Where will you go and what will you do with your new year?

Broadway and Murray Street, New York City - April 2011

"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude."
~ Maya Angelou

I am of the belief that each person is in control of his or her own actions and by extension, his or her own future. If you are unhappy with the location of the most recently placed pin on your map, it's time to do something. Time, which is defined this weekend by the flipping not just of the page, but of the entire calendar! It's out of there! Put up a new one! We're on the brink of a new year and another chance to change our lives and set off in a fresh, new direction! And the best part is... we get to choose which direction that is!

Yes, I am a flag-waving, hand-clapping, sole-stomping fan of New Year's resolutions! I love the buildup and mental preparation involved with deciding which things I intend to realign in the new year. I don't commit to anything groundbreaking, but I do make them relevant and attainable and enjoyable. Why tell myself to do something I don't enjoy? I know that I genuinely revel in nourishing my love affair with words by tending to this blog, so I strive to write more often. I know I feel fabulous when I eat fresh produce and that I am at my strongest physically and mentally when I'm running so I will recommit to this, now that the time sucking (albeit enjoyable) Christmas preparations are no longer dominating my lunch hour.

Now I don't beat myself up over the fact that I typically resolve to change things in my life that "should" be natural or that I "should" already be doing (such as spending more quality time with my kids and remaining calm when things don't work out the way I'd expected) nor do I get twisted up over writing down some of the same intentions as I did last year or the year before that (consume more nutrient rich foods more often)! I simply enjoy the process of polishing off my moxie and allowing it to forge ahead into a fresh new year and see what happens while occassionaly consulting my list of New Year's resolutions!

Besides, when it comes to changing habits and swapping out the details in your life with something more beneficial, I believe that you haven't given up until you've stopped trying. Make a list of things you WILL do... as opposed to things you want to do (it's not difficult to WANT something, after all! and doesn't really effect change!). Then set out to make the daily changes as if you're already doing it. (rather than "I want to eat better" or "I will try to eat better", state it as: "I eat well every day." and then you will be more likely to ensure this statement is true!

Happy New Year to whoever may be reading this! However you ring in the new year, be sure to do it with someone you care about (if you can't be together, pick up the phone and call!) and have fun!!

View from CN Tower

"You see, boys, the world looks much different from up here."

Robin Williams as John Keating in Dead Poet's Society

My kids would talk about wanting to go up in the CN Tower on occasion, even going as far as to state they would stand on its glass floor, but I knew it was just aimless proclamation. We had once attempted to visit the Skylon Tower (and venture higher than its midway game level!) but my oldest held back and admitted that he was too nervous to go to the top, so we both knew that the CN Tower was out of the question. Talk about being aware of your limitations!

It was in May of 2009 that we finally let one of those famous yellow pods whisk us up the 775 feet to the top of the Skylon. The experience of looking down at Niagara Falls and other familiar venues in this illustrious city proved to incite excitement, not trepidation, so I knew they'd be fine going even higher up.

So three months later, on a molten August afternoon, we ascended another 360 feet into Ontario's sky to drink in the sweeping view of Toronto. It proved to be a wonderful experience, right from the beginning. 2009 was the first year that the GO Train provided weekend service from Niagara Falls to Toronto so, as an alternative to driving to a city which was, at that time, relatively unfamiliar to me, we parked at the St. Catharines Via Station and I got to sit back and relax the whole way!

The lineup to secure a spot in one of this tower's pods felt as long as its ascension. I was slightly annoyed at myself for failing to anticipate this... with minimal diversion paraphernalia, it proved to be the only taxing portion of the whole trip. I don't remember exactly how taxing... I just recall that it was a long time for little people to stand in one spot and wait their turn!

But I do remember the rush of wonder that befell their faces upon looking through one of those panes of glass. I was mesmerized myself, only having been up there once before when I was a teenager, so I can't imagine what it must have been like for children whose highest views were typically realised by climbing the steps of a playground slide! We sat at this spot for a long time, our eyes skipping along the tops of office buildings and following insect-like vehicles along ruler-like streets, and even bearing witness to an aerial proposal!

When we followed the steps up to the next level, however, the flame was abruptly extinguished as my oldest caught a glimpse of the glass floor. It was as if reality hit him and he became blazingly aware of how high we were actually standing! My youngest thought it was cool, and when he realised how nervous his brother was, it became even cooler! He sprawled out and looked up at us, which even made my legs a little jittery. The location of my feet in this picture illustrates how much of the the glass I allowed my feet to cover... I wasn't too comfortable with the imagery myself. But my oldest was done. It was suddenly time to go! I guess sometimes the excursion out of our comfort zone is best experienced through a window that is in a position that is familiar to our eyes!

