Transition to Translational

Friday evening, May 28, I took the train up to the UES (Upper East Side for us cognescenti) to take Beth out to dinner to celebrate her first NIH "K" Grant.  This grant awards money for her salary to Cornell Med so that she can continue her research.  It also ensures that she will continue for at least two more years at Cornell on an entry-level attending status.  She's worked very hard and hopes that this is the first of many grants that will help her move along the academic research track. 

She also had a beautiful haircut that afternoon so I paused to take a photo of the layered back of her hair.  She is standing against a background of the construction site for Cornell's new research building which will support the emerging field of translational research that Beth is involved in.  This research "translates" clinical problems with bench research aiming for faster medical breakthroughs (If I'm stating this correctly).  The caption for this photo is Beth's thought "Hmmm I wonder where  my new lab and corner office will be be when they move me into this building?"

An American Idiot confounds a Cockeyed Optimist

My sixty year old adrenaline is pumping as I try to do as much as possible during this last week in New York, but I realize now that my adrenaline is a trickle when compared to the hydrant-like adrenaline that flows from a young punk rocker.  Last night I went to see American Idiot, the new musical based on Green Day's album.  I like Green Day's music and thought I'd appreciate the music having been a sideline observor to punk and emo during the late 90's and early 2000's when I followed the progress of Saves the Day.  Indeed, I first heard Green Day when Saves the Day opened for them on a tour in 2002 (?).

I enjoyed the energy and intensity of An American Idiot. The cast was fantastic and tireless.  The staging was convulsive and percussive.  In fact, its a good thing Greg didn't join me as he would have acquired a migraine with the combination of sound blasting and strobe lights pulsating. A day later, in re-reading Charles Isherwood's review, I am better able to appreciate the negativity that drove the plot and to realize that my reaction by the end of the play, when I wanted to shout "oh grow up" was exactly what all the ruckus was about. 

One of the characters, Tunny, chooses to escape his suburban existence by enlisting; he  is sent to Iraq where he loses a leg.  Watching Tunny's world in a regimented, idealistic army facing true life-and-death decisions contrast with the angry, dirty, needle-pushing world of Johnny caused me to recall Sledge Hammer from the recent HBO series The Pacific.  This memory, in turn, brought me full circle to my first musical this season, South Pacific.  Even when I was a young woman, I never felt the connection to rock that molded most of my generation.  I was always an Oscar Hammerstein idealist, a cock-eyed optimist, and this has served me well.  I can enjoy the pulsating beat of rock, but I don't think I've ever  connected to its "anomie and apathy" and anger.   Luckily, most of these rebels do grow up.

M&M's

When I worked at the Johnson School we would get M&M's from the Mars recruiters.  I would squirrel away a few packages and treat myself by opening a  package and rationing out 1 or 2 of these colorful candies at a time.  (OK-you know me-the rationing would work for about 15 minutes and then I'd gobble the rest of the package.)  I thought about this habit as I prepared to write about the visits that Greg and I savored slowly last Saturday.

The first two M's were the Magna Carta at the Morgan Library.  We wanted to take advantage of this limited showing of the 1217 document that had landed in the Morgan Library as a byproduct of the flight cancellations created by the volcanic ash in Iceland.  There's not much to say about the document, except it is always a thrill to look at something firsthand that changed the world and think about the significance of these words written on a piece of vellum.  We also wanted to look at Old Man Morgan's sumptious library before they renovate it over the summer. 

Next we walked down Madison Avenue to Madison Square Park and saw some wonderful architecture: the 1893 Metropolitan Life Building with its fantastic clock tower, the 1928 New York Life Insurance Building with its golden pyramid roof and David Burnham's 1902 Flatiron Building. As we walked through Madison Square I realized (duh) that this was the site of the original Madison Square Garden. You can see some of these buildings nestled beneath the Empire State Building in my nighttime skyline photo above. Greg wanted to make sure that you appreciated his fright when he saw a "jumper" atop one of the buildings on 5th Avenue around 20th. I knew that the jumper was just one of 31 naked Men put atop buildings and in Madison Square Park by the artist Antony Gormley for the Event Horizon.

Finally we turned on 21st Street to head to the Gagosian Gallery for the magnificent Monet exhibit.  This show pulled together four rooms of late Monet Water Lilies, which were spectacular transitions to modern art and abstract impressionism.  Many of these paintings were never exhibited in Monet's life and seeing how the aging artist, beset by cataracts, adapted to his world was an inspiration.  Getting old allows one to develop new techniques and a new vision.  The New York Times, once again, has a wonderful review which includes a slideshow of some of the paintings.  The New Yorker said "Do not miss it!" and we are really pleased that we didn't.

