I just spent a long weekend in New York City with my sister Mary. She flew in from California for some interviews for a video she is working on for her employer, the non-profit Pachamama Alliance. I was glad to be able to redeem the Continental frequent flyer miles I had accumulated years ago--though they charged me $80 to use them. (A full-price last-minute ticket would have cost $1,025!) I left Greensboro at 6:00 Friday morning and was at the hotel before 9:30 a.m. Mary had arrived the night before at the hotel, the Millennium Hilton in lower Manhattan, right beside the big hole that was the World Trade Center. She even gave me half of the $16 breakfast sandwich (but not the $8 orange juice) she had bought at the hotel restaurant.
To save money I had decided to use public transportation whenever possible. I took a bus to and from the Newark airport--$7.50 each way for "seniors"--and the Port Authority Terminal in Manhattan. Then I took a $2 subway ride to the hotel which had a stop almost right in front. While Mary did her thing on Friday, I went to the Museum of Modern Art and wandered around mid-town Manhattan. I bought a 4-ride Metro ticket for $7 ($1.75 a trip). I had ridden the subway years ago, but had no idea how huge and complex the system is now, with multiple entrances and exits to stations and multiple levels of trains. The whole of Manhattan is an amazing maze of tunnels. People who can't walk far or climb steps would have problems, though. (I guess they take buses, which I didn't try.)
Friday night Mary and I walked to Battery Park and lower Manhattan, finally ending up at the Fraunces Tavern restaurant which was almost deserted, as was the neighborhood. We had a great meal, reasonably priced. I recommend it. We decided to get a cab back to the hotel--a short $5 ride through very quiet streets.
Saturday morning (and Sunday morning as well) we enjoyed swimming in the hotel's beautiful indoor pool, then set out to explore Washington Square and Greenwich Village, planning to have lunch there before heading up to the Museum of Natural History. It took us so long and so much walking to find a restaurant we could agree on that we didn't head uptown until 2:00. Our "feet were beat" after only a couple of hours in the museum--another place that is much bigger than I could fathom--so we left and went back (by subway) to the hotel. We decided to have pizza in our room before heading out for the Broadway show "August: Osage County". Most of the pizza places near the hotel had closed by 6:00 so Mary had to walk around for a while to find a Papa John's Pizza. By the time she got back with it I was starving. It was the best pizza I've tasted in years!
Because we were tired from all the walking during the day (and to allow us time for a Scrabble game) we decided to take a taxi to the theater. Riding with the African driver through Saturday evening mid-town traffic was much more harrowing than finding the right train(s) to our destination would have been. It cost $15 just to get near the theater. We had walk the last half block because the streets were so crowded. After ogling Times Square and its wall-to-wall weird people after the show we took the subway back downtown. (Who ARE all those people jamming the streets at midnight? Crazy tourists like us?)
After our Sunday a.m. swim we had a late breakfast and played Scrabble in a deli near the hotel. Bacon, eggs, juice and toast cost each of us just $6 as opposed to the $24 Mary had paid at the Hilton. Then we were off to the Guggenheim Museum--another $1.75 subway ride. We had to walk several blocks from the subway stop but enjoyed seeing the fancy digs around Park Avenue and Central Park.
Millions of tulips and other flowers have been planted all over the city and they were in glorious bloom. The streets of Manhattan, at least where we walked, were clean, as were the subways. People were friendly and helpful. When I had trouble getting my Metrocard to work, a young man heard me grumbling and opened the emergency exit (and set off a loud alarm) to let me in. I remarked that he must be a native New Yorker to have the courage to do that. He told me he had been born in Asheville, NC. A young woman who worked on Wall Street got off at Grand Central Station and led me to the exit I was seeking before she went to her own business appointment in another direction. And the subway musicians were very entertaining.
By the time I left Sunday night I was exhausted. I was stiff and sore for days afterward, too. The only glitch in the schedule was the half-hour flight delay leaving Newark for GSO. How nice and quiet the Greensboro airport is!
I'm glad to be home, but I'm ready to go back as soon as I can figure out when to go and how to pay for it!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Mrs. Wren Is Back!
Mrs. Wren (or one of her look-alike flock) is back! For the third time in as many years a Carolina wren has built a nest in my garage and laid eggs in it before I realized it. (I used to throw the nests out before they were completed.) This year's wren just renovated last year's nest. I wonder if it's the same family. She has laid 3 little speckled eggs on which she sits dutifully even when I shine a flashlight on her. I leave the garage door open a foot or so to let her come and go.
Last year 2 babies hatched out of 4 eggs. I thought they might die in the hot garage while we were on vacation, but the fledglings hopped out of the nest and flew away the day we got home. Maybe this is one of those babies.
One of the two eggs that didn't hatch was later broken by an over-curious child, but the other one is still on an upper shelf. I might have left it in the old nest as a "nest egg" but mama wren didn't need that encouragement to lay more.
