Shakespeare In The Park

You must know that being a avid New York fan, the event that I so look forward to every year is the annual Shakespeare In The Park performance. Every summer, the Public Theater puts on 2 plays, usually by Shakespeare but not always, that are performed in the Delacorte Theater in Central Park. Part of the reason I go is because I enjoy watching the play but it is also because it is a New York experience that you give up a pound of flesh and a deal of wonder to get these free tickets. Yet, I always go. This year, the repertoire included The Merchant of Venice and the role of Shylock is performed by Al Pacino. If New York is my city, Al Pacino is my actor. I absolutely have to go. Last time I went to the play in the park, I saw Hair (see post of August 5, 2008). While the play is the thing, the wait on line (not internet online, physically sitting on a line) before copping the tickets can actually amount to a pleasant way to spend 6 hours (weather permitting). You meet people, like you, that have sacrificed sleep, their morning and the rest of the day to do this. Once you take your place, if you have planned your day right, your time is productive and well spent. You read all those periodicals and news articles that were piling up, you take a nap and talk to your line neighbors about other NY events. I look around at the people walking or jogging through the park who look at me and my line mates not understanding the determination. I look back wondering why they aren't at work. This year, since the show was enhanced with a star, the line was longer and started earlier. Central Park doesn't open until 6 am so, thinking I was safe to leave the house at 5 am, I arrived to find the line started outside the park entrance of 82nd Street and went for about 6 blocks. Unfettered, I took my place and entered the park along with everyone else and found myself further away than I had ever been. The line monitor (security guy) pointed out, however that we were in front of the "Rock of Hope", where those in front of this point had a chance of getting tickets. I had already taken the day off, had all my reading material and my comfy sand chair with me. I took the chance and stayed. So did everyone else. Alas, things have changed since Hair. Taking a break from my spot, I walked up to the beginning of the line to see who occupied the "sure to get tickets". Strangely, they didn't look like the usual sleepy eyed, rumply clothed theater goers I typically saw. In fact, I questioning whether they really were here for the play or if they thought this was the line for a soup kitchen. A distinct odor of unsanitary sorts permeated the air as I passed them and one of them looked like this: Even with my liberal, somewhat Pollyanna attitude, I knew, this guy couldn't be here for Shakespeare or Pacino. No. I found out he was one of 10 homeless men hired by what you could call a manager of sorts to wait in line, and get tickets that the manager then sells for a couple of hundred dollars. They slept outside the park (which is what they do most nights anyway), got their tickets and received a percentage of the sale from the manager. Well it is now 1 pm and the distribution of tickets starts. My neighbors and I know it will be close but we rubbed the Rock of Hope wishing it had the magical powers to help us. We get close. We can't believe they are still giving out tickets. We start to believe and then are stopped. It is over, the monitor announces there are no more tickets. I am deflated - and then realize, we were just 10 people away.

It's always NY

With all the travels I have been doing or have done, I still can't avoid feeling there is no place for me other than New York City. It gnaws at me. Every time I think I want to live somewhere else, I find there is no where else. I blend here. I find myself being who I want to be because I can be in NYC. Don't kid yourself, the city is not necessarily for just the young and beautiful. It is for all. It is for those who are young and beautiful who go to the best clubs and lounges (like Anthony & Christine), or for the NBA Store (like Thomas) or for those that want the culture, free Shakespeare in the Park, the latest costume exhibit at the Met or brunch and a French foreign film at the Film Forum (like me). For Tony, well it just has traffic but when he gets to a place that has a great brunch and a lot of interest, he is happy. Yesterday, July 4th, it had fireworks. Theeee fireworks - the Macy's fireworks on the Hudson. We were up on the roof top deck of my cousin's apartment overlooking the Hudson. My cousin, over 60, living in the city and blending. We have the city in common if nothing else. We have been to the free concerts in Central Park with the Philharmonic, plays that have included Patti Lupone in Evita and Richard Burton in Equus. It has always been our common denominator. I have her and she has me. We blend in the city. And on July 13th, we have the concert in the park with Tchaikovsky and fireworks to look forward to. And every year, we have the Macy's fireworks on July 4th.

