At lunch time the other day, I walked around Union Theological Seminary, where the trees in the center courtyard were just past their full bloom, carpeting the lawn with their petals. This seminary is a hidden jewel in New York City with its gorgeous arched passageways and quiet corridors.
The chapel is always a hub of colorful, creative worship with bright banners swooping down from the ceiling. The last time I was there, I was reporting on the Poverty Initiative, a movement that grew out of Martin Luther King Jr.’s Poor People’s Campaign.
As a writer, artist, worker, mother, wife of a chronically ill spouse and person of faith, I am often looking for quiet and sanctuary, hoping for hidden nooks to reflect upon my life in the big, busy city and recharge my soul. Union Seminary is just such an oasis.
The repaved main upper level from 97th to 116th – smooth sailing on my bike.
The Hudson River, a big shouldered companion, to the pretty, flowery park.
The rings at 106th. How awesome are they? The kids swing on them for hours. On some Saturdays and Sundays, someone sets up a balancing wire. Someone else brings Hula Hoops. And then there’s a boom box playing hip hop music.
The benches for just sitting and watching the kids in strollers and all the dogs — big dogs, little dogs — on leashes. I am not a dog lover, but I admit they can be cute in Riverside Park.
The empanada lady — I should learn her name. She is positioned right by the soccer fields at around 103rd and you’d think she was just selling ice cream bars and hot dogs, but ask for the empanadas or the arroz con pollo, and you won’t be disappointed.
Words really can’t describe how beautiful my bike trip to work is. So I will let my pictures show you. Every day I ride 45 blocks to work in New York City. I never stop. I ride through Riverside Park. I don’t pass any commercial establishments. I ride along the Hudson River. There is beauty all around.
Desperate to escape New York but can’t afford a beach vacation for the entire family? Consider a trip from March 3-4 to The New York Times travel show where for just $15 (kids enter free) you can go around the world at the Jacob Javits Center.
There is an amazing variety of people and places in store: You can go to Israel and eat tasty olives and chips; dig sand art in the Caribbean; watch penguins waddle at Sea World; dance on a stage with teenagers from South Africa, (which we did this last year, and, in exchange, received tee shirts and hugs).
You and your kids will love the experience. At least mine do. We’ve gone for two years and will go again this weekend.
Our route around the convention center is circuitous. I wish I could advise you on the best route to travel the convention hall, but we just wander to different regions, from Alabama to Zimbabwe.
We stumble upon good advice and useful information. We learn how Peace House in Tanzania builds schools; how the plays of George Bernard Shaw changed social justice attitudes in Ireland; and how easily you can obtain a tourist visa to Cuba.
There is a holiday atmosphere to the travel show, as if all of the vendors, performers and travelers are a big cruise ship, sailing through a winter weekend into spring.
Last year, when we entered, I bumped into my coworker, Dan Licardo, who was there with his two daughters. He was lugging a bag so full of giveaways he could hardly carry it.
“It’s like trick or treating,” Dan exclaimed. “Or real international travel – only you don’t have to declare anything when you go through customs!”
We grabbed our own booty bags, from the first booth in our eyesight, India, and began collecting booty.
At almost every booth, my 10-year old twin girls picked up free stuff – candy, mousepads, bags and pens. I drew the line at glossy brochures. I tried to impress my daughters with my knowledge that what we were collecting was called SWAG – stuff we all get. But they weren’t listening; they were collecting brochures.
At the Indonesia booth, a nice lady gave us magnets of a rice field. Occasionally, even today, I approach my refrigerator door with the thought, ‘We ought to travel to Indonesia. People are super nice there.’ I like nice.
My girls scaled a climbing wall so many times I got a neck ache, watching them ring the bell at the top of the wall. I even tried it and made it to the top to ding the bell.
It’s unclear to me which state or country paid for the climbing wall. I do know that nearby Ecuador gave away Frisbees, because we still use them. We should visit Ecuador.
Maine looks nice.
The climbing wall was near the best state in the union, which according to the people of Maine, is Maine. In Maine’s vast exhibit area, a watercolor artist painted a beach scene; a moose mascot roamed around; and a textile artist spun wool. Okay, I was convinced. Maine is the best state in the union.
The first year we attended, the highlight for my twin daughters was scuba diving in a warm (and small) pool. We donned the wet suits they provided in some makeshift tents, signed waivers, and learned to breathe underwater from two hot young scuba instructors. We dove for plastic fish and smiled at each other through our masks. Afterwards, we learned there are scuba schools in New York and we almost signed up, but instead, we took a brochure.
People smiled as we exited the pool area, not rushing us at all. There was a friendliness between fellow travelers that you don’t encounter at an airport or in a foreign country when you’re traveling with kids. Maybe it’s because there’s no need to rush in an exhibit hall. Or maybe it’s because you’re traveling the world, yet you know you can sleep in your own bed at night.
There are stages with world music performers, panels with international chefs and book signings with travel writers but, due to my kids’ restless pursuit of SWAG, I’ve never attended any of these. Maybe this year.
I did have a celebrity-sighting thrill when I met a favorite writer whom I read in the New Yorker and follow on Twitter, Susan Orlean, as she came up the escalator with me.
“I love your work,” I told her sheepishly. Damn, I thought, she’s talented AND pretty.
