Category: Museums

American Portraits

Does anyone get their portrait painted anymore, other than presidents and first ladies? I was thinking about that after going to two exhibitions, one at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the other at the Whitney.

The first one was entitled Sargent in Paris, and it explored the emergence of John Singer Sargent as one of the premier portrait painters in the 1880s. He was commissioned by people in high society to paint themselves, their wives and children. I don’t travel in high society, so it is possible that old money, or the richest folks among us, still do that. If they do, I haven’t heard of the artists who do it or seen exhibits of their work. I am more familiar with hiring a photographer to do a shoot, but even that isn’t common, though some do it for an engagement or new baby. Back in the day, and I’m referring to the Guilded Age, it was apparently a sign of status to engage someone like Sargent to do a portrait.

From what I read while I walked through the galleries, Sargent was quite adept at nurturing the relationships one needed to sustain his career. There is no denying Sargent’s artistry, I love his work, but I think his ability to hobnob with the circles that could pay him enhanced his career and reputation. I wonder if he liked that part of his job. Maybe it came naturally to him. I would hate it. It is possible, like Michael Jordan who had both talent and tenacity, Sargent had both the social skills and the exceptional talent that allowed him to achieve the heights of success as a portrait artist.

Though Sargent was an American, he only visited here. His parents were ex-pats who moved around Europe. He was born in Florence, and he died in London. Despite spending a good deal of time overseas, he did leave his mark here in America, particularly in Boston where his murals decorate the ceiling and walls of the main branch of the public library. He, unlike some artists, was celebrated in his lifetime. There was a period after he died where his work was less respected because it was viewed as the work of a mere illustrator, without much creativity. Then his reputation rose again as the art world took another look at the nuance of his portraiture and skill of his brushwork.

Here are some examples of the range of his work from the exhibit:

an unusual approach to portrait painting
an example of making the color white interesting
A view of the Alhambra in Spain

I love Sargent’s canvases – his formal portraits and his paintings of nature. He was so versatile. He could do watercolors, and he could paint in the Impressionist style. Whatever he did, his use of color was so vibrant, you can feel the texture of the fabric of the dress his subject wore. He also makes white come alive, which is unique – not everyone can make white an interesting color. And, even though he was often simply painting a portrait of someone I never heard of nor cared about, he manages to make them compelling.

This is the one commonality I found between the Sargent exhibit and the other show I attended, Amy Sherald: American Sublime at the Whitney. You may know Amy Sherald as the artist who painted Michelle Obama’s portrait, and that canvas is included in the exhibition at the Whitney. That work got some attention, but of the pieces on display that one was the least interesting to me.

Like Sargent, Sherald paints ordinary people but makes them notable. I suppose it isn’t accurate to say Sargent portrayed “ordinary” people, since they were, with few exceptions, very rich, but they weren’t famous in the way we understand fame today. Sherald’s subjects, with the exception of Michelle Obama, aren’t rich or famous– they are regular people. Sherald is interested in presenting people of color, offering less emphasis on their skin tone and more on their everyday lives – reflecting their joy, their dignity, their pride. She also plays with our expectations of gender and race, showing people in surprising settings.

Sherald’s work is also a celebration of color, but in an entirely different way than Sargent. Her canvases are bold, and while Sargent may have been considered bold, it was in the context of the Victorian era. Sargent’s most controversial painting, Madame X, presented a woman with the strap of her evening gown off her shoulder, which he later fixed to appease the sensibilities of the time. Sherald is far more daring, pushing the boundaries of our expectations. I’m sure some viewers, I’m thinking of social conservatives, would not appreciate her perspective. I love that her work makes you stop, think and reconsider assumptions.

Here are some examples of her work:

Sherald’s canvases, with the notable exception of the Obama portrait, are not on commission. She spots people on the street that she finds interesting for one reason or another, or she has an inspiration, and she asks permission to photograph that individual and then paints from the photograph. Unlike Sargent, she was not able to make a living as an artist until later in her life. She waited tables until she was 38 years old.

Though I did not set out to see these two exhibits to compare and contrast them, it turned out to be an interesting exercise. If you are in NYC, I recommend seeing either one or both. You can expect huge crowds at the Metropolitan. I went on a member preview day and there were lines. I’m not sure if that was due to the popularity of Sargent or the popularity of the Met. It was far less crowded at the Whitney which made for a more enjoyable and relaxed experience. There are plenty of other things to see at each museum, obviously, and if you haven’t been to the Whitney since it moved downtown, the building itself is worth a visit. The Sherald exhibit runs through August 10th, while the Sargent is open through August 3rd. If you see either one, feel free to come back here and comment. I’d love to hear other perspectives.

Here are some photos I took of other exhibits that I particularly enjoyed at the Whitney:

A Visit to MoMA

I went to the Museum of Modern Art. I hesitated before buying my ticket online because it is holiday season in New York City and that means crowds. There are always crowds at New York City’s most iconic attractions: MoMA , the Metropolitan and the Museum of Natural History are among them. But, this time of year is a whole other thing.

My strategy for any place with crowds, including Disney World, is to take the path of least resistance. I don’t have my heart set on seeing any one particular thing – I will see what I can see. Most of these places have so many choices, so much great stuff, that you can’t really go wrong. With that in mind, I decided to venture forth to MoMA.

Indeed, it was crowded, but I’ve been to exhibits where it felt like you were packed like sardines, moving slowly along a conveyor belt to see the art, which definitely detracts from the experience. This was not that – at all. In fact, I found galleries where I could sit down and look at the pieces leisurely.

I’ve commented before on this blog about the fact that works of art, or my response to them, change over time. I find I like things that I didn’t appreciate years ago. I see other works that I loved as a young person that don’t move me as much. I love that about art. These days I gravitate to things that are whimsical – especially in sculpture. For example, this work by Thomas Schutte (an artist I had never heard of before):

The museum devoted a whole floor to an exhibit of Schutte’s work. It was incredibly varied – paintings of all sorts, sculptures of all sorts. On one card next to a display of drawings, it described a project he had undertaken that I found interesting. “Over the span of one year, Schutte drew his reflection from a round shaving mirror, recording his moods and temperaments in diaristic sketches. ‘It’s the attempt to fathom oneself,’ Schutte remarked, ‘and it failed miserably.’” I was amused and heartened by his willingness to share this. We usually only see an artist’s best work and we aren’t necessarily even aware of their failures. I can’t say I loved all that I saw of the Schutte exhibit, but it got me thinking and I appreciate that.