Divinity on the Avenue

While zigzagging around New York City last October, I walked to Central Park by way of the Avenue of the Americas when these two massive creatures, reminiscent of Venus de Milo, intrigued me with their stature at W52nd Street. I stood there looking up at them, their gnarled exterior both grotesque and stimulating, their postures fine examples of that sexy effeminate S-curve, their bronze forms rising out of a paper thin pool of water for all to see. I remember pulling out my faithful notebook and recording the intersection for this one, because I knew I'd want to look it up later! I could just gaze at these imposing ladies for hours... these two and their friend on the other side of the building.

Whenever I'm on a photographic adventure to an unfamiliar city, I ensure that I take a few shots of intersecting street signs along the way so that I can retrace my route on Google Maps upon my return. I vigorously maintain the order of pictures on my SD card for this reason as well, just because I take so many and I like to know what it is that I've captured.

This image initially posed somewhat of a challenge for me to identify. I knew which street they were on, but I couldn't seem to pull them out of any of my online searches. All my efforts seemed to be monopolised by another familiar Sixth Avenue creation, Robert Indiana's LOVE sculpture, with which I was familiar, but not as enthralled... evidenced by the amount of love it received from my lens:

Back to the Venus statues, I did find their exact location on the satellite view of Google Maps. I like being able to see the footprint of the statues, each one living inside of squares on either side of the building:

credit: Google Maps

However, I still didn't know what they were called. I was telling a girlfriend of mine (who happens to vivaciously share my love of Manhattan) about this image I wanted to post, and she reminded me of the option of searching using "Images" instead of "Web". Of course! I had forgotten about that option! So I am happy to report that I have since learned that the sculptures in my photo are entitled Looking Toward the Avenue by Jim Dine. Pleasure to meet you, ladies!

       

 

Fence between The Kirk and The Rooms

Harvey Road, St. John's, NL

Every morning upon awakening, Mr. Lister would shudder at the thought of the task awaiting his attention in the back yard. Burdened with undesireable responsibility, he sulked in his morning shower, rolled his eyes at his dilatory reflection in the mirrored medicine cabinet, and wrung his hands as he puttered down the hall towards the kitchen. He purposely left his faded yellow curtains drawn so that he was not immediately reminded. But his intentions were futile: the neglected task was all but screaming into his hairy ears because he could think of nothing else.

"Paint me! Paint me!! PAINT ME!!!"

When he had acquired his modest but cozy bungalow a few years back, he thought nothing of the abandoned steel fence that spanned the width of his property, tenaciously retaining its bordering function, as archaic and rusted as his own spirit. He decided that the interior of the house provided sufficient coverage from the ravaging Newfoundland climate... a place to watch television, a place to assemble a sandwich, a place to lay his head... it had everything he needed! He had no intentions of ever penetrating the backyard anyway.

But over time, its posture became more evident. He began to see those ruddy posts waving at him, taunting him like every other task he chose to ignore since he retired four years ago. He had become a crabby, lonely replica of the man he used to be, and with nobody in his life to keep him in check, he just accepted whatever mood befell him on any given day.

But then, his self-depreciating attention was kidnapped by the stunningly sweet lady who moved into the old Marsden place next door. He didn't think anyone would ever move in there, much less a witty, capable widow with a zest for life and a flare for landscaping. She introduced herself as Arianna as she deftly trimmed away the overgrown yews that divided her property with his. He would step out onto his porch for his newspaper and find himself lingering in anticipation of a wave or a greeting. His quick darts into the dewy mornings became longer and longer such that he would actually engage her in conversation. Over time, his eyebrows began to lift and the little crook that had been wedged between his eyes had all but disappeared.

He decided that he wanted to brighten up his home and brought in some of the daisies that were growing along his yard, persisting every summer in spite of his grumbling and ignorance. Finally, he wanted to enjoy their abundance and share in their cheerfulness. He was preparing to invite Arianna over for a coffee. He surveyed his humble kitchen and decided that it was acceptable, especially with the happy bunch of flowers perched in a vase in the middle of the table. 

And so it came that on one particularly sunny morning, he unwittingly threw open his kitchen curtains and he saw that which he had been avoiding so feverishly. But it didn't stir up disdain, it created a feeling that had been hibernating for so long that it almost jolted him with its intensity: he felt motivation! He no longer wanted to avoid the onerous task, he wanted to tackle the job and feel satisfaction. And he wanted to see a bold red fence waving at him from his backyard upon awakening every single morning, as quirky and charismatic as his new appreciation for his address... and for life. And so he knew just what he had to do: Paint it.

