Backstory: Three years ago I bought an iPhone X at the Apple Store in Portland, Or. The technician made sure that all the data from my old iPhone was transferred to the iPhone X, that I received a discount because I was trading in the old model and the old model. was recycled.
New story: The Apple store on West 14 Street, NYC, Aug. 3. Because of my previous experience, I assumed my new 11 Pro iPhone would be all set to use. I bought it because I had dropped my X and it flashed vertical neon lines across the screen. The genius with whom I had an appointment let me assume that I’d receive full service. He introduced me to another employee who handed me a box. “That’s your 11 Pro,” she said. Apple had not removed the X data, had not followed the Portland, Or. procedure. I told a manager that the genius should have stated that Apple no longer set up your new iPhone for immediate use. He said the Covet was to blame. Apple is using the Virus to make customers do Apple’s work.$1500 later and in shock I contacted my computer specialist and we made the iPhone 11 Pro almost up and running. Except Apple had not included a Sim card so I can’t make outgoing calls.
If you go to the 14th Street Apple store be lawyer-like. Don’t be like me and assume nonexistent service.
On to good stuff. I’m attending Writers Police Academy virtual two day conference. Yesterday, courtesy of Zoom, I learned about Fingerprinting, Drugs and Homicide. Today, there’s a lively chat before the meetings begin.On to Child Abduction and Murder. Did I mention that I write crime novels??
The Irish Hunger Memorial at Vesey Street and North End Avenue is a few blocks north of the Battery and flanking the Hudson. It’s a large structure incorporating an Irish cottage and stones from every Irish county. It commemorates the over one million who starved to death between the years 1845-1852, courtesy of the English. My friend and I walked south on the Hudson. We’re both used to watching the river activity :the different kinds of boats and the ferries which are once again plying their trade to New Jersey and Staten Island. So it was great fun to look inward at the beautiful gardens and to discover The Irish Hunger Memorial. It’s a beautiful, mysterious structure not without controversy, something dear to the Irish.
The High Line from Gansevoort to 34 Street. On a blisteringly hot Sunday a friend and I walked on the High Line for the first time in four months. She arranged the by-appointment- only-visit. Promptly at 12:30 we climbed the Gansevoort stairs and wended our way through overgrown foliage. The usual rules applied: masks and six feet of separation. It’s still fun to peer into people’s apartments or should I say condos. And to watch the flotilla of boats on the Hudson. At 34th Street we were instructed to leave.
I asked Micah Busey for his Terrence McNally tiny prayer. It was the first one and here it is.
March 24th Tiny Prayer (for Terrence McNally, Tony-winning playwright, who died of complications of coronavirus):
Thank you for giving unapologetically vibrant voice to queer love that will live forever, outlasting viruses that might kill bodies, but never Truth.
Today a friend and I walked north from 14 Street to 34 Street and then we walked south in the Hudson River Park. What a marvel. The Hudson is to your left. Luscious bushes and trees are to your right blocking you from the west side traffic. In the middle is the Pier 62 Carousel. Is NYC a carousel rich town? There’s one in Central Park and one at the Battery. There are wooden benches reminiscent of fifties movies, Stone seats, mounted chairs. The bikers, bless them, stayed in their lanes and we pedestrians in ours. I couldn’t resist Frying Pan painted large on the side of a retired lightship.
Black women will celebrate Black Joy at Caveat on July 14. The women range in age from twenty through seventy. Get tickets at www.generationwomen.us.
The Rev. Micah Busey and I have been walking and talking in Washington Square Park. He’s written tiny prayers. They’re gentle, guilt free and popular in the Judson community. Micah’s first tiny prayer was written in March at the beginning of the coronavirus. Terrance McNally, the playwright, had died because of the virus and Micah honored him with the first tiny prayer.
This is a recent Tiny Prayer (for those who just want a hug):
May you reach out to someone today, through a screen or maybe a simple shift of your eyes over the brim of your mask, and invent a new sign of affection, and for just a moment, instead of focusing on the current scarcity of our most common modes of physical contact, may you focus on the abundance of creativity this time requires, have fun with the challenge, and become an inventor of new language, new customs, and newly deepened connection.