I also find now that I have more appreciation of canvases that are saturated with color, like these:

Rothko
Vuillard

They made me think about my mother. I remember Mom telling me that she had never appreciated Rothko until someone told her to sit down, take a few minutes, and let the color envelop her – and then she got it. She got what he was communicating. As the card next to the painting explained:

“For Rothko, art was a profound form of communication, one capable of conveying the ‘scale of human feelings, the human drama,’ as he described. Through works like these, he hoped to create the conditions for silence and contemplation.” I’m not sure I “got it,” the way my mother did, but I saw and felt more than I have in previous viewings.

It was funny to me, as I walked through the galleries, different pieces reminded me of different people. Besides my mom, who is always accompanying me when I go to an art museum, in my mind at least, I worked with a woman, Courtney, who had an appreciation for color. She told me about Pantone – the folks who catalogue colors and tell us the color of the year (for 2025, they just announced, it is mocha mousse, by the way). When I looked at the Matisse exhibit, which highlighted his paper cutouts, you could not help but be struck by his color choices. The display of Matisse’s array of colors, made me smile and think of Courtney.

Matisse: cutout that was a design for a holiday-themed stained glass, the resulting stained glass (not created by Matisse) and his color palette for his cutouts

No visit to a museum is complete without stopping in the gift shop. MoMA and the Metropolitan have stellar gift shops. I have to restrain myself. I picked up a few Hanukkah presents, but didn’t overdo it.

Here some other shots from my visit. I ended my day by walking, amidst a million of my closest friends, to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. I may not celebrate Christmas, but I can appreciate the twinkling lights that brighten our winter.

Views from inside the museum:

Some classics:

Warhol
Seurat
Dali

Does anyone convey loneliness or isolation more effectively than Edward Hopper?:

Two more interesting sculptures (at least to me), one on the right by Schutte (which had to do with the influx of immigrants in Germany in the 1990s):

To top things off – the tree!

A Trip to Pittsburgh in the Aftermath

A view of downtown from the top of Mount Washington after riding the Duquesne Incline

I could write a book about our trip to Pittsburgh. We were traveling there for a mini medical school reunion.

So many thoughts flood my mind:

  • The choices we make in our lives, being reminded of a turning point and what might have been. We could have settled in Pittsburgh but wanted to be closer to family. The road not taken is hard to resist imagining.
  • The side trip that took us at least 90 minutes out of our way, not to mention the time spent at the stop itself, a museum to see an exhibit of Andrew Wyeth’s paintings. When I suggested the detour, Gary initially didn’t want to take the time knowing what a long drive it was already from Albany to Pittsburgh. Then when we got in the car to start what should be a seven- or eight-hour trip, he said, “What the heck. We aren’t in any rush. Let’s go to the museum.”  I think he took pity on me, knowing my spirits were low from the results of the election and imagining a stop to look at art might help. He was right – it worked…for a while anyway.
  • The juxtaposition of gleaming office buildings, the beauty of the confluence of the three rivers and the unhoused, hurting people on the streets of that same downtown area. It is painful to see folks strung out, young people panhandling, wondering what’s worse: to walk by with a shake of the head and a murmured “sorry,” or to give some money? Our society must do better taking care of its own. The wealth suggested by elaborate skyscrapers, high-end stores and fancy hotels, side-by-side with people whose possessions are held in a bunch of plastic bags begs for a more humane economy. Below is evidence of the issue in Pittsburgh.
  • Gathering with friends from 40 years ago, some we did see eight years ago but others we had not, in the aftermath of an election that broke my heart but likely brought joy to some of theirs, was daunting. I was worried about how it would go.

It turned out that our reunion was warm, and we avoided politics, but I did have some interesting discussions with the woman I knew best all those years ago. We sat next to each other during the Pitt-Virginia football game that neither one of us was interested in. I knew she was a Trumper, and she knows I’m a bleeding-heart liberal. We would not change each other’s minds about anything. I come away as mystified by how I feel about folks who voted for Trump as I was before. Maybe I understand a bit more about her thought process – she sees the world differently than I do. One part of our conversation I will share because I think it is revealing.

I explained that I could not forgive Trump for, among other things, his reaction to the unite the right event in Charlottesville where the marchers chanted, “Jews will not replace us” and carried tiki torches. Trump responded saying there were good people on both sides. My friend explained that Trump was referring to the people who were trying to prevent the removal of confederate monuments – that he was sympathetic to their cause –  not to the chant. I said that I didn’t understand his statement that way and if that was the case he needed to make it clearer. She told me that it was obvious to her that’s what he meant. I said that even if that was what he meant, those monuments needed to come down. She disagreed. She asked me if knew anything about Abraham Lincoln. I said yes. She went on to explain that Lincoln supported monuments and naming forts after confederate generals to allow the South to save face. I responded by saying that may well be, and may have made sense in 1865, but it is now 2024, and the country needs to understand that the South lost the war. Those statutes and stories can be displayed and explained in museums and history books. Monuments in public squares should help us to remember and celebrate our better selves – the people honored don’t have to be perfect, but they do have to be on the right side of history. She just shook her head saying history should be preserved. I said, let’s change the subject and we did.

The game took almost three hours. There was a lot of conversation. Most of it was ordinary stuff about family, travel, health, but we couldn’t help but return to politics every so often, after all some of those subjects involve policy. Every time we did, we had to agree to disagree. At one point she said, amused, “You’re just too woke.” I smiled and said, “Exactly – that’s no insult to me. I work at being woke.” We both laughed.

I was proud of myself. I didn’t pretend that I didn’t disagree with her, but we didn’t get heated.  I was able to hold on to the good times we shared, aware of the pain she’s had in her life, the disappointments and struggles. I assume she could do the same for me. We hugged when we said our good-byes.

Gary was sitting next to his friend and former classmate, her husband, who shares her politics. After we left, Gary and I compared notes about our experience of the game. Interestingly, they had not discussed politics at all. Not surprisingly they were more focused on the game, but they talked about other subjects too – work, memories, family, being grandpas. No politics, though. I wondered how they managed that.

I am still processing the entirety of the trip. It was only 4 days, including all that driving, but it represented so much. I am also still processing the election results. It is going to take a long time to digest it all.

The best part of the game that Pitt lost – the half time show. The band was terrific.