Dreaming big in the big city

Esquire magazine recently held a call for submissions for original works of short short fiction. The criteria? Stories had to have a count of exactly 78 words in honour of Esquire's 78th birthday. Ten winners would be chosen to win a trip to New York City to attend a fiction workshop, and then one of those writers would receive a writing scholarship for next summer. I decided that this contest contained too many good good things for me to pass up, so I accepted the challenge. It was intriguing and fun working on stories that short that would make sense being that short and I came up with a few possibilities before settling on a favourite.

Well I just found out that my submission was not one of the ten finalists in the contest so I thought it should at least get published here:

New York TenaCity

Otis stepped trepidatiously out onto Madison Avenue, He scanned the crowd, removed his tattered fedora, and tipped it onto the sidewalk. A leather strap secured his saxophone against his body as he wrapped his fingers around its neck, raised the mouthpiece towards his lip, and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he was jostled by a dapper executive. Determined, he regrouped and proficiently weaved Ellington, releasing a smile when he heard the clinking of coins collecting in his hat.

...thanks for reading!



From South Tower to South Pool

World Trade Center Memorial, NYC

My first thought as I absorbed the tidy, minimalist setting of the reborn World Trade Center site was how glad New Yorkers must be to have had this tribute built for them. But as I looked around, I realised that it wasn't just built for New Yorkers, it was built BY New Yorkers. Everyone who shares these zip codes has shared in the loss and rehabilitation whether they lost loved ones in the attacks or not. Having only visited the city a few times and never having had the bittersweet pleasure of seeing the twin towers standing proudly over this tightly woven metropolitan forest, I can't even imagine the journey that these residents have taken to achieve this level of calm. It was eerily quiet but sublimely serene as I walked around... as if visitors were saddened to see what their towering glories have been reduced to, but realising some level of closure and content that they can now visit the site and see peace.

My young nephew who was travelling with me asked me if I thought that something like 9/11 would happen again. I was surprised at how quickly I came up with my response: I told him that the people who did this have already done their damage and probably don't feel the need to do anything else. I wasn't just providing a reassuring answer to an eleven year old.. that's actually my own opinion about it. Reassuring myself as well perhaps? And although the security process to attain entry to the memorial was elaborate and there were police officers and security guards everywhere - patrolling or remembering or both -  there was nothing foreboding about standing there. In fact, I felt fortunate to have secured the opportunity to stand there. It made me further realise that the damage was not only done to New York, but to everyone who believes in goodness... in humanity... in life...

I observed those who had suffered personal loss as they garnered what they needed from their visit: some were photographing the blue directional and identification signs, some were sitting quietly absorbing their experience, others had secured tiny flowers or rosary beads into a recessed letter that was important to them. A young lady next to me was working on making imprints into sheets of paper by colouring over the letters in the name of a loved one. These names were not simply engraved into the metal skirt that bordered each memorial pool - one pool for each tower's footprint - every letter was cut all the way through the sheet, creating a substantial reminder of those who lost their lives in those events ten years ago. I also thought it poignant that the names were not organised alphabetically, but grouped with family, colleagues, precincts, brigades, and other socially relevant assemblies. Close in life, close in memory.

Mather Arch - Fort Erie, ON

On a bright Sunday afternoon in November, I stood in an audience not to applaud a marvellous musical or theatrical performance, but rather to participate in a mass acknowledgement of feats much more revered. I must admit that I hadn't taken part in a Remembrance Day ceremony in several years, but I was just glad to be doing it in 2011, and even more proud that I brought my two young boys along with me. They stood beside me, at times with arms wrapped calmly around my legs, for a long enough period that I supposed they must have absorbed at least some of the emotion and solemn gratitude that was shared by the attending community.

As a mother who frequently runs around, both with and after, these two terrific, busy boys, I held a great appreciation for the young man in my photo who displayed great discipline and patience and maturity in his service that day. Of course this was my perception. As I'm writing this, I am thinking that perhaps he wouldn't consider it that way at all. Perhaps he would tell me that it didn't take a shred of effort on his part and that he is extremely proud to have been given the opportunity to stand there at all.

Either way, he played a poignant part in the ceremony and unwittingly provided me with one of my favourite images from the afternoon that I spent appreciating my freedom.... I mean, even the simple act of being able to drive to Fort Erie and walk across the grass and stand there in witness of this celebration of honour and remembrance is an example of why we need to attend such events, and being there made me feel incredibly proud to be Canadian.