An American Eagle's Eyrie: Fleet Week

I guess the aircraft carrier the USS Iwo Jima is hard to miss, but I would have missed this great shot if it weren't for two happy coincidences.  I bought a new telephoto lens on Tuesday and had it at the ready to practice shots during my final week in the eyrie.  And I just happened to see the news trailer from the local news during the Today Show which said that Wednesday was the beginning of Fleet Week.  I looked outside my window and noticed that a parade of 11 vessels had begun.  There was a fireboat spurting red, white and blue sprays greeting the boats off of Governor's Island.  There was a mini-flyover of two jets.  And then the magnificent, huge ship came up the harbor, passed by my Lady Liberty, and headed up the Hudson River to dock for the festivities.  I've posted a few more shots on Flickr if you want to share the view.

This is a good opportunity to try to describe an event that I failed to photograph (what?  How could Kim fail to document something??).  About a month ago I looked out my kitchen window and the biggest boat I had seen so far was going by and heading up the East River towards the Brooklyn Bridge.  It had  Saudi Arabian registry and could have been a tanker.  It was about the size of the Iwo Jima.  I thought, "that's odd".  Ten minutes later I looked out and the tanker had two tugboats and was turning around back towards Ellis Island.  Was this a planned route?  Had the captain made a mistake and started up the wrong river?  Well we'll never know and I can only bore you with my anecdote and not my photos because I was too lazy to get the camera out of the case that day. 

I'll close with the beautiful fireworks from last night.  I was testing my camera on the Promenade when this display started. It was from Ellis Island.  I didn't know it was planned.  I don't even know if it was affiliated with Fleet Week; I tried to check it out on the web but don't find any reference to it.  I was talking to Greg at the time and he told me it was more important to talk to him than to take pictures, but I managed to get the tripod up and the camera set to get about five nice shots.  Did he suspect that I was doing this?  I bet he's glad I went ahead and seized the moment.  

Series Finale

What a sad night last night was-the finale for the original Law and Order.  The New York Times had several articles on the economic and artistic impact that Law and Order has had in New York since it began filming here twenty years ago and the "gaping hole for the economy" that its cancellation creates.   Hundreds of actors and actresses have credentials that include appearances in one of the "ripped from the headlines" Law and Order episodes. A mini industry sprung up around the series that employed caterers, designers and producers, technicians and even trucking companies for the logistics. According to the local NBC News station (4) 3000 actors were employed and $79 million spent in NYC each season!  At first I thought I had noted it wrong, as it was on the news ribbon that runs along the bottom of the screen, but I rewound and double checked it.  Then last night watching the finale I figued that with the students in the school and the jurors and spectators in the courtroom there were easily over 100 actors in one episode.We became aware of this mini-industry every time a sign was posted on one of the Brooklyn Heights streets that indicated a series episode, commercial or movie scene was to be filmed there the next day.  We only would  get excitied, however, for either Law and Order or The Good Wife.  The Good Wife,  while ostensibly taking place in Chicago, is filmed in Brooklyn and many hope it will take up the slack that the Law and Order cancellation will create. 

I didn't expect to see Sam Waterson but had hoped to see  S. Epatha Merkerson when they filmed an episode on the night of February 19 at the brownstone on Columbia Heights around the corner. I reported on this in my blog entry on February 22  titled "Cue: Gavel Sound" I spoke with a crew member earlier in the day and he told me she would be here that evening filming.  However, we had dinner plans that night with friends and I had to show some restraint.  After dinner I suggested they come by to see our apartment and that we walk down Columbia Heights.  The kleig lights were still on and I got my camera ready and even took one blurry shot (above).  But just as I got close enough for a better shot the lights went out and the crew called it a night.  Darn.  We haven't found this episode yet. Perhaps we'll catch up with it in reruns, or perhaps it was for next season and we'll never see it.

I had a little more luck on April 23 when I went out to do some grocery shopping, turned the corner and discovered the filming was in progress at Court Street and Montague.  This time I got to see Jeff Goldblum and Saffron Burrows film a Law and Order Criminal Intent scene involving a Hispanic candidate at a campaign rally with Burrough Hall and the Courthouse in the background.  The flag-waving "supporters", who wore red t-shirts reading Caldera Family Power, were also crew members and very quick to yell at me if I got too close with my camera, or if my flash went off which it did periodically.  Hence out of 25 shots I didn't get many good examples.  It's tough to be a papparazzi. I also reviewed theCriminal Intent plot summaries for the entire season and can't find one that would appear to have this episode.  Once again, perhaps it was for next year?

