Day.

Nope, I don't know the historical origins of this holiday.  Do you really need to know them, in order to celebrate the sweet union of whiskey and honey?

Didn't think so.

There are many variations on a hot toddy, but here's how I made mine:

• 2 oz bourbon
• 1/2 tsp. brown sugar
• 1 tsp. honey
• lemon juice (to taste)
• strips of lemon peel
• cinnamon sticks
• hot water

Mix the first four ingredients in a glass.  Drop in the lemon peel and cinnamon sticks.  Top with hot water. Stir. Let it steep for just a bit.  Enjoy!  (that's an order)

And So It Begins

I scored a temporary glitter tattoo kit earlier this month at my office's Dirty Santa/Yankee Swap/White Elephant event.

It was a big hit on New Year's Eve.

The kit came with stencils for flower & butterfly tattoos, but we're not really flower & butterfly kinda peeps, my friends and I.  So we free-handed our designs, and ended up with: a variegated octopus, a fire-breathing dragon with pinkeye, a Japanese symbol-slash-anchor, a winking happy face, a Scottish coat of arms, purple lips, and an oceanscape (of sorts).

If it's true what they* say - that how you spend New Year's portends how your new year will unfold - then I'm thinking my 2012 is going to be awfully glittery.

Here's hoping.

*Who?

Menorahs on Parade

Last Thursday I was checking out the windows at Bergdorf Goodman (pictures forthcoming) when all of a sudden - traffic stopped, sirens sounded, recorded music piped up and a parade started down 5th Avenue!

Many, many, many minivans and cars with menorahs strapped to their roofs (rooves?  no, roofs) drove by.  Passengers yelled "Happy Hanukkah!" from car windows, occasionally handing out boxed menorah sets.

The parade seemed to be put on by Chabad (you can see a couple of their 'mitzvah tanks' in pics above & below) which often organizes events around the city during Jewish holidays.

A festive few minutes of the Festival of Lights.  So glad I was in the right place at the right time to see it.

Marveling

Central Pres, NYC

Noël: Christmas Eve 1913
by Robert Bridges

Pax hominibus bonae voluntatis

A frosty Christmas Eve
when the stars were shining
Fared I forth alone
where westward falls the hill,
And from many a village
in the water'd valley
Distant music reach'd me
peals of bells aringing:
The constellated sounds
ran sprinkling on earth's floor
As the dark vault above
with stars was spangled o'er.
Then sped my thoughts to keep
that first Christmas of all
When the shepherds watching
by their folds ere the dawn
Heard music in the fields
and marveling could not tell
Whether it were angels
or the bright stars singing.

Now blessed be the tow'rs
that crown England so fair
That stand up strong in prayer
unto God for our souls
Blessed be their founders
(said I) an' our country folk
Who are ringing for Christ
in the belfries to-night
With arms lifted to clutch
the rattling ropes that race
Into the dark above
and the mad romping din.

But to me heard afar
it was starry music
Angels' song, comforting
as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderly
to his sorrowful flock:
The old words came to me
by the riches of time
Mellow'd and transfigured
as I stood on the hill
Heark'ning in the aspect
of th' eternal silence.


If you're a fan of John Denver & The Muppets: Christmas Together, this poem may sound familiar.

Ringing It Out

I passed these Salvation Army members on my lunch break the other day.  They were ringing their bells and dancing to a recorded version of Britney Spear's "My Only Wish (This Year)."

Do you know this song?  It's officially terrible.  But unofficially awesome.

Other songs I include in this category:

A Christmas To Remember - Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers let us in on a little secret: the key to a good Christmas is "a fast-talkin' lover and some slow-burnin' wood."

Last Christmas - I know some people have strong feelings (of hate) for Wham's much-maligned, oft-covered holiday classic.  Admittedly, it has very little to do with Christmas and everything to do with getting dumped on Dec. 26th.  But I kinda can't get enough of it.

Our Love is Like a Holiday - Michael Bolton took the concept of John Denver's "Jet plane," a song about going on the road and leaving loved ones behind, and added jingle bells.  The result is cheesy, but oh so dance-able.  "I've been to Paris, London, L.A.; I've felt the tropical sun on my face; this Christmas we don't need to get away; 'cause our love is like a holiday."  Well, amen, Michael Bolton.