Three Day Jaunt: Ausable Chasm

When I was a child, my family didn’t take many vacations. My parents were teachers and money was tight. The travel we did do was associated with my dad’s continuing education. There was one exception. We took a tour of upstate New York. We lived in Brooklyn, so this was an economical, practical choice. As I recall, Dad consulted with Uncle Jack to set the itinerary. We went to Niagara Falls, Corning and Cooperstown. Uncle Jack also suggested Ausable Chasm, but that wasn’t included since it is in the northeast corner of the state; it was too far afield from the other places and would add too many miles and too much time. For some reason, the idea of going to Ausable Chasm stuck in my mind as a place I wanted see. All these years later, Gary and I made the trip this past weekend. I’m glad we did.

When Gary cut back his schedule to three days a week back on April 1st, I had visions of taking many weekend jaunts. I have a list of places that are reasonable drives that I want to go, including Ausable Chasm. Somehow, we haven’t taken any of those jaunts. Life gets in the way and Gary’s work responsibilities have not been reduced as much as I might have hoped. But, finally this past weekend presented an opportunity, so off we went.

I looked for a bed and breakfast or inn in the area (the closest city is Plattsburgh) but I didn’t have much luck finding something for all three nights. I found one place that we could stay for one night, but they had a wedding that would take up the inn for the remainder of the weekend. I decided to book that and then find another place for the other two nights.

We arrived at the Valcour Inn and Boathouse which sits on a beautiful property that faces Lake Champlain. It was an interesting place, very comfortable and lovely, but everything was handled online – there was no person to greet us. We received instructions for checking in via email. We entered the necessary codes, and we went to our room. We had access to a wide porch that ran the length of the building that looked out on the lake. 

The view from the porch

There were Adirondack chairs available – perfect to sit, read and enjoy the view. Though it felt odd not to talk to a human being, or be able to ask questions directly, the accommodations were quite comfortable. They also posted a list of recommended restaurants in the area and we chose one for lunch.

 We went to  Rove’s Café and Kitchen in Peru (yes, there is a Peru, New York. As a side note, it is interesting that our state has towns named Athens, Cairo, Mexico, among other famous world locations.) The café was a small, unassuming looking place. Appearances aren’t everything – our meals were terrific. We went back for breakfast on Sunday morning and again were not disappointed. It’s great to find a small, local place that serves excellent food instead of going to the ubiquitous chains.

Keeping with the theme of taking advantage of local amenities, we went to Peru High School to play tennis. It was sunny but  windy which made hitting the ball a bit of an adventure, but we had fun. The tennis courts had lines for pickleball and, in fact, two different sets of people showed up to play pickleball on the court next to ours but gave up because of the wind. Score one advantage to tennis which uses a heavier ball.

After perusing Google, I found an Italian restaurant in Plattsburgh for dinner, about 10 miles north of where we were staying. Nonnalisa turned out to be excellent. Again, it didn’t have much in the way of ambiance, but the woman who waited on us, who may have been the owner, was friendly and accommodating. The food was fresh and very tasty. The shopping center where the eatery was located didn’t look too lively, it was kind of desolate actually, but the restaurant was busy. Guests at two of the other tables were speaking French, a reminder that we were close to the Canadian border.

We read that it was good to arrive at Ausable Chasm early if you want to avoid waiting on a long line to get entry tickets. The park opened at 9:00 a.m. and given Gary and my sleep patterns, getting there at that hour would not be an issue. It was good advice. The Inn provided a ‘take-away’ breakfast – a pre-packaged box with yogurt, nuts, cheese and a pastry, plus coffee and juice were offered. It proved to be quite adequate and efficient. So, we got to the park just after it opened and there was no issue parking and there were only a couple of people ahead of us to buy tickets. When we returned to the Welcome Center just before noon, the line was quite long.

Ausable Chasm offers different kinds of experiences depending on the desired level of adventure. We opted for the package that included access to the hiking trails, the walk along the river and the raft excursion (there was another level up that included rock climbing, etc.). It was just the right challenge for us. The walk along the river in the chasm involved crossing suspension bridges – the kind that bounce and sway as people walk on them. It was unnerving to know that the water was rushing over rocks about fifty feet below us, but I did it without hesitating. Yay me!

One of the two suspension bridges we crossed.

The chasm offers many beautiful views from the rim and from the bottom. It is quite a geological phenomenon. And we learned that it isn’t called a canyon because of how narrow it is. You learn something new every day!

View from the rim
View of Elephant Ear from the rim
view from the floor of the chasm
another view from the bottom

The walk at the bottom is led by a tour guide. After completing the path, we were left where the raft loaded. We put on life preservers and boarded the raft. The current was mild, though there were two areas of rapids, but even those were pretty tame. It was just the right amount of excitement for me. Having gone white water rafting in Quebec and getting ejected from the raft and being rescued by my son, I was pleased that this was less exhilarating.

Once we completed the water portion of our adventure, we had a choice. We could hike back to the gatehouse or take a shuttle bus. We were ready for more hiking and we took the more challenging route. We made our way through a dry chasm – which involved climbing through and around large rocks that at one time was a river bed before time and nature did its thing and rerouted the river. It wasn’t too hard, and it was very beautiful. The light filtering through the trees and our verdant surroundings were magnificent.

hiking through the dry chasm
climbing out of the chasm

We got back to the Welcome Center feeling like we had a good workout. I needed to get postcards to send to the kids and  find a souvenir magnet to add to my wall back home and then we could check into our next accommodations – The Shamrock Inn which was just down the road. A shower was definitely in order – all that hiking in the heat, and I had soaked through my shirt. Not to mention that my hiking shoes and socks were sopping wet from the raft ride.

The Shamrock Inn provided a lovely room, clean and comfortable, though it was a bit small. The friendly owner, who checked us in and lived on the premises, recommended a place for lunch back up the road in Keeseville, a small café that was known for its great grilled cheese sandwiches. After cleaning up, off we went. We were not mislead. Those were killer grilled cheese sandwiches – and I got a frozen strawberry lemonade which was perfect after our morning’s efforts.

One of my favorite things about traveling is seeing different towns – how do other people live? What does a town offer that is charming or unusual? Does the town look to be thriving or is it struggling? Just driving the roads in and around the area was interesting. Fortunately, Gary shares my enthusiasm for that. Keeseville looked like it was trying to comeback from difficult times. Peru looked like a settled community with both established businesses and places that were struggling. In between we saw a mixture of beautiful lakefront homes and trailer parks. We like to look up the towns on Wikipedia, see if there’s some interesting history, what the population is…

In that vein, we went to the Museum of the Underground Railroad which is right next to Ausable Chasm. This area of the north country of New York State had a role in helping escaped enslaved people make it to freedom in Canada. We learned quite a bit about the journey and about some specific people who successfully made it and some local people who helped. We also learned how different views split church congregations in the area. It is a small museum, but worth the visit.