The bird population around my house seems large. I don't put out bird seed or have bird houses as Cathy does, but several bushes have berries which provide an ample food supply, especially for robins and cardinals.
As much as it is an annoyance to have to remember to leave the garage door open, there is joy in seeing the little mother wren hunkered down on her eggs, then finding that the eggs have hatched and the brood growing.
That's one of the reasons I love this time of year and will keep the nest area safe and protected as long as the wrens will keep coming back.
Last year 2 babies hatched out of 4 eggs. I thought they might die in the hot garage while we were on vacation, but the fledglings hopped out of the nest and flew away the day we got home. Maybe this is one of those babies.
One of the two eggs that didn't hatch was later broken by an over-curious child, but the other one is still on an upper shelf. I might have left it in the old nest as a "nest egg" but mama wren didn't need that encouragement to lay more.
The bird population around my house seems large. I don't put out bird seed or have bird houses as Cathy does, but several bushes have berries which provide an ample food supply, especially for robins and cardinals.
As much as it is an annoyance to have to remember to leave the garage door open, there is joy in seeing the little mother wren hunkered down on her eggs, then finding that the eggs have hatched and the brood growing.
That's one of the reasons I love this time of year and will keep the nest area safe and protected as long as the wrens will keep coming back.
Uncle Lewis
My uncle, Lewis Davis, died Sunday at age 84 in Newberry, SC. He and my mother's sister, Libby, had been childhood sweethearts. They were married at age 21 and would have celebrated their 63rd wedding anniversary this June. He was a caring, devoted husband, brother, father, grandfather and great-grandfather, but especially for my family a wonderful uncle, great-uncle and great-great-uncle. He was quite active until pancreatic cancer laid waste to his body less than a month after being diagnosed.
Lewis doted on women--his wife, daughters, granddaughters and nieces. No wonder he was made an Honorary Life Member of the Women of the Church. His only grandson, Stowe, was the recipient of the U.S. flag that covered his casket though.
Lewis didn't do things half way. When the brush behind one daughter's house needed clearing, he got a couple of goats to do the work and ended up raising a herd of them--including several "fainting" goats. Pet bunnies became several hutches full of all kinds of rabbits. He kept a flock of chickens, where my grandchildren loved to go "pick eggs"--especially the light blue kind. He helped his granddaughter raise and train show horses.
His garden fed not only the family but also many friends and people in need in the community. A photo of him in the garden won first prize in his granddaughter's high school photography contest.
He was Superintendent of his church's Sunday School and the most influential of the church Elders. He mentored many young people. He was instrumental in building a new Young Life Center, which was named for him, though he didn't live to see it dedicated.
As a manager, then district manager, of B. C. Moore's Department Stores, he had access to the Newberry store which he opened to us after hours to buy anything we wanted at "cost + 10%" or sometimes at no charge. Now that was really fun!
Every evening they were there, he took my daughters to a local convenience store named "Buddy's" where they could get any treats they wanted. He bought them huge Easter baskets and one year even some cute yellow ducklings--which Cathy loved carrying around until one doo-dooed down the front of her Easter dress.
He shelled pecans by the thousands. My last gift from him and Aunt Libby was more than two pounds of beautiful nut halves they had shelled together.
His sons-in-law and their siblings always called him Mr. Davis, a sign of the respect he engendered in anyone he dealt with.
He was a remarkable man, and this world--and I--will be poorer for his having left it.
Lewis doted on women--his wife, daughters, granddaughters and nieces. No wonder he was made an Honorary Life Member of the Women of the Church. His only grandson, Stowe, was the recipient of the U.S. flag that covered his casket though.
Lewis didn't do things half way. When the brush behind one daughter's house needed clearing, he got a couple of goats to do the work and ended up raising a herd of them--including several "fainting" goats. Pet bunnies became several hutches full of all kinds of rabbits. He kept a flock of chickens, where my grandchildren loved to go "pick eggs"--especially the light blue kind. He helped his granddaughter raise and train show horses.
His garden fed not only the family but also many friends and people in need in the community. A photo of him in the garden won first prize in his granddaughter's high school photography contest.
He was Superintendent of his church's Sunday School and the most influential of the church Elders. He mentored many young people. He was instrumental in building a new Young Life Center, which was named for him, though he didn't live to see it dedicated.
As a manager, then district manager, of B. C. Moore's Department Stores, he had access to the Newberry store which he opened to us after hours to buy anything we wanted at "cost + 10%" or sometimes at no charge. Now that was really fun!
Every evening they were there, he took my daughters to a local convenience store named "Buddy's" where they could get any treats they wanted. He bought them huge Easter baskets and one year even some cute yellow ducklings--which Cathy loved carrying around until one doo-dooed down the front of her Easter dress.
He shelled pecans by the thousands. My last gift from him and Aunt Libby was more than two pounds of beautiful nut halves they had shelled together.
His sons-in-law and their siblings always called him Mr. Davis, a sign of the respect he engendered in anyone he dealt with.
He was a remarkable man, and this world--and I--will be poorer for his having left it.
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