9/11/08

The Trade Center then: The World Financial Center rebuilt and a work in progress: Tony and I were in downtown Manhattan this weekend to see the waterfalls. at Brooklyn Piers under the Brooklyn Bridge Downtown NY is being rebuilt stronger than ever. We are more beautiful now then ever. Love you all, Ginny

Summer of Love

Coming back from California to life on the east coast was a bit of a rude awakening. The heat and humidity were horrible last week and then it thunder stormed almost daily. What am I doing here, I asked of myself. And then I remembered, to go to NEW YORK CITY of course and to see HAIR at Central Park’s Delacorte Theatre. You may remember that last year, I stood on line for my two free tickets to see Midsummer’s Night Dream where I dragged my husband whose enjoyment of Shakespeare could be compared to preparation day before a colonoscopy. This year, I saved him from his husbandly obligation and invited friends who actually wanted to see the show. I may be nuts, but the waiting in line doesn’t bother me. I never mind being outdoors on a nice day where I can read a book, meet interesting people, and fall asleep when I need to. My good friend Kim was just as eager as I was to see HAIR and agreed to the early morning start and long wait. We packing lawn chairs, some fruit and umbrellas and settled down to our spot. Our neighboring line-mates included singers and a cocktail waitress from a supposedly famous bar in the Village called Maria's Crisis Piano Bar who had finished work around 4 am, had the typical greasy breakfast and went directly to the line around 6:30 am. Coming straight from work, the waitress was decked in a black sequined pants suit being the snazziest dresser on line by far. They were quite entertaining. After surviving a torrential thunderstorm around 12 noon, Kim and I were handed our two free tickets each and drove home to rest up to return for the evening performance with our two friends, the lucky recipients of the other tickets. I saw the original version of HAIR back in 1969 but for some reason, it didn't make as much of an impression on me then as it did now. I loved this HAIR. The songs were fun, the production was lively and the set was colorful. I knew each of the characters from somewhere in my life. I remembered the music and yes, the nude scene, but had forgotten the story and how sad it turns out. A group of free spirited hippy friends (the tribe) are protesting against the Vietnam War when one of their members, Claude, receives his draft notice. Claude is torn between making his parent's proud by serving his country or burning his draft card like his other male friends. The play not only depicted the era perfectly, but also captured the idealism of youth. Life gets serious after school is over and sometimes it is met with confusion and rebellion. Things haven’t changed in 40 years. Seeing HAIR was the culmination of a truly wonderful day. So in case anyone wants to try it here are the tips I am passing on to get the tickets: • Bring a low lawn chair, some snacks (if you want), a good book, and rain poncho (or a big plastic sheet for cover). • Arrive no later than 6:30 am. • You can bring your own snacks but there is a deli that will deliver to the line – no kidding. The line monitor (the guy who tells you what the rules are) will give you the number and a delivery person on a bike brings your order. • You can leave the line to go to the bathroom, which is by the theater but you are not allowed to leave the park to go to Starbucks (unless you make friends with the line monitor who overlooks your Starbucks cups when you return). • No one can join you on line to get tickets unless they came with you in the beginning. • When tickets are distributed at 1 PM, go home, take a nap, shower and return with the lucky friends who you have chosen to be the recipients of your extra ticket. A picnic in Central Park (they allow wine) before the performance is the way to go. Lucky friends should provide the food as you were on line all day. • Know what you are waiting for. There were two productions this season, Hamlet and HAIR. To pass the time, and make friends with the line monitor, I asked him to tell me a funny story about waiting in line. He told me of a guy whom this week, stood on line for the usual 5 or so hours, got his tickets and went to the evening performance of HAIR thinking he was going to see HAMLET - and complained about it. At the end of the show, the performers invite some of the audience to come and dance on stage to the song “Let the Sun Shine In”. You know I was up there. Kim even got a hug from Claude! Maybe I’m crazy, but I didn’t mind the wait. I had to see HAIR. To me, it was sooo worth it.