We had one more day in the area and we decided to go across Lake Champlain to Burlington, Vermont, which involved taking a short ferry ride. We rented bicycles and rode along the Burlington Greenway Bike Path which skirts the lake and traverses a causeway that connects the mainland of Vermont to Grand Isle. It was a beautiful ride that took us through forested areas, we passed public beaches, and then to the causeway. We rode 9 miles out and then turned around.

the causeway part of the bike path

We didn’t go all the way across to Grand Isle. 18 miles was sufficient for us, given that we had not biked at all in quite some time. My legs were aching, and Gary’s butt was complaining, but it was well worth it. We rewarded ourselves with  cocktails and lunch after returning the bikes. There was a restaurant on the water right across from the rental place. It was wonderful to sit in the shade, drink some water and sip a pina colada.

Me after 18 miles in 85 degree heat – I did it!

All good things must end. It was time to go home – back to the grind of work for Gary and back to my routines. Three days went by quickly, but it did feel like a mini vacation. We did all that I hoped to – satisfied my curiosity about a place I had heard of as a child, took in the beauty that is the north country of New York State, spent quality time together, learned some history, got a good deal of exercise and enjoyed good food. I look forward to our next three-day jaunt whenever and wherever that might be.

Money, Money, Money

Money can be a great thing. Not a surprising a statement. This notion was reinforced by the tour we took of Olana, home of Frederick Church, one of the significant painters of the Hudson River School. Church was born into a monied family. He may have disappointed his father when he announced his plan to be an artist as a teenager, but he had the luxury of making that choice. He was able to pursue and fulfill his dream. He wasn’t under pressure to make money; he could take his family on an 18-month trip to Europe and the Middle East without worrying about where his next dollar was coming from. He could come back inspired by all he had seen, buying knick-knacks and artwork, and full of ideas for building his own home in Hudson, New York. Olana was born at least in part from that trip and thanks to his vision we can enjoy his property today.

Olana, we learned, didn’t just refer to the building – which was the family home; it referred to the whole property including the acres of land surrounding it. Church viewed the whole thing, the land and his home, as a unified piece of art. Church would buy parcels as they came up for sale in order to preserve the views he found so inspiring. Here are two views from our walk of the property:

He painted many landscapes of the Catskills and Hudson River from here. When Church arrived in the area, the land had been clear cut of trees. The property was barren. He wanted to restore its natural habitat. It was the fashion of the time to plant exotic trees and plants, bringing home flora from Europe and the Middle East, but Church didn’t adopt that approach. He used native trees, and he purposely left open spaces to frame vistas. He took an artist’s approach to the project, specifying where the plantings should end so he could have a pleasing view of the mountains, rivers and farms that surrounded his property. We are fortunate that Church was a visionary. He left us a magnificent place to explore and appreciate the beauty that Is the Hudson Valley.

While we were walking the land, our guide pointed out a small cement factory that we could see in the distance. A number of years ago there had been a proposal to build another factory that would have included a 40-story smokestack. The idea was moving ahead until some in the area got wind of it and objected. Ultimately, the plan was defeated. The guide believed that if the plan had gone ahead, it would have ruined Olana. I wondered if that was the case. A view would have certainly been diminished but did that mean that Olana could no longer be a place people would want to visit and hike? Would it literally have ruined Olana? Certainly if the emissions from the smokestack were noxious, it would have. The question is moot since the State rejected the proposal.

After the last of the heirs of Church died, the land and house became a New York State Park. I am in favor of preserving wild spaces, especially for public use. But there is a balance. Economic development is also important. People need to make a living. Many towns in the Catskills have struggled and lost population. Our guide explained that Olana itself is not an insignificant employer in the region. It is a dilemma faced all over the country – the tension between development and preservation; these tensions are regularly encountered in the Adirondacks. I don’t reflexively reject development. I want to understand the implications, the costs and benefits, before coming to a conclusion. Unfortunately, it can be hard to come by good information on that. I think many of us have a knee jerk reaction to these issues. We can be predisposed to believe that any encroachment on nature is a negative thing (especially when it involves our own property or neighborhood), or we may automatically support anything that promises more jobs and tax revenue. Neither of those reactions are useful in effective policymaking.

As we finished our walk of the property, the guide asked us what we thought of the house – meaning the design of the structure. All of us on the tour liked it but saw different things in it. Some were reminded of an Italian palazzo; others saw Middle Eastern touches. It is something of a mish-mosh.

Money does give you options that most of us don’t have. Church found folks who were willing and able to fulfill his vision.

Money can also make people crazy. It can be a trap. Frederick Church enjoyed his largesse. He connected with many of the accomplished people of his day. Prominent people from New York City visited him at Olana. Other folks in that circle were not so fortunate. We learned on the tour of the Wittgenstein family of Vienna, the patriarch was a contemporary of Church, and one of the richest families in the world. Several members of that family committed suicide and the one remaining son gave all the money away. Money does not buy happiness. We can forget that when we are in the midst of challenging times. When we are barely making ends meet, or the ends aren’t meeting, it is understandable to think that having more money would solve all our problems. There is no doubt that money can help with a myriad of issues, but it doesn’t solve loneliness, or bad decision-making. Apparently, Frederick Church did not struggle with those issues and he left us a legacy we can enjoy.

River Cruise – Not Much River

Note: I have decided to return to writing about the lighter side of life though I continue to stress about the toll of the war in Gaza, the fate of the hostages and the rise of antisemitism. Gary and I were fortunate to take an amazing trip in October and, me being me, I have lots of observations and photographs to share. Here is the first of what will likely be a couple of essays.

“How was your trip?” A straightforward question to someone who has returned from vacation. Usually the answer is straightforward, too. “Great!”  or maybe “Exhausting!” Gary and I took a river cruise in October and when people ask how it was, I find it difficult to come up a pithy response. Our trip was disappointing, awesome, educational, fascinating, painful, tiring, memorable….many adjectives apply. There isn’t one overall response.

Our river cruise was a tour of Eastern European capitals on the Danube with Viking. It was slated to start in Vienna and proceed to Bratislava (capital of Slovakia) and then Budapest, with further stops in Hungary, Bulgaria and ending in Constanta, Romania. We received an email a couple of days before we left advising us that it was possible that the beginning of the trip would not be on the boat because water levels on the river were too low. We hoped that would resolve and then didn’t think much more about it since it was totally out of our control.