I find it appropriate that this is the week of the season finale, since it is also our New York City finale and Greg and I will also end our relationship with this wonderful city.  If I were Lenny I would have a great wisecrack, but I can't think of one, said failure helps me appreciate the Law and Order writers even more.  However, given the plot of the finale episode, I did think that TS Eliot had an appropriate wise observation (just not a crack) in The Hollow Men:

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

Elizabliss

Elizabeth Lauren Alexander, my firstborn, had her birthday two weeks ago on May 15.  Don't we all remember that special moment when our children enter the world and we have great plans for them?  I remember looking at that bald head and thinking it would so wonderful dream if she could grow up to be a doctor and have hair.  I got both my wishes!

I thought that during our semester in New York I would be spending countless hours with Beth  but her schedule turned out to be much busier than we both expected.  Beth was spending long hours in the lab at New York Presbyterian Hospital working on her research in bacterial staph infections in order to get more data to back up her NIH grant application.  In addition she was spending Tuesday and Thursday evenings with her running club, a wonderful group of men and women from around the city who have become great friends.  Of course the club was practicing for events which would occur on weekends, such as the half-marathon race pictured above, which meant that she wouldn't have time to come to Brooklyn on the weekends either.  Finally she was traveling to New Jersey, or Riple was coming to Manhattan, for part of the weekend.  All of these endeavors worked out well for her as she was named Fellow of the Year and she raised over $500 for GHESKIO in Haiti with sponsorships from her run. 

So it was a special treat when I talked Beth into playing hooky for a day and spending Friday with me.  We had long talks over morning coffee and an outdoor lunch.  We went shopping at Talbot's, Banana Republic, Eileen Fisher.  We explored Tiffany's where she tried on a $12,000 Phillipe Patek watch and I tried on several $5000 Jean Schlumberger rings and the saleslady recognized her as a doctor who lives on 69th street (small world!). Shopping is so much more fun with someone who'll go back to the rack and get the next size for you as Beth did for me OR who'll offer to buy that cute dress as I did for Beth.  Four times she said "I'm so happy" or "I'm having so much fun"  so I knew that taking time off on a beautiful summer day was a treat for her also.  At the end of the day she came down to Brooklyn Heights and Greg was able to join in the lovefest and we took her to dinner at Jack the Horse, followed by a cigar walk on the Promenade.  The evening was capped off by the best fireworks we've seen from the Eagle's Eyrie centered in the harbor at Ellis Island.  I don't know what the official occasion was, but I decided they were in honor of Elizabliss!

Everyone else calls my daughter Elizabeth except for the immediate family who call her Beth. We asked about her preference and she cherishes the family nickname.    There was a family wedding on Greg's side of the family two weeks ago and I noted that the bride was Lauren Elizabeth, the groom's cousin was Lauren, and Lauren's daughter is Elizabeth.   Greg proudly noted that our Elizabeth Lauren was the first in the family.  I neglected to take a picture yesterday so I'll close with the picture that is the wallpaper for my iPhone and a reminder that I began this semester with another wonderful Elizabliss event at the New Year's Eve premiere of Carmen. 

There's a Hole in My Bucket, Dear Liza (Donna)

This weekend my good friend from Ithaca, Donna Fleming, came to visit and I ran her ragged working through my bucket list.  So this blog entry will run through all the things we saw and experienced.  The old children's song There's a Hole in My Bucket keeps running through my head, because it felt like we were doing a million things to empty the bucket before I leave Brooklyn (I know, I'm mixing the metaphor).  I picked up Donna at the Cornell Club Sunday afternoon and we walked through Bryant Park where the performance art piece Walk the Walk had appeared the previous week.  I've posted video from Walk the Walk on my Facebook page and wonder whether my former colleagues (and Donna's current colleagues) Susan, Holly and Jodie feel this way in their daily routine at the Johnson School and Cornell.  Donna and I walked over the Times Square and took the 3 train over to Brooklyn Heights.  After depositing her bags in our apartment and getting the overview from the terrace, we took off to walk the Brooklyn Bridge and check out downtown Manhattan.  I introduced Donna to City Hall, St. Paul's Chapel (which she already knew) and the rebuilding at Ground Zero.  We walked east to the South Street Seaport and enjoyed the beautiful evening by eating tapas at a sidewalk table at a Brazilian seafood restaurant followed by Hagen Daz ice cream.  Many people were enjoying the beautiful evening, including about 15 Tibetan monks at the Seaport.  We ended the trip with a bucket list item #1: a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge at night and back to 2 Pierrepont Street.