26 Years

I was a June bride. A little corny but I was. I always wanted to be married in June. I had my wedding dress picked out when I was 17. It was a variation of a style my mother made for one of her customers, only more beautiful because my mother made it for me. It was a very simple silk, jersey gown that was cut on the bias, somewhat full, from the neckline down. The material gathered with a belt my mother hand-beaded in the design of the Greek key. She told me later that when she started to cut the material, her expertly skilled hand shook. I remember my mother yelling at me while she was making the belt. I was so skinny then and every time she went to fit me, I had lost more weight . I was so nervous. Not because of getting married. I was just worried that I wanted everything to be perfect. I think the belt would go around my thighs now. On June 5th 1982, the day was hot, humid and raining horrendously. Unlike the strapless, backless and shear gowns of today, the dress my mother made had long sleeves with a high neck. Heaven forbid any part of me was exposed prior to my being a legitimately, married woman. She was proud, prim, and proper. I was sweating to death. Last Thursday, Tony and I celebrated our 26th anniversary. We went to NY for cocktails and dinner (guess who's idea that was). The evening started as it usually does when we go into the city, with us stuck in traffic for over one hour and with my husband swearing at everyone that can't move fast enough or change lanes quick enough. He hates traffic jams and it happens on a regular basis when we go to the city. But it was our anniversary so he bit his tongue and I tried to keep him amused. We discovered a few new places in the Meat Packing District where the crowd is not all under 30 (or under 35 or 45 and so on) and the females (like me) are women not waifs. We had cocktails here and dinner here. It was great. We laughed about being together for 26 years and not having anything in common. I pleaded with him to get an apartment and move into the city. He showed me his ideal house plan - this. We are hopeless or maybe hopelessly in love. I suppose if we continue to go for cocktails and dinner, we could survive the rest of our lives like this.

The Bonus

I got a bonus. No not the monetary kind although that might have been nice too. It was the spare time kind you get when you just got an extra hour of sleep, or it is the day we set the clocks back. But I got a big bonus. It was on Friday. I got up in the morning ready to go through he motions of preparing for the work day and then I looked outside. It had snowed, it was still snowing and we were already under 6". The schools closed. Am I going to work - I said no, no no. I'm taking the day off. I think in the last 20 years, I have never taken a day off for weather. When I worked in NY all I had to do was get to the bus and then it wasn't my problem anymore. Working in Jersey, I can only remember one time, last year, when the roads were bad on a workday but I just went in late. But this day, with the snow still coming down and predictions that it would for some time, I said no, it is so not worth it today. I got up and made my Saturday morning breakfast, started to read my New York Times (I guess that tip I gave the delivery woman at Christmas paid off) and watched the Today show. They were in Miami doing a segment on spring break. I didn't even feel jealous. I was home, safe and ready to do the homework I planned for Saturday a day earlier. The night before, I had bought shrimp and fish fillets so to end my bonus day, I cooked up my kick-ass pompodoro sauce, made the spaghetti and with a bottle of Mondavi Chardonney had a snow day dinner with the entire family. Life is good. Now it is Saturday. My free day. So what do I do. I go to NY of course to take pictures. So here are the fruits of my day. And of course the streets without a drop of snow - that's New York

Christmas in the City

It's coming, it's practically here. No not Christmas, or New Year's, it's my weekend in NY city. Tony and I are leaving early Friday morning. We're staying at this hotel. We are taking the train layout tour of New York starting here, going there, and here. Oh, some non-train stuff of course like this place. I hear it is going to snow - good! I may never come home. If anyone has recommendations on dinner or drink places, please send me a comment. Will let you know how it goes.