When we arrived in Vienna we were told by the Viking representative that met us that indeed we could not go to the boat because the situation had not improved. They were not sure when or where we would be able to board the ship. We were taken by bus from the airport to a Hilton Hotel well-located in the middle of Vienna. Though the transfer to the hotel went smoothly, we were disappointed to find that things were quite disorganized upon our arrival. It wasn’t clear what was happening with our luggage. Rooms were not yet available, it was mid-morning. They did not communicate the status of meals for the day and no activities were scheduled. It was an inauspicious beginning.

Gary and I were traveling with his brother, Steven, and his wife, Shari. Though we were quite tired, it had been an overnight flight, we set out to explore the area on foot. It was very breezy and chilly, but we enjoyed our walk and stopped at a café. We made the best of the situation. We wandered around for a couple of hours – now it was around 1:00 and we returned to the hotel. Steve and Shari’s room was ready, ours was not. We were informed that a buffet lunch was available in the restaurant of the hotel.

We hoped that after lunch our room would be available. We went to the buffet only to find that none of the dishes were labeled – various foods were displayed without any identification. Was it fish or chicken? Pork or beef? What kind of vegetables were under that cream sauce? Those of us with allergies or food preferences were concerned and confused. The folks refilling the chafing dishes were unable to answer our questions. Oy. After much pestering of the staff, we were able to gather some information. We made it through lunch without anyone getting a rash or anaphylaxis (at least as far as I know). Dinner wasn’t much better, somewhat better labeling but not great choices. Certainly not meeting the standards expected on a Viking cruise.

I think you are getting the picture. Things were not starting out great. Especially when you consider how expensive these trips are. Despite that, though, I loved walking through Vienna, being in a new place, taking in the architecture, people-watching, seeing a city I had only read about.

As we were finishing lunch, Gary went to the registration desk to inquire about our room – it was now around 2:30. At first they said they didn’t have one available. Gary appealed to their sympathies. “We have been traveling since 6:00 yesterday evening, we didn’t sleep on the flight, we haven’t showered, can’t you do something?” Fortunately, they could. Why they couldn’t in the first place, is a mystery. But at least we had a room! We got our luggage – it was supposed to be delivered but we saw it sitting in the lobby so we just took it – and went up to our room and collapsed.

I won’t go through the whole trip giving a minute-by-minute report, but I wanted to give a sense of our frustration with how it started. Viking still didn’t have a clear itinerary for those first days or a timetable for getting on the boat. We were okay with taking it as it comes – as long as we were seeing interesting sights and as long as Viking was fulfilling its promises, even if it wasn’t on the river.

Unfortunately, I can’t say they were able to do that. The food provided at the hotel and the one restaurant they took us to in Vienna were subpar, at best. The communication was not what it should have been. On the upside, the hotel was comfortable, and the tour of the city was excellent. I loved what we saw in Vienna. Here are some photos of points of interest.

statue of the mayor of Vienna from decades ago – a known Nazi
On our walk when we first arrived in Vienna
Holocaust memorial
A canal that is an offshoot of the Danube

On the afternoon that we had free, Gary and I chose to go the Belvedere Museum because I am a fan of the artist Gustav Klimt. I had read that his most famous paintings were housed in that museum. I was not disappointed. The building itself was magnificent and the grounds were beautiful, as well.

Since we were not on the boat, we were given a choice: spend more time in Vienna or take an hour bus ride to Bratislava where we would take a tour. Gary and I chose to go Bratislava. During the bus ride, the tour guide provided a lot of information about both cities – Vienna and Bratislava and the two countries, Austria and Slovakia. Back in the day, Austria was not part of the Soviet bloc, but Slovakia was. The lasting impact of that was evident in their respective landscapes and the ambiance of those capital cities. As we would continue to learn throughout the trip, Russian influence was stronger and stronger as we went east. In Bratislava the tour guide told us jokes that were at the expense of the old Soviet Union. For example: a man went to the Skoda (small, Czech made car) dealership to buy a car. He was told it would be a ten year wait. The man asked if it would come in the morning or the afternoon. The salesman responded, “Why does it matter, it’s in ten years?” “Because I have the plumber scheduled to come then.” Obviously, a dig at the inefficiency of the Soviet system. The guide seemed grateful both to be able to tell the joke and that things had changed.

Bratislava’s old town was charming. It had been a walled city. Now it has lots of shops and restaurants within the remnants of the wall. Our tour guide explained that because the cost of labor is low, as are taxes, tech corporations have established offices in Bratislava. Thirty years after communism fell, there is a vibrance to the city and it is growing.

Opera House in Bratislava
Castle that overlooks the Danube
Gary with iconic bridge over the Danube that connects two parts of Bratislava
one of the streets in the old town of Bratislava

Despite the fact the cruise was not going as planned, and in fact we weren’t cruising at all, the main purpose of travel was being accomplished. We were learning about places we knew little about and expanding our horizons to include more of the world.

[more to come!]

Self-Care: Filling Your Cup

Last week’s blog entry that I entitled Self-Care drew some interesting comments that got me thinking. Gary, my husband, who is also a doctor, pointed out that taking care of oneself was a good investment of time and energy. A number of the things that I identified as self-care were doctor recommendations. I can see his perspective. Rather than resenting the time it takes to do the physical therapy or whatever it is that has been prescribed, one could look at it positively. Time spent making yourself healthier, perhaps pain-free, or with improved mental health, is a good use of one’s time and better than a lot of alternatives. Once again, reframing something has its benefits.

I also received useful feedback from Leah, my daughter. She argued that activities I was including in self-care didn’t necessarily belong there. She suggested that self-care can be thought of as activities that ‘fill your cup;’ things that restore your spirit. I like that notion. While I didn’t specifically list brushing my teeth as part of my self-care routine, it was included as part of what I do to get ready in the morning. I don’t think that should really count as self-care, except in the broadest sense. It is necessary to preserve my dental health but doesn’t do much to restore my spirit. Although, replacing morning breath with minty-fresh breath is a big improvement – I think I’m getting too far into the weeds here. It is safe to say I am over-analyzing this.

Back to the main point: Even if I take a broader view of self-care than the one Leah offered, I like the exercise of thinking about what is restorative. It is helpful to be mindful of the activities that energize us because when we do have a bit of time to spare, we can make a good choice as to how to spend it. Sometimes I take the path of least resistance – turn on the television and vegetate. There is a role for that, occasionally. But, more often than not, spending time on the couch watching something mindless is enervating. I feel worse, not better, afterwards.