“Thanks. I’d like to chat. But I lost my boots somewhere.” She yelled down to her husband who was holding their son’s hand at the bottom of the escalator. “I can’t find my boots!” Ah great, I thought, talented, pretty AND disorganized. Just like me! NICE!
“You’re going to need them,” I said, looking out to the city street where the snow swirled around Manhattan, turning to slush as it hit.
I wasn’t quite ready to hit the dirty, snowy city streets yet.
Fortunately, at that moment, Dan spotted me. He called, “Mary Beth, they’re giving out shots of rum in the Caribbean.” I joined him back at the Bahamas.
We’ll head back to the travel show this weekend. I doubt I will visit many of the 500 countries, states, cities or communities that exhibit there but I’m grateful they still want us to visit. The girls are looking forward to more SWAG. New York Times Travel Show
I had an audition the other night at Riley-Grier Studios. I felt like a real professional actor. I had to add my name to a list of dozens of names of people auditioning, but they were running right on time and took me within 10 minutes. They were friendly and curious to hear my writing.
I read a short piece on how my kid is growing up and that’s awful and also great. The show is for a Mother’s Day show called, “Listen To Your Mother.”
I think it went well. Two of the three women were smiling and laughing at my piece. Of course I wondered why the third one wasn’t. Should I not have worn pearls? (Oddly, I always wear pearls to the Parents In Action Meeting, which is where I’d been right before my 8:30 pm audition time. It’s a little uniform I have for parents’ nights.)
Auditioning threw me back to a time in my life where I went on a lot of auditions (and got not a lot of roles). I felt those same feelings – pride and vulnerability, confidence and insecurity. And always this: I’m ambivalent about being judged.
I’m glad I did it. It was one of my New Year’s Resolutions – to make my work a little more public and to perform on a regular basis.
Today was an extremely dreary day. The view from my office.I don't have a head shot any more, but this is one of my Facebook profiles. No pearls.Jones Beach in the winter is so empty and peaceful and beautiful. This has nothing to do with my post.
My girls didn’t like getting up at 8:30 on Saturday mornings to go to art class, but I think they kind of liked exhibiting their work in an art show. I liked it and felt proud of my darlings. We met some fellow artists. A few good friends stopped by. Art is awesome.
(Art Students League from Creative Commons, Wikipedia)
All this week, my daughters’ art is hanging up at the Art Students League on 57th Street, 2nd floor. Please stop in and see it. There will be a party for the class on February 18th, Saturday, from 10 am to 12. You’re invited.
Just like a real art opening, there will be snacks, schmoozing, and admiration (and a little jealousy?) for the artists. The league also has a funky cafeteria that my kids love so stop in some time, even if it’s not this week!
I do have a time conflict on Saturday. This is the same time my watercolor class meets. I will have to multitask. (Last week I had to depart class early for my son’s regional swim meet!)
Despite the effort to get to art class and to parent well, there is nothing better than being a parent and a painter, except maybe being the parent of painters.
Art is a powerful tool for self expression and personal transformation.
Make something creative out of your day. And if you don’t have an idea, go to the Art Students League for inspiration.
My art teacher Naomi Campbell at the Art Students League said to do these three things:
1. Make it strong
2. Keep it simple
3. Edit it down
Is this brilliant or what? She advised us to start with a big solid shape. To convey a gesture, make a strong line.
I love this. I’m a dip-my-toe-in kind of painter but this advice gives me permission to be bold.
Speaking of permission, Robert Burridge, my teacher at the Holbein workshop in Vermont, begins his class by passing out permission slips – bright magenta slips with the word “Permission” printed on them.
And whatever question you ask him, Burridge said, he will always answer, “Yes.”
“More blue?” “Yes.”
So one smart aleck asked, “What if I ask, ‘Does my painting stink?’ Will you say Yes?”
And Burridge said, “I’ll say, ‘You have permission to start over.'”
And that’s kinda what Campbell said today too when she said, “It’s only paper. Don’t try to make it perfect.”
This guy was eating lunch and smoking at the same time, sitting outside the Art Students League today.
In 1995, Eddie was the only guy invited to my wedding shower. (I can’t remember if he made it.) He was invited because I considered him an honorary chick.
Back in the day, he and I loved to schmooze in East Village cafés about the craft of comedy writing.
Eddie Brill from facebook
He told me two things:
Deliver it without apology.
Be yourself.
Good advice. It’s come in handy still, whether I’m making a presentation, teaching, or writing.
On the first point, Eddie said, I shouldn’t deliver a joke and then go, “No, no, I’m just kidding.” Don’t undercut yourself. Men don’t do that. And if you’re insecure, the audience will know it. Audiences want their comics confident.
On the second point, in my material, I had a couple of rehacked jokes. He told me to jettison those. Use only your own material, don’t update, rework, of rewrite other people’s stuff. He was deadly serious. Of course, he was right. Again, for me, it was a confidence thing — I thought the old classic jokes were better than my new ones. Not so.
I think today’s article about Eddie Brill in the New York Times does not do justice to a comic who definitely mentored me in my sort-of-successful-but-not-that-successful comedy career. I still write comedy. And when I do perform, in any capacity, I try to deliver it without apology and be myself.
100 Days of Poems and Pics 