I am working on a piece that continues the medical school thread, but it isn’t ready yet. In the meanwhile, I wanted to share more thoughts on and images of Central Park. I’ve written about my love for the park before here. On Black Friday, rather than shopping, we went for a walk in Central Park. Under the best of circumstances I don’t like shopping. To borrow a line memorably delivered by Jack Nicholson in Terms of Endearment, “I’d rather stick needles in my eyes…” than go to the mall on Black Friday. Gary and I find that line to be quite useful and it applies in this case.
Though the weather wasn’t perfect, it was gray and cold, the park still offered a lovely respite from all the holiday stresses and strains. Plus I could tell myself I was walking off some of the stuffing and sweet potato casserole I consumed the day before.
It continues to amaze me that in the midst of New York City chaos, I can find a wooded landscape. Here are some images from our foray into the park.
To add to my joy, our daughter joined us.
It was a wonderful Thanksgiving. My father-in-law, rapidly approaching his 96th birthday, my mother-in-law, on her long Alzheimer’s journey, my grandchild and children, as well as Gary’s siblings, were able to join us. 13 of us squished around a dining room table in a New York City apartment. Traffic cooperated. Parking spots were found. The food was plentiful. The stars aligned. I knew my brothers and mom were happily celebrating Thanksgiving with family in Buffalo and New Jersey respectively. All was well in Linda’s universe.
And we took a walk in the park. What could be better? I am so very grateful.
One challenge in writing this blog is that it is disjointed. I’ve jumped around quite a bit, while still trying to follow some threads in a coherent way. I appreciate you readers taking the journey with me. Hopefully it hasn’t been too confusing!
In preparing to write this piece, I reread a bunch of posts to remind myself what I had covered. I don’t want to repeat myself, but I also want to make sure that each essay stands on its own. Please feel free to comment or message me if you have questions or if I’ve lost you! I welcome the feedback.
I’ve written about the ‘tense conversation’ (read here) Gary and I had about his applying to medical school. With all that went into the application, and all the pressure he felt, medical school presented quite a test – to Gary, to me and to our relationship.
Gary sailed through high school with minimal effort. He needed only a bit more energy to get through college. He began medical school not knowing how smart he was and without well-developed study skills. I think to some degree he had ‘impostor syndrome,’ he didn’t know if he belonged or deserved to be there.
Plus, he had his father’s hopes and dreams (and money for tuition!) riding on his success. Not too much pressure! Fortunately, Gary rose to the challenge. He not only met it, but he excelled. He set a brutal work pace for himself to achieve it.
As I wrote previously, Gary and I drove a U-Haul from Queens to Pittsburgh in August of 1982. We parked the truck in front of Ruskin Hall in Oakland, the neighborhood which the University of Pittsburgh occupies, and got the keys and went up to the apartment.
Ruskin Hall – photo from University of Pittsburgh website
Gary and his parents had traveled to Pittsburgh earlier in the summer to select the apartment, this was my first time seeing it. I was pleasantly surprised, and a bit overwhelmed. Tears welled as I looked at the high ceilings, huge windows, hardwood floors and spacious bedroom and living room. It reminded me of an upper west side of New York City pre-war apartment and I hadn’t expected something so nice. I couldn’t believe this was going to be Gary and my first home together. I wasn’t actually moving in with him at that point, I was going to join him later, but I knew it would be ours. I wanted to get at least six months in my new job before moving on, and Gary needed to get acclimated to medical school on his own. I knew I would be joining him in the not too distant future and I had no expectation that we would have such a nice apartment.
We moved the furniture in, which wasn’t much, but he had the essentials. We went to the nearest mall and bought some other items, including a phone. One of those new-fangled portable models that we plugged in and didn’t think anything more of it. After finding a grocery store and stocking the pantry and refrigerator with things he could easily prepare, I took a cab to the airport and flew home. I was sad to say goodbye, but fortunately airfare from New York to Pittsburgh was $29, thanks to PeopleExpress and US Air. We planned that I would visit once a month. We also planned to talk on the phone every few days and set our first phone date for Tuesday evening at 8:00, two days from then.
I went back to work on that Monday and pined for Gary. I couldn’t wait to talk to him. The appointed hour couldn’t come fast enough. At 7:59 on Tuesday evening, I picked up the phone in Canarsie and dialed Gary’s new number in Pittsburgh. The phone rang and rang. I counted 20 times. I hung up and dialed again and let it ring another 20 times. I was worried (was something wrong? Was he sick?). I was angry (how could he forget that we had a phone date?) I was confused (what should I do? There was no one to call to check on him). I kept trying. Eventually, he answered and he had a story to tell.