What does make me feel better or more full? First and foremost, spending time with my children and grandchildren. Sometimes that isn’t possible so making a plan, having something on the calendar, so that I know when I will see them is wonderful. It doesn’t have to be complicated – we don’t need to be doing anything special – actually the less hectic the day, the better. A couple of weeks ago, our son’s family visited, and we went to the playground, came back and hung out. Our granddaughter set up an obstacle course on the living room floor (it involved navigating a path through pretend lava – paper – and hopping over pretend rocks – crayons) and we took turns. She is four years old and she delighted in first showing us what to do, then telling us if we were successful. I loved it. What better way to spend time?

Another thing I find energizing is travel. While it is fabulous to take trips overseas or to cities or landmarks in the United States, again, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. I’m happy to explore the hilltowns a few miles away, or take a ride in the Catskills. Anything new is interesting to me and if we can find some natural beauty, a lake, some mountain views, all the better. I am happy just to take in the scenery. Of course, I wouldn’t turn down a trip to Paris or the Canadian Rockies, but clearly those are rare. The trip we took last fall to the national parks in Utah and Santa Fe was sustaining. I look at the pictures every so often and it brings back the exhilaration of seeing those beautiful places. Being in nature is the best way to restore my equilibrium. When my dad was in the hospital in Florida, and he was terminally ill, I either went to sit by the ocean for a few minutes or walked in the bird sanctuary most days and just breathed. If I hadn’t done that, I don’t know how I would have coped.

Reading, particularly a good novel, makes the cut as self-care, too. Not all my reading experiences, though, fall into this category. I have read stories that annoyed me. Why I stayed with the book is a reasonable question, but sometimes even when the main character is exasperating, I still want to find out what happens. Also, if I am reading non-fiction, it can be challenging to find the right balance between what is stimulating to learn about and what is so disturbing that I have to close the book for a while before continuing. Reading anything about the Trump administration would not fill my cup! I guess reading can be a bit complicated.

I can’t leave this topic without also mentioning art museums – I love them! They can be small, like the Fenimore in Cooperstown or Albany’s own Museum of History and Art, or huge like the Metropolitan in NYC, I find looking at the art in relatively calm, quiet spaces to be relaxing and energizing at the same time. Add an outdoor sculpture garden and I am in my element. I don’t even have to love the art itself, though if I can find a few pieces that speak to me that’s all the better. Walking through rooms where the focus is on what people have created and taking it in, is delightful. I think some people may get hung up on thinking they are missing something if they don’t ‘get it.’ I try not to worry about that – I just like looking and generally will find something that is either just interesting or moving.

As I consider this, I realize that I don’t find spa treatments all that fulfilling. The idea of it is more appealing than the actual experience. I like the end result of a pedicure or manicure, but the process just doesn’t do it for me. On the rare occasion where I have gone with a friend or with Leah, I have enjoyed it much more, but otherwise I would rather take a nice walk.

What do you find restorative? Have you thought about it? We might be making certain assumptions about what fills our cup based on popular culture and it may not really work for us.  It would be great if readers would share.

From a local winter walk in the woods – Five Rivers
From a local walk in the woods this past Fall – Thacher Park

Road Trip (and More)!

I originally planned this trip to the southwest of the United States in 2019 long before I had ever heard of Covid-19. We were supposed to go in May of 2020 but had to cancel, much to my disappointment. Well, we are taking the trip now!

This past Friday we flew from Albany to Albuquerque, New Mexico, leaving very early in the morning. Other than a misunderstanding about our hiking sticks – I thought they could come on as part of my carry-on baggage, TSA disagreed. They characterized them as ‘weapons.’ You’ll never guess who won that battle. We had to leave the security area and check our bags. We were early enough to get to the Delta check-in counter and back through security a second time so there was no issue. Otherwise, our travel to Albuquerque was uneventful, long (because we had a four-hour layover in Atlanta) but uneventful. Given the horror stories one hears about air travel these days, I am grateful.

We picked up our rental car and promptly got on the road to Santa Fe which is only a little over an hour drive. As we exited the small airport and got on the highway I did look around Albuquerque trying to find evidence of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman, to no avail.

On the road in Albuquerque

The landscape looked about what I expected. It got prettier and prettier as we approached Santa Fe.

Snapped from our moving car

We checked into our hotel, the Inn on Alameda, a mere 14 hours from when we started our day. But it was still early enough to go explore a bit and get dinner. The gentlemen who checked us in was friendly, efficient, and provided us with good information about restaurants and nearby attractions, and a map (I love maps!).

Though we had not planned it to coincide, this was the weekend of Fiesta in Santa Fe. It is an annual celebration of the city’s Spanish heritage. The festival has evolved over recent years in recognition of the complicated relationship between the Spanish settlers, the indigenous people and the Mexicans who also ruled the area for a time. From our perspective, as tourists, what it mostly meant was that the city square had food and craft booths set up, as well as a stage where various performances were featured. It made for a fun, lively time.

After dinner we walked back to our hotel in a light rain. We basically collapsed in our bed so we would be ready for our scheduled walking tour the following morning.

We met up with our tour guide at a lovely coffee shop. He gave us an overview of the area’s history as we sipped our coffee. Then we started our tour. Here are some scenes from our tour:

The tour ended at the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. We enjoyed looking at her work and learning  her history. Women who are brave enough to forge their own path are inspiring – and she certainly did that. Plus, I like many of her paintings.

Not a ‘typical’ O’Keeffe, but I appreciated it. She did live in New York City for 20 years after all

We came back to our hotel, legs aching more from standing than walking, we had been on our feet for about 4 hours. Rather than make life complicated, we had lunch at our hotel. They had delicious offerings, as it turned out.

After a brief rest, we headed out again to explore – this time to Canyon Road where many of the art galleries are located. It is amazing how many talented people there are in this world. The paintings and sculptures were breathtaking.

Sunday morning, we had breakfast at the hotel. I couldn’t leave Santa Fe without getting a magnet – I make a point of collecting magnets from wherever I travel. The wall in our mud room has metal sheeting attached so I can put them up and remind myself of all the fabulous places I have been. I neglected to get one as we were wandering around on Saturday, so we drove over to the Five and Dime (that was the name of the store!) and I found a great addition to my collection. Now we could move on.

We had only 7 hours of driving ahead of us! – to get to Antelope Canyon, Arizona. Gary and I don’t mind long car rides, though this was pushing it. Some observations: The northwestern part of New Mexico is kind of depressing. Some of the landscape is beautiful, but some of it is dreary and desolate. You also see the poverty of the native peoples – pawnshops, scrap yards, and not much else in the way of industry.

