My New York Adventure - Part 2

Continuing my adventures in Manhattan, on Monday I traveled down to visit the Eldridge Street Synagogue, now a museum — a place I'd always wanted to see.  Though I'm not Jewish, I was curious about this house of worship built for the immigrant population cramming the tenements.  From the museum's website:

"Between 1880 and 1924, two and a half million East European Jews came to the United States. Close to 85 percent of them came to New York City, and approximately 75 percent of those settled initially on the Lower East Side.

The Eldridge Street Synagogue opened its doors at 12 Eldridge Street on September 4, 1887, just in time for the Jewish High Holidays. Hundreds of newly arrived immigrants from Russia and Poland gathered here to pray, socialize and build a community. It was the first time in America that Jews of Eastern Europe had built a synagogue from the ground up."

Lucky for me, I had a terrific docent, Miryam Wasserman who took us through the downstairs renovation and the glorious upstairs restoration where everything was as it was at the turn of the century — save for the new stained glass window (last shot below) to replace the original that was long gone.  The building is steeped in history that details the Jewish experience and how this synagogue created a united faith-based community of those from a widespread diaspora.  I learned a lot — including where the expression, "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater!" came from.  

Sticking with the budget, after my immigrant experience, I traveled further on Eldridge Street and treated myself to an order of Chinese pork & scallion (yes scallions, but they were cooked) dumplings from Prosperity Dumpling — very tasty, filling, and best of all, the price: $1.00!

Well, my lower East side experience was wonderful (and there's still the Tenement Museum I've yet to visit) so on Tuesday I decided to venture even further downtown — to the 9/11 Memorial Museum.  If you go to their website two weeks in advance, you can sign up for free timed tickets on a Tuesday.  In my case, I didn't know in advance but you can get on line on a Tuesday, after 4pm and they start issuing tickets as available to go in at 5pm.  [Saved me $24.]

It is a magnificent tribute to the fallen and those who survived and I was particularly moved by the audio accounts of each incident pieced together (with timelines) by multiple individuals.   Brought to tears, I was touched by the thoughtfulness of the museum's tissue dispensers in these video rooms.  

In this case, a picture is truly worth a thousand words...

I had to take this in two shots and they don't
align perfectly but I hope you get the picture.

This shows where the piece of ruptured steel below came from in the building.

After an exhaustive experience I walked through the last three rooms without stopping — one on terrorism and the others on things following the tragedy.  I needed to leave and be outside.  The escalators up from the underground memorial showed this ...

The old World Trade Center

 and outside I was dwarfed by the sight of the tower that has risen in its place.

and the new WTC

Next time, a visit all the way north to Fifth & 104th, El Museo del Barrio.

My New York Adventure - Part 1

I went to New York to take care of business: family, personal, and other.  I planned to take advantage of all the city has to offer but there's a catch: I'm on a strict budget.  So each day I went to a different museum that was free or pay-what-you-wish.  

On Friday, at Grand Central way back in the Stationmaster's Passage, I saw a charming exhibit of large quilt squares celebrating the centennial of Grand Central Station.

I wish you could see them all...

Next I traveled crosstown to Lincoln Center and the American Folk Art Museum

with its incredible exhibit of treasures...forgive that these shots are not the best but I believe the brilliance of the art will shine through...

DAPPER DAN

Artist Unidentified

On Saturday, the Guggenheim for a look at the Italian Futurists and their vision of the world ahead...

Ardengo Soffici

Gino Severini

Mario Chiattone

But then I was politely told NO photos, please!  Still, photos were allowed in another exhibit Under the Same Sun: Art from Latin America Today and there were some fascinating and provocative things...

 

including a pair of electric fans saying "Yes/No" Artist: Wilfredo Prieto

or this Calder-esque mobile of cymbals, complete with Timpani sticks for passersby to strike them...  "We'll See How Everything Reverberates"  Artist: Carlos Amorales

Well, this is just a smattering of what I saw — next time I'll share more...

Wallowing in Self-Awareness

I know a lot about myself.  I'm pretty self-aware.  Why I'm behaving the way I am.  Why I'm struggling.  I get that my reality is different now, that the roles I have always filled are no longer available to me. I realize that it's up to me to make the changes necessary to create a new path for myself.

So what's stopping me?

What gets in the way of doing what I always said I'd do if I had the time?

I have the time.

I'm not doing shit.

Yes, I'm cooking, taking care of family stuff, doing some volunteering, some working, some networking. But the big stuff?  Not happening.  

Fear of failure?  Fear of success?  Fear of fill-in-the-blank — I just seem stuck.

For two years I've been writing and posting twice a week like clockwork.  I haven't written anything for almost two months.  

To remedy that particular hurdle (one of many in my life at present) I've joined a writing group.  And they have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me.  Their feedback?  Rework my writing into a book.

Yikes.

Seems a tall order.  Especially since I'm stuck.

But I'm gonna try.  

Which means less blog-writing.  More focus on telling a fuller story that flows.

So less wallowing in self-awareness — and more — more being self-aware.

http://nywriterscoalition.org

Lost Identity

Lately I'm thinking, "This must've been what it was like being a housewife."

It's weird because I've never lived with a housewife.  My mom was never solely a housewife.  My whole life she worked outside the home and in addition kept the household (with our help).  Like her I cook — but unlike her, I've never been a housekeeper and I'll never be a good housekeeper because I hate cleaning house.  
I LOVE a clean house, but I don't want to be the one doing it.  
Just like salad — love eating it, hate making it.

Housewife.  Seems that's the only identity I have these days.

Not working in a regular job. No identity there.

Not a 24/7 mom anymore.  Of course my kids love me, still need me at times, but they're almost 25 and functioning pretty damn well on their own.  As my friend Lynnie says, I'm a mother, but I'm not mothering. 

Since my mom died almost nine years ago, no longer a daughter and not a sister or a sister-in-law.  With my sister and sister-in-law both gone (estranged from my only other sibling and his wife), even my sister identity no longer exists.

So I spend my days food shopping and cooking. I cook because in my family background, food is love.  Pea & lentil soup speckled with bits of smoked ham hocks and ground coriander.  A meaty Bolognese sauce loaded with minced onions, carrots, basil, oregano, and heavy cream.  A North African-inspired chicken with chickpeas and spinach — what Rachel Ray would call a "stoup" — a cross between a stew and a soup — fragrant with ginger, garlic, saffron, cumin, and allspice. 

None of it tastes like anything to me.