Today I remember grandparents, especially Ted and Mike, who served in the second world war so that fascism and military authoritarianism wouldn't govern the entire world.  I don't know all of their opinions on everything, but they did fight the most important "good fight" when they were needed.  I know that they believed in working hard with their bodies and training their minds with books when they had time, they loved time outdoors and near water (whether fishing, hunting or sailing), and that they genuinely enjoyed their fellow humans.  Papa was always the first to stand up and shake someone's hand when they came to visit, and Ted told me how he liked to start up conversations in otherwise mundane situations such as sitting in waiting rooms.  I know many New Yorker's who try to avoid things like that, but Ted explained that despite those antisocial people, many people are waiting for someone to engage them and listen to them, because lots of people are lonely and don't have anyone to talk to.  He also told me how "stories intertwine" and whatever his children have been up to, at least they were all still alive.  Years as a highway patrol officer responding to accidents taught him to cherish what truly matters.

On Sunday his children got together to celebrate.  We miss both greatly.  I'm probably going to take it easier today than they would have (I read and wrote, but there isn't much yard work to be done here in Manhattan), but I understand that a large part of my being able to do that is related to how hard they fought for goodness in many aspects of their lives.  I try to do so in my own way, at least a little bit, each day.

I feel kinship with those who build and repair wagon wheels while designing and building bridges which help love's awareness know enthusiasm, having flowed from those whose daring voyages traversing wild seas brought truthful loving seeds so we can see and be utmost examples of freedom and bravery

One of my favorite quotes is that "it's not what you look at, but what you see."  Today I explained how active words such as "listen" and "look" are different from passive words such as "hear" and "see."  The gold dress and the worldwide conspiracy to revive Yanni's career are perfect examples of people looking and listening to the same things but seeing and hearing very differently.

Now I'm reading these essays about the great Philip Roth, supposedly the last "literary lion."  Well, that one's up to the readers.  I first heard of him in my first creative writing class at 19.  Our professor said that he and John Updike were the greatest living American authors.  He was right about Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson being the greatest poets in American history, MLK Jr.'s "I have a dream" speech being the greatest speech in American history, and Abraham Lincoln being the greatest speech writing president.  These weren't necessarily controversial opinions, but it was important that he directed our young minds to such legendary style, talent and wisdom.

Even though I learned of him when I was 19, I didn't get around to reading Roth until I was 23.  I was living in Queens, just past the halfway point during my first three year experience in New York City after graduation.  I'd just attempted to write my first novel.  I used my imagination to make it fiction and told those who asked as much, although it was based on everything I had experienced in my first few years as an adult.  "Write what you know" as my professor told us.  I recently read that Roth was very true to that adage in his material.  I've only read one of his novels, which was Portnoy's Complaint.  When people read his title, I doubt the word "magic" comes to mind, but it does for me.  It's not what you look at, it's what you see.

When I think of that novel, I think of the afterword to the 25th anniversary edition I'd happened to reserve from the New York Public Library.  There was a story called "Juice or Gravy."  I've read since that people think it was all an allegory for his life's work, but I like to think it's real.  He tells a story about being 23 years old, going to this cafeteria, and finding this piece of paper that someone had left there.  It had 19 sentences in a paragraph, and none of them appeared connected at all.  He left it there, but found it again later.  Eventually he took it, and supposedly made no effort whatsoever to hold onto it.  Even so, he kept finding it at the strangest times.  So he decided those were the first sentences to 19 novels he had to write, and he completed the task in 1994.  He said it was evidence of something larger than him that he couldn't control, something everyone intuits the first time they are aware that they're sitting on a toilet.  He says that all his training with rationality and logical reasoning had him rule out the supernatural, but he couldn't explain it.  I don't know the validity of the tale, but I love his story anyway, because it reminds me of that photo that called out to me near the 101 freeway. He gave me hope that someone else understood the magic.  Have you found any lately?

I was just scrolling through some files and came upon these words I wrote four years ago on May 22:

The better you become at finding it, the world knows you’re (1:01) becoming skilled at finding it, and it makes itself easier to be found in more and more ways.  It wants to be found by those who love to find it.

Listen to the wind, do you hear? 

"LOOK... SEE... TOUCH... FEEL... TASTE... MAKE... DO... while you are still magic"


(This link added on May 26, having just read The New Yorker:  "A full human being strong in the magic")

So it's Monday and I'm driving around looking for a parking space for quite some time.  If you've ever tried to do this in New York, you can imagine that after 20 minutes I'm getting pretty frustrated.  I am in this predicament because I arrived to move my car about ten minutes later than usual.  It would have only been seven, but I stopped for a couple minutes when a driver asked me for directions.  After that, everything was full.

I try parking in this one space, but there's barely room in between the sign and the closest car.  I've just barely gotten my tire behind the line without hitting the car behind me when some guy stopped at the light ahead informs me that it won't work.  I check my phone, and sure enough, I could get towed for having my carriage above the line.

So I keep driving, muttering, getting excited, seeing yet another fire hydrant, muttering some more about how this is one of the many reasons why I don't like the city, although I admit that something magical will probably happen later and I'll think it's all worth the hassle.

Then this song about potato chips comes on my jazz playlist, and I see this guy putting stuff in the back of his car.  I pull up and ask him if he's moving, and he says, "Yup."  Then he turns back and jokes, "Five dollars."  I doubt he would have stalled his plans just to extort five bucks from me, but I would have paid him anyway.

When I finish parallel parking, I look to my left and realize I am next to the Manhattan School of Music.  When I get out of the car and look up to my right, I recognize Sakura Park.

Magic, indeed

A very happy mother's day.

Thank you, Mom!

I love the beginning of May.  There is perfect weather, leaves on the trees, flowers blooming, crisp cool breeze, hippie cover band playing in the park, and apparently all people must truly appreciate teachers today.  I haven't seen much evidence that this is true, but it's nice to read on Google that there is abstract respect going on somewhere, at least in theory.  If you would like some of this imaginary admiration, just explain something to someone sometime, wait until next May 8th, and then feel free to pat yourself on the back.  You've earned some self-respect

Now that I think more, I went to work today to teach while eliciting smiles, truly laughing, energetic youth gives me new life and the understanding that at least some of what I said helped a variety of people improve the quality of their lives through improved communication of what they need to say.  So I thank you for today, but I get paid every day

ADK Mountains, New York, October 2017

New York is more than just a city

 When I was growing up, we would drive 90 minutes to "the city"

once we passed that large scary metropolis where I could never imagine residing,

we would ride in the car on our way to see grandparents,

and four hours past the city, we would see the Adirondack Mountains

and ride through their majestic splendor for close to 2 hours.

After all those rides, I still go up with friends a couple times a year

so we can see the views from new peaks

 The "Tres Ingenieros"

Although one is a software developer who runs his own business

and another is more like the "uno abogado" now

a third is a civil engineer