Gary was in the apartment, waiting for my call, keeping himself busy by refinishing a wooden desk that he had brought from home. He heard a chirping sound. Perplexed, he walked around the apartment trying to locate the source. It was a persistent, annoying sound and he wanted it to stop. He determined that it was coming from the smoke detector (also a new-fangled device in those days). He took the step ladder and tried to reach it to disconnect it (the downside of those high ceilings). No luck. The sound stopped, but then resumed. He got the broom and took the stick and pummeled the smoke detector. It fell to the floor, but the sound began again. It finally dawned on him that it wasn’t the smoke detector, but rather it was the new telephone. In the two days that he had been in the apartment it hadn’t rung once, so he had no idea what it sounded like. We were all used to the sound of the classic bell that our phones at home used when they jingled. This phone sounded more like a bird tweeting in a high pitched insistent tone. Meanwhile, back in Canarsie, I was in a panic. I was ready to be furious, until I heard his story. Then we started laughing. Though he had mangled the smoke detector, he was fine and would have the sound of that phone chirping imprinted on his brain forever.
It was a minor but amusing misunderstanding. We managed to communicate more successfully through that first semester. Gary wrote me a letter every day (I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that he writes the kids an email every day). I was a faithful correspondent, too. And, we had no further problems with the telephone. That isn’t to say that we didn’t have our struggles during his four years of med school, but more on that next time.
I have just returned from an epic trip, as you likely know if you are a regular reader of this blog. I love seeing new places and it doesn’t have to be some exotic port of call. I get a lot out of seeing small towns in upstate New York. I still do some consulting for the New York State School Boards Association and that often requires driving 3-4 hours in various directions around the state. Anytime I can see a new town, I am interested. My most recent engagement took me to Warsaw, New York. The route to and from that town went through the Finger Lakes. On the trip out I took the most direct route, the New York State Thruway, which is not the most fascinating ride – partly because I have traveled the length of the Thruway many, many times over. On the way back, though, I took Route 20 part of the way so that I would drive past some of the lakes. I also made a stop in Seneca Falls to pay my respects to the courageous and visionary suffragettes.
I walked the Main Street of Seneca Falls looking at the shops and cafes. I went into the little museum and I walked along the river. I am always drawn to sculpture gardens and the local map indicated that there was a sculpture trail along the river. Who knew? I followed the trail and found some lovely spots.
I find the display of both natural beauty and human creativity very satisfying – it celebrates the best things in life. I had lunch in a small cafe and then got back on the road. I drove briefly on a rural route to get back to the Thruway and made my way home.
Travel is always a balancing act. The desire to see things and the desire to get where I’m going. Most often there are time constraints – appointments to attend, chores to be done, cats to be fed, responsibilities to meet. But sometimes it is the stress of knowing all that stuff awaits, rather than actually having a deadline. I feel the weight of a deadline, but there really isn’t one. I wonder if I can take more time to smell the roses, so to speak; make more stops along the road to see the unique and interesting places off the beaten path.
There are other things to balance when traveling. Gary and I took a tour of Spain a while ago, and again on this most recent Mediterranean cruise, where we spent a day in each city (not even a full day). There were quick hits. On the cruise we saw: Barcelona, Valencia (actually I missed Valencia because I was sick, but Gary saw it), Benidorm, Gibraltar, Malaga, Marseille, Villafranche, Nice, Pisa, Florence, Rome, Naples and the Amalfi Coast!! In less than two weeks!!! There are pluses and minuses to that type of trip. We saw so much. We got a taste of so many places. But there wasn’t much time in any spot – there is so much more to see in Florence, Rome, Malaga and Barcelona, in particular. We went to one museum – to see David by Michelangelo. In theory, in getting the quick hit, we can decide to go back to explore more, but given limited time and resources, is that realistic? Is it better to go one place and spend a week? Given how little vacation time most people have, what is the best way to go – see a breadth of places or have a more in-depth experience? Of course, there is no right answer, just a matter of personal preference, I suppose. And, I am well aware that it is a luxury to even be able to ask the question.
When we were walking along the seaside in Benidorm (which is on the Costa del Sol of Spain), my brother-in-law mentioned that he didn’t find resort towns very interesting. I could see his point. There is a beach, hotels, condos, shops and restaurants – not all that much different one from another. And resort towns aren’t really examples of how people in a particular country live, it is how they vacation. On the other hand, the flavor of each place is different. The landscape varies and is often beautiful (which is why people vacation there!). Some scenes of the Costa del Sol, the French Riviera and the Amalfi Coast:
Benidorm
The beach front in Benidorm
Positano, the Amalfi Cost in Italy
The Amalfi Cost
Villafranche, France
How do you feel about that? Is it interesting to you, or would you rather skip those places (unless you are going to a resort for a beach vacation)?
There were other differences in approach to travel between myself and my brother-in-law. He would often make conversation with others in our tour group or with waitstaff. It isn’t my impulse to do that. I see lots of positives in chatting with other people, but I am not that comfortable doing it. I don’t think I’m unfriendly, but it isn’t my instinct to initiate a chat. This characteristic isn’t about travel per se, but it is more on display in that context. In my day-to-day existence, if I am waiting on line or when I was in that cafe in Seneca Falls, I don’t try to make conversation with people I come across. I guess I’m wondering if I would enjoy it if I made more of an effort, or if I am comfortable this way. I don’t believe there is a right a right or wrong, just pondering (as I often do).
I can’t wait for my next trip – wherever it takes me!
I am still on a break from writing. But, I am taking in the sights, sounds, smells and experiences of traveling – so I will have more to write about in the future! In the meantime, here are some images from the trip so far.
Stories I Tell Myself 