Me and Bobby K

I am reading a book called "Robert Kennedy and His Times" that I started a year ago. It was suggested reading by a police officer who was part of a support group meeting I was attending on September 11 of 2006. The reason, he said, was that Bobby suffered from "survival guilt" and he thought I could relate Bobby was Attorney General at the time of his brother's assassination. He was described as "serious in purpose, a hard worker and devoted to his family (particularly to John). As committed to upholding the law as he was to his brother, when John was assassinated, Bobby was shattered. Dedicating his life to his brother's career and to upholding the law of the United States, his world was demolished. His brother was killed, and he could do nothing to stop it. He questioned his faith and asked "Why God"1. On September 11, 2001, I was in the World Trade Center complex when the first plane hit. My co-workers were leaving the building going in different directions. I left my office watching bodies falling from burning buildings. Boarding the ferry to Hoboken, I watched the first tower collapse as the ferry pulled away from the dock. I questioned what I was seeing. It made no sense. I always felt I was the kind of person who would know what to do in an emergency, could handle most anything and be there to help others. But this day, I did nothing to help anyone other than myself. I felt alone, scared and somewhat embarrassed that I was so safe while so many died. I spent the remaining days of that week home wanting to be with my family. It made me feel safe and in control of my world. I had nervous energy so for the next 3 days, I washed every window in the house and organized all our pictures into several photo albums making an album for each of the 3 kids. I was nesting and trying to feel in charge again. That Sunday, I went to church. I was a Sunday School teacher for the 6th grade. As I drove to church, I thought that the kids would want me to explain Why God did this. Until I got there, I didn't know what I was going to say. So I said just that, There is no answer. Why it happened, is a mystery to us in life that cannot be explained. But one thing I can say is that God didn't do this, man did.

Reference: 1: Robert Kennedy and His Times by Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., copyright 1978

A Midsummer's Night Dream

You must have felt like this. Something you see in a store attracts you, you ponder it, walk out of the store without it and spend the next week or more obsessed with wishing you had it. I’ve done this a lot but this summer I became obsessed with getting the free tickets for the Shakespeare in the Park play in Central Park. Every year, the Public Theatre in NYC puts on 2 of Shakespeare’s plays in the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park. The only way to get tickets is to stand on line until the tickets are distributed at 1 PM. There are 2 tickets per person and only for the performance that same night. I had to go and devised a plan to get my tickets. Last Saturday morning, I woke up, at 5:30 AM, packed a blanket, a book and some food and left for Central Park. I found a great on-the-street parking spot, near the 77th Street entrance of the park and got on line at 6:30 AM. Am I any crazier than those who stood on a line at midnight for the latest Harry Potter book, the latest Madden video game or an IPhone. No, I didn’t think so. There I was in Central Park at 6:30 on a beautiful Saturday morning looking, like everone else, like a homeless person. There was a women sitting in one of those folding green chairs with a blanket wrapped around her, with a hooded sweatshirt that said "Harvard" on the front and big Jackie O sunglasses. Others were asleep in their aero beds. Many past the time with cards, scrabble or some other game. One group, obviously experienced in line sitting, played games and ate on their portable table with a slatted top where the legs screwed off and the top rolled up into a bag. It’s one of those things you buy at Crate and Barrel and then find a use for it. After getting tickets, all would go home and dress for the performance. Although they still didn’t look like they were going to gala night at the opera, we all looked much cleaner. At 1 PM, I got my tickets. I didn’t savor the moment too long as my next challenge was to get my husband to go to the play – without a puss on his face. The play was A Midsummer's Night Dream - a little daunting to follow for your first exposure to Shakespeare, but I assured him he would have a good time and it would cost him virtually nothing. He agreed. I packed a picnic to eat in the park and we drove in. AGAIN we found street parking within one block from 77th Street. Truly, this was my lucky day. The play was good and, as promised, we did have fun afterwards at a bar on Columbus Ave. The night ended without getting stuck in traffic, paying a fortune for parking, or eating at some mediocre restaurant. For me, it’s not about the play; it’s about NYC. You’ve got to know me to understand.