Here are some photos shot from the car as we drove through New Mexico and into Arizona

Our destination was Horseshoe Bend, Arizona, where the Colorado River emerges from the Grand Canyon. We finally made it. We started our day in 55 degree Santa Fe. We emerged from our car into 90 degree blazing sun. It was a 1.5 walk from the parking lot to the site. Fortunately, we had water with us, though within minutes the bottled water was hot! But hot water is better than no water in that climate! The walk was well worth the effort.

Then it was on to our bed and breakfast – only 30 minutes away. Our host provided a beer for Gary and a glass of  well-chilled Chardonnay for me (a generous pour, too!). Ahhh! Lovely. We caught a beautiful sunset and moonrise before going to sleep.

view from the B&B rooftop deck at sunset
Moonrise

We have finished 3 days of our vacation, 6 more to go with so many more magnificent places to see (Antelope Canyon, Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks are coming up) before ending our journey in Las Vegas. By the way, did you know that there is a Las Vegas, New Mexico? We were confused by road signs for it as we drove to Santa Fe. We know our geography well enough to realize that Las Vegas is not 125 miles from Albuquerque. Who knew there was another one? One of the many things I learned on this trip. Apparently, New Mexicans refer to it as Las Vegas, and call the one in Nevada ‘Vegas’ to distinguish them.

Can’t wait to see what else I learn.

Art, Artists and Audiences

“And I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a B-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind
Got my paper and I was free”

These are lyrics to the song “Closer to Fine,” by the Indigo Girls, released in 1989. They were the words sung by about 10,000 people attending a concert at Tanglewood in Massachusetts. The Indigo Girls began the song but stopped singing after the first verse and chorus, continued to play their instruments and invited the crowd to take it from there. And we did. It is a powerful thing to be among so many people singing words together – and these aren’t simple lyrics. Not “I love you, yeah, yeah, yeah.”  We were among strangers, and yet we weren’t. We all shared the experience of singing that song for decades, in our cars, in our dorm rooms, in our headphones while we jogged, while hanging out with friends. We were different people, living separate lives, varied ages and backgrounds, but united in finding meaning and connection in that song. It is a unique sensation experienced only when attending concerts in person.

When I bought the tickets a month or two ago, it was to see Brandi Carlile; I didn’t know the Indigo Girls would be the opening act, that was a bonus I learned in the days leading up to the concert. I first became familiar with Brandi Carlile from my local radio station (WEXT) and noted that I liked her sound. I saw her interviewed and was further impressed. I bought the tickets based on that. Then, more recently, I saw video of her performance with Joni Mitchell, and I am a huge fan of Joni, at the Newport Folk Festival. That sealed the deal; I was excited to attend my first in person musical performance since the pandemic began.

Tanglewood’s capacity, with lawn seating, is 15,000. It was close to full (there were some inside seats open until the rains came). Though most had come for the main attraction, it was clear that the Indigo Girls had their own fans, as well. The audience was very enthusiastic from the first notes and the performers fed off the energy of the crowd. I can only imagine how it feels to have lyrics you have written sung back to you by thousands of voices. How validating! Perhaps, after years of it, it becomes old hat. It didn’t seem that way for any of the performers that night. Brandi Carlile exulted, with her bandmates, that after years of playing chowder houses and chain restaurants in the Pacific Northwest, they had made it; they had, in her words, achieved their dream. I couldn’t help but feel happy for her and her talented band as they reveled in the cheers and absorbed the energy of the crowd.

Artists may pursue their art for a variety of reasons. Some may not love the public part, the performing; they may derive more satisfaction from the creative process. Some may choose to generate their work alone; others seek out collaboration. Brandi Carlile appears to enjoy both the performing and the collaborative potential music presents. Writing books, poetry or essays is generally a solitary craft, at least initially. Publication involves others.

No matter how the work is produced, though, the reality is that if you don’t have an audience, it may feel incomplete. People can talk about creating for its own sake, but without a reaction, without any audience, isn’t something essential lost? And, beyond that, the artist certainly can’t make a living without it.

This notion was reinforced by another ‘show’ I attended of an entirely different sort. The Clark Museum, also in the Berkshires, is hosting a Rodin sculpture exhibit. I have always appreciated Rodin’s work, especially The Thinker and The Kiss.

A small reproduction of The Thinker sits on my desk

I learned a few things from this exhibit. Rodin sketched first, then created a clay or plaster model (not necessarily full size). He did not cast the bronze or carve the marble himself; he employed someone to do that. I was surprised to learn that a woman, Camille Rosalie Claudel, did some carving for him. She was his student, assistant, model, and romantic partner for a time (Rodin also had a lifetime woman companion with whom he had a child but that is another story).

Learning that someone else did the carving was interesting on many levels. Part of me feels like the carving is an essential part of the artistry. One of the extraordinary things about sculpture of the human form is coaxing emotion and texture from stone. Does Rodin get credit for doing that if he didn’t do that part of the work?

Is this common practice? I have watched a number of profiles of artists on the news magazine CBS Sunday Morning. When working on large installations, artists have used teams of people to weld, pour concrete and other tasks involved in creating the work. But that struck me as different than having someone else do the ‘sculpting.’ But, where do you draw the line? Does it matter?

I don’t recall when I’ve seen Rodin’s work displayed at other museums whether the person doing the carving was given credit. If they were, I didn’t notice. At least at this exhibit they were.

I was also surprised to find that it was a woman who did the work. Maybe that wasn’t unusual either, he was creating in late 19th and early 20th century and I would not have expected that. It comes as news to me.  

One of the major themes of the exhibit was the role that patrons played in Rodin’s success in the United States. Without a few dedicated supporters, who bought his art, got it displayed in major museums and spread the word about his talent, he would not have become the world-renowned artist he became. It was also interesting to note that many of his patrons were women.

We may have an image of artists as lone creatives, toiling by themselves, perhaps tortured souls. A piece of that may be true. But, if we know about that their work, if they have achieved wide exposure, then it is likely that they have benefitted from a network of people who have supported them. Nothing wrong with that – and I am not suggesting it is luck, though that may play a role for some – but as a writer seeking publication, it is useful to keep that in mind.

New York City Isn’t Dead

Based on media reports one might think New York City has become a hell hole. My recent visits have not borne that out. Obviously, my experience is just that – mine. Anecdotal – limited to the times and places I have been. That time has been spent on the Upper West Side, which according to some reporting has been the site of a mass exodus. Data may reveal a decrease in population, but you never would have known it by walking through the neighborhood and strolling through Central Park this past weekend.