And new this year...

Mistletoe - Justin Bieber misappropriates biblical imagery ("Wise men followed a star...the way I followed my heart") to describe the love he feels for someone named "Shawty." 

Terribly awesome.  Awesomely terrible.

Passing By The Parade

Before heading to Boston for Friendsgiving, I stopped by the staging area for the Macy's parade.

Lucky ducks who live on W. 77th Street get a crowd-free view of the balloons taking shape.

In this photo, Frieda the Dachshund and the KoolAid Man seem to be good friends.  I hope they are, in real life.

Macy's signature stars, Kermit the Frog (is that a yoga pose? Is he praying? Looking for a contact lens?), Mother Goose, and Sailor Mickey (trapped under a net!)

Spidey, Ronald McDonald's shoe, and the Energizer Bunny.  Only one of these balloons is a super hero (the other two are product placements) but I think we can agree that they ALL save lives.

So fun to see all of these characters up-close!  Hope your Thanksgiving was full of fellowship, warmth, and mashed potatoes.  Mine certainly was, and I'm so thankful for it.

And So Fourth

I began my Fourth of July by baby-sitting this cutie-patootie, while we waited for her little sister to hurry up and get here.

(Welcome to the world, Janey! Being born on the Fourth, I expect that Baby, You'll be a Firework!) (That's a Katy Perry reference.) (I'll explain when you're older.)

After we finished our watermelon, I suggested that we might have a Peter, Paul & Mary dance party, and Gracie said (and I quote), "Sure." She is a toddler after my own heart.  We marched around the coffee table, clapping along to "Have You Been To Jail For Justice?" and "This Land is Your Land."

Then Grace got a little bored of dancing, so we invented a hilarious game called "Oops, I Fell Down."  Then we read two books, did one puzzle, went to the park, played with bubbles, ate pizza, had a couple more rounds of "Oops, I Fell Down," read one more book, and then - I was exhausted.

Nap time came in the nick of time.

My Fourth of July ended with a picnic & a movie in the park with friends.  We didn't see fireworks, but we did get to gaze up at foxy Peter Fonda and the red-white-and-blue Empire State Building all evening.

The Fourth is not typically my favorite holiday (heat, crowds, and excessive patriotism don't really run my motor), but this Fourth was really quite alright.

Sweet Freedom


Daffodils in Riverside Park

Yesterday was Easter.  It was eight kinds of lovely.

First, there was church.  I love to sing those Easter hymns.  Because - you know what - sometimes I feel like shouting 'glory'. (Can I get an 'amen' to that?)

After the service, we busted out folding tables and flowered tablecloths and had ourselves a good ol'-fashioned church potluck. I brought a butter lamb but someone else brought Bouchon macarons, so they won the day.  (Just kidding.  Jesus won the day.)

And then - after the potluck - I had nothing scheduled.  Wait, let me say that again: I. Had. Nothing. Scheduled. 

I can't tell you the last time I had a free weekend afternoon/evening (I believe it was January).  I almost didn't know what to do with myself.  The day stretched out - beautifully empty, beautifully free of commitments. 

I took a nap, I took a walk, I sat by the Hudson River and read a book.  I went to the grocery store, I made dinner (a real dinner! Not a frozen burrito or microwave popcorn that I sometimes pretend is dinner!). I went to bed at a reasonable hour.

I set my own schedule and did whatever I felt like doing in the moment. It was awesome.  It was even more awesome than the pistachio macaron I ate at the Easter potluck. 

Though not as awesome as the Easter story itself.  That always wins.

Amen.

Saintly

It's Saint Patrick's Day!  Don't have much to say about that.  But I do have these pictures (leftover from a trip up to the Cathedral of St John the Divine back in September) that felt somehow appropos.  Little people, green things, a church.  I don't know.

Still Beginning & Good Madness

I'm still in reflecting mode - looking back over 2010, looking ahead to 2011.

Is there a moratorium on reflecting? 

Probably.  But I figure I got at least a few more days before I need to snap out of it.

Until then, please to enjoy my pics of the Central Park midnight fireworks:

And this quote from Neil Gaiman, which has been making the rounds on ye olde internet (for good reason):

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make art – write or draw or build or sing or live only as you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

- Neil Gaiman