New York

State of Health

A woman stood near to the #1 train door holding a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She wore a cool leather jacket over a simple black dress and low heels. The train jerked along the track heading from the Upper Westside toward South Ferry, but she never once reached for the pole to hang on.

She was not me.

I did my best to grab any available seat on the train. When forced to stand I gripped the center pole with both hands, planted my feet, flexed my knees, and reminded myself that I do have some core strength. I admired folks who ran up and down flights of stairs as I clung to the railing and kept my eyes on my feet.

Traveling is a good test of one’s physical and mental health. Flexibility is key. We’d prepared for cold weather and had to shift our wardrobes as best we could when temperatures reached 70+ degrees. A nice problem to have, while it lasted.

Traveling also allows a spectrum of emotions. Gratitude first, for having the means and ability to get out of town. Bittersweet nostalgia as well, during our morning stroll through Strawberry Fields in Central Park.

I felt some regret, in our afternoon Artistic, Alternative Greenwich Village Walking Tour, that I didn’t pay enough attention to what was going on in the 1960s. In the Village there were the Women’s House of Detention protests, the Stonewall Riots, and Jane Jacob’s quest to save Washington Park.

I was thrilled to spot the Statue of Liberty when we flew into Newark, and it was exciting to take a ferry out to Liberty Island a few days later and see all of Manhattan from the water. The story of the Statue of Liberty’s creation was surprising and inspirational. I didn’t know the statue was made of copper, for example, or that the French people paid for the statue and Americans paid for the pedestal.

But reading the inscription on the statue left me in despair with how far away we’ve come from Emma Lazarus’s sonnet “The New Colossus,” written to raise money for the pedestal.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

There was joy as well. There’s nothing better than seeing a great band like the Tedeschi Trucks Band perform in a venue they love, the beautiful Beacon Theatre.

Our view of the entirety of Manhattan from the Top of the Rock (at the top of Rockefeller Center, ice skaters below) was impressive as was the attire of the young professionals on a team building trip. Wide legged pants are definitely a thing these days.

The play we saw that night at the August Wilson theatre, Dog Day Afternoon, was terrific and timely despite being set in 1972. We were twenty years old back then. The young sound and stage design student sitting next to us said he’d just turned twenty-one, was from Hong Kong, didn’t have legal status in the U.S., and planned to move elsewhere once he earned his degree, unless we knew someone willing to pay him under the table.

We all liked the play a lot.

We spent the better part of a cold, rainy, then snowy day at the American Museum of Natural History. We calculated that our tour guide was five years older than we are. He was sharp, and spry, with an impressively understandable way of explaining the creation of life.

Favorite quote: “Human life is no more valuable than any other form of life. Everything alive today is equally evolved.”

We also learned about cats’ jaws and why they are such good biters.

We found New Yorkers in general to be friendly and helpful. When we first arrived at our hotel and got out of the Lyft, a man walking his dog stopped and said, “Welcome to New York.” The doormen at the hotel always seemed delighted to see us. At any moment of map confusion, passersby offered direction.

Maybe it’s because we’re old.

We also felt safe taking the subway and walking the streets, although we were always back in our comfortable room before midnight.

Well past our usual bedtime.

Stay up late with me on Saturday, April 4th for Artwalk in the Artist Village in Santa Ana, California. Stop by the LibroMobile Stage from six to ten p.m. where five women over the age of fifty (including me) will be reading from their work and signing books. It’s the first of a series of events sponsored by LibroMobile that will include poets, authors, and artists.

I am most definitely the one furthest away from fifty in this lineup, but I’m delighted to be a part of it.

And please save the date for Litfest in the Dena, May 2nd and 3rd at the Pasadena Presbyterian Church. Friday night at 6:30 p.m. in Pasadena, California. I’m on a panel with storytellers Victoria Patterson, Dana Johnson, and Lisa Alvarez talking about Storytelling as a Political Force.

You can find my novels The Lockhart Women and Those People Behind Us wherever you like to buy eBooks, paperbacks, and audiobooks. Signed paperbacks are always on the shelf at LibroMobile.

To win a signed copy of Those People Behind Us, (US readers only) write back and let me know your travel survival tips. Congrats to Gin who won the last giveaway.