Gary and I celebrated my birthday in the city, joined by our daughter and son-in-law-to be. We traveled down on Friday evening. It was a beautiful, clear evening. A huge full moon hung over northern Manhattan as we crossed the George Washington Bridge. Leah and Ben, after taking a half hour to find a parking spot, arrived at our apartment. With so many Citi-bike stations and a wider bike lane eliminating parking spots from one side of Central Park West, street parking, which was scarce before, is now almost impossible to find. It is one of those trade-offs of urban living; convenience for car-owners versus encouraging eco-friendly biking. At least once a spot was found, we didn’t need our cars for the rest of the weekend.

Saturday was my birthday and Gary, Leah and Ben wanted me to choose our activities. I considered our options. Given how bike-friendly the city has become, renting bikes seemed like a good idea. The weather was supposed to be great. But many other people might have the same idea and I didn’t relish the idea of navigating heavy traffic. I looked up the Metropolitan Museum of Art, thinking if it was open, maybe it wouldn’t attract too many people. The website indicated it was open and explained the COVID guidelines – tickets were available for specific times, there would be a temperature check before entry, masks were required and guards would be ensuring compliance, sanitizing stations were placed throughout. The Met is a huge building. It seemed like it could be a safe space. We all agreed, and I bought tickets for a 2:00 entry.

We had a relaxing morning in the apartment. Gary and I went out and picked up bagels. That walk revealed some of the toll of the pandemic. A number of retail stores and restaurants were closed. There were more homeless than there had been before, but there were still families out and about and a lot of stores were soldiering on. Lenny’s, the bagel place we favor, had a line (properly spaced) out the door, and we didn’t encounter any aggressive panhandlers. The streets looked a bit battered, with the closed businesses and more trash, but nothing like what I remembered from 1980 when I was attending graduate school. The city may be staggered, but it isn’t on its knees like it was then.

We returned to the apartment and had our bagels and coffee and chilled out. We left at 1:00 so we could take our time getting to the museum, taking a scenic route through the park. We only had to traverse about a mile and change.

We entered the park at 100th street, hearing peals of laughter from the nearby playground. The vast majority of people were masked (with both nose and mouth covered!), including the children. Families were picnicking. A father was teaching his son how to play badminton. We passed cyclists, runners and rollerbladers – or more accurately they passed us. I noted many interracial couples, heterosexual and gay, of every age. We saw and heard musicians (jazz and classical), exercise classes and softball games. We even saw a group of dancers, wearing flouncy black skirts trimmed in vibrant colors, doing what appeared to be salsa. We saw birthday parties, a bridge table set up in the grass, paper table cloth flapping in the breeze, balloons tied to chairs. It was an extraordinary tableau, vibrant with life. Some may not have been socially distancing, it was hard to judge whether groups are families or households, but other than people who were eating, most were masked, and many were clumped in small clusters which suggested they were trying to maintain appropriate distance. We were able to walk with enough space to feel comfortable. The sun was shining, the air was crisp. It felt like life – maybe not normal but affirming.

I was reminded that life wasn’t normal by the persistent feeling that a hair was trapped between my mask and my lips. I stopped twice, moved to the side next to a tree, removed my mask and inspected it for the stray hair. I rubbed my fingers over my lips. I never did find it – it just kept irritating me. But I kept my mask on.

We arrived at the museum at the right time, had our temperatures taken and our tickets scanned. Some spaces were more crowded than others, but we still took in their extensive Impressionist collection. People were mindful of spacing, we found ourselves doing a dance to allow access to the works. They thoughtfully reprinted the identifying information cards in larger font so you could stand back farther and still see the artist’s name and description of the piece.

I have been to the Met a number of times over the course of my 61 years, but I am hardly a regular there. Each time I respond to the paintings and sculptures differently. One of the things I have come to appreciate more recently is the spaces that museums provide. The Met has a number of courtyards with walls of windows that offer views of Central Park and high ceilings so that it feels airy and open. The sculptures in those areas may not be my favorites, but I love the overall effect.

I had read a bit about an installation on the rooftop garden that I wanted to see. You had to take the elevator to the fifth floor to get there. They were regulating the flow of people, limiting the number in the elevator and preventing crowding on the roof. We found a long line to get on the elevator, with markings on the floor to designate proper distancing. The line wound itself around a room. We wondered about waiting, decided it appeared to move quickly, so we got on. It was well worth it – both because the room itself had some interesting pieces to look at and because the rooftop was fabulous. The installation, called Lattice Detour by Hector Zamora, was a wall made up of blocks that left open spaces, hence the name of the piece. It may not sound all that special, but it created cool shadows and great photo opportunities. The view up there was spectacular. The park and the city skyline were lit by brilliant sun against a pale blue, clear sky, with just wisps of clouds.

Lattice Detour on the rooftop garden

After enjoying the fresh air and views, we walked down the stairs instead of using the elevator, careful not to touch the bannisters. We were alone in the stairwell, just the four of us.

I got us lost looking for the American wing, but we found great pieces of modern art. It was nearing closing time. Leah and Ben were determined to find George Washington Crossing the Delaware, my left heel said it had enough (we had already walked five miles and still needed to walk home – a cab was not an option). We agreed to meet in the gift shop. Another thing I love, museum gift shops!

I picked out some gifts, paid for them, and went to sit on the front steps (those iconic steps) to wait for everyone else. The beauty of cell phones, I texted everyone where I was, so I wasn’t concerned about being separated. I people-watched as I waited. Again, the variety that is New York presented itself. One woman, dressed in a body-hugging black outfit, thigh high boots, blond hair blown dry to perfection, gold earrings glinting in the sunlight, confidently posed for her partner as he snapped pictures. Vendors were selling pretzels and hot dogs and people were buying.

It wasn’t too long before Gary and the kids joined me. We sat a bit longer, criticizing those who were not masked properly, but also noting how many more were. We began our trek back to the apartment.

Having been out and about for the whole afternoon, we decided we had enough exposure to the elements and ordered food in. So many choices! Once again, they deferred to me. We ordered Chinese from Red Farm. I poured some wine while we waited and reflected on the day.

Thank you, universe, for giving me a beautiful present. The only thing that would have made it better was having Dan, Beth and our granddaughter with us, but I had a FaceTime visit first thing in the morning. I was beyond grateful for the gift of the day. And, I was relieved to find New York City doing its thing in this new reality.