The virus has given birth to a number of blogs and webinars. Glimmerglass’s director, Francesca Zambello, writes glowing descriptions of town and country life. The photos of her recipes are scrumptious.Her tribute to Harriet Tubman is very moving. In a recent entry she announced Glimmerglass Glimpses which is Thursdays at 5:30 pm on www.glimmerglass.org. On Wednesday afternoon Jim Zogby discusses current affairs with an emphasis on Israel. The 14th Street Y offers exercise classes. Sisters in Crime has had several informative meetings. Currently, I’m signed up for Thrillerfest.
On the eve of July 4, a friend and I took the 6 to Brooklyn Bridge, walked around Battery Park and took the Staten Island Ferry. Battery Park is quiet and a pleasure to walk through.
Castle Clinton is still there. Inspire of its grand name, it was a fort that never saw action. We went by the Seaglass carousel, housed under a silver covered slanted top. The park includes Hope Garden – a memorial to AIDS victims, the East Coast Memorial which consists of eight pylons that honor servicemen who lost their lives in World War ll. There’s Marisol’s Merchant Marine Memorial and the ferry that’ll take you to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, not to mention Staten Island.
Stuyvesant Town and its rich cousin, Peter Cooper, have never looked better. The 80 acres are decked with deep blue, creamy white, and delicate purple hydrangeas. They have no scent. The Oval lawn is robust, green and has the scent of childhood walks in forests. Gardners, is there anything more difficult than tending a lawn? Our lawn is dotted with white Adirondeck chairs. Why does summer flood me with happy Indiana childhood memories?
Since March I’ve gotten to know StuyTown better from daily walks under the plane trees.
In the past few weeks I’ve ventured out. Time spent in Washington Square Park, immediately north of Judson Memorial Church, walks in Battery Park to visit the Merchant Marine memorial and to take the Staten Island ferry, walks along the Hudson. Lately, I’ve taken the subway to Brooklyn to attend a friend’s birthday. This week a friend and I went in search of her Green-Wood burial site. It was a sizzling hot day so we stayed for about two hours before rushing into the dark ,clean, air -conditioned R train.
Yesterday I descended into the L’s snazzy new Ave. A and 14th Street station, changed to the G and joined a friend at Bergen and Smith for an outdoor supper in one of our favorite French restaurants. I put ice cubes in my red wine even in a French restaurant.
My father worked as a newspaperman on the New Orleans Time Picayne. He moved to NYC and worked for Dorothy Day. When World War II began he wanted to support his country but didn’t want to bare arms. He joined the Merchant Marine. His ship, the SS Pew, was torpedoed in 1943. He died at 38.
In 1991 Marisol Escobar sculpted a moving tribute to these brave men. The sculpture is off of Bowling Green in the Upper New York Bay. Three seamen are facing death and terrified. A fourth man is drowning in the water. He drowns twice a day. One of his mates extends his hand to him.
The United States Merchant Mariner suffered more casualties than any other American service during World War II,
What a week! A Black man strangled by a former Minnesota police officer, a Black man attacked in Central Park by an entitled white woman, Netanyahu bragging about annexing more land from the Palestinians, and , as usual, our president ranting like a spoiled brat on Twitter. Anybody mention coronavirus?
Yesterday I accompanied Rev. Micah Busey, in clerical garb, to Foley Square for a rally to honor George Floyd and other Black Americans killed by white Americans. I gave up estimating how many people were there. Four hundred? Five hundred? On the periphery the police watched. It was noisy. The young crowd thundered “No peace. No justice!” There were the exhilarating moments of unity. I left feeling smug about enduring the heat and the noise and the crowds. I hate/love rallies. And you?
I was going to include a cute homemade doc about dogs. Forget that. It doesn’t seem appropriate to switch to Disney world in the midst of our national tragedy, prejudice.
Instagram has a perceptive analysis: https://www.instagram.com/tv/CAyfFnaJbyL/?igshid=ah5uv5b266y4