Tuesday we headed up to bucket list item 2 and 3: Union Square and Greenwich Village taking the 5 train from Borough Hall.  On the walk to the subway, Donna got to see the trailers and set-up for a movie being filmed on the steps of Borough Hall.  In Greenwich Village we saw the skinniest house in New York at 75  1/2 Bedford Street, where Edna St. Vincent Millary once lived.  We also saw Twin Peaks, a quirky house which has long welcomed artists and was featured in a NY Times article two Sundays ago.  Donna was quite pleased to recognize the house from the article and I was quite pleased to go back to the article and find 10 great photos of the interior.  Next we walked to 17th Street to the Rubin Museum which was a terrific recommendation from Donna.  This five year old museum houses 6 floors of art from the Himalayas, primarily Tibet and Nepal.  The bulk of the artwork is Buddhist religious art and the installations provide sensitive and important details on both the religion and the important features of the art.  The Rubins must have anticipated my fractured metaphor for this blog, for they had two exhibits on kicking the bucket.  Actually these were titled  "Remember That You Will Die/Death Across Cultures" and "Bardo/Tibetan Art of the Afterlife." We had a wonderful lunch at the Rubin cafe and I highly recommend this small museum to anyone-it certainly helped me better understand Ted and Greg's interest in Buddhism. While it wasn't on my bucket list, it should have been.   Back in the apartment I introduced Donna to another joy of living in Manhattan: ethnic food delivered to your doorway.  In this case we had Turkish food from Taze.  Donna twisted my arm and insisted on buying me desert at the Hagen-Daz on Montague Street, the "oldest Hagen Daz in the world established in 1975" but actually the oldest in the States.  While we ate the ice cream we wandered around Brooklyn Heights, exploring Grace Courtyard, Willow Street and the phony brownstone on Pierrepont Street that is really an emergency exit for the MTA.

Up early for more.  We drove through four boroughs on Tuesday-Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and finally Manhattan.   In the Bronx we came to #4 on the bucket list-the New York Botanical Garden. It was pouring the entire day, so we only reviewed the items inside the Conservatory, but there was plenty to see.  The permanent collection included an extensive recreation of a tropical rain forest as well as desert botanicals.  But my destination was the new exhibit on Emily Dickinson's Garden.

 For a gardener and lover of literature such as myself this was an exquisite combination of glorious bulbs, annuals and perenials highlighted with Dickinson's deceptively simple, intense poems.  Dickinson savored each word in each poem, pressing the words into a single beautiful object much like she pressed individual flowers into the 400 specimens in her herbarium.  The poems were then gathered into handwritten fascicles (a contemporary 19th century word for bouquets) which she either shared with friends or more commonly kept hidden.  Her sister Lavinia (Vinnie) discovered hundreds of these in a chest a few days after Emily's death.  For a wonderful discussion of the groundbreaking genius of Emily Dickinson, an Outlaw of Amherst, as opposed to the stereotyped reclusive old maid, read the article in the Sunday Times by Holland Carter.

It took us awhile to find our way out of the New York Botanical Gardens through the considerably more urban Bronx and over to The Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park in upper Manhattan.  The Cloisters is a step back 700-1200 years to medieval Europe and to a time of "uniform" Christian faith and art.  Donna and I both noticed comparisons with the Buddhist art of the Far East, connections we probably would not have made if we hadn't been at the Rubin Museum the previous day. This was bucket list #5 for me, a must-do for my New York semester and I was not disappointed.  It would have been even better had we not been inundated by rain, but that leaves the opportunity for a sunny visit sometime in the future.  I could immediately connect with the symbolism and allegory of the triptych's, tapestries, reliquaries, stained glass and beautifully reconstructed architectural arches and cloistered courtyards. These illustrated episodes which emanate from my spiritual experience, just as a Buddhist immediately connects with a thangka.  I couldn't take many photos here, because of the low light and the prohibition on the use of flash, so I brought home the museum guide to enjoy these works of art in the future. 

I have discovered that even unexpected, "irritating" events can be more pleasant experiences when one has a bucket list and can approach the event as a unique experience.  On the way back, our access to the Henry Hudson Parkway was blocked by an accident.  So armed with my wonderful iPhone we found our way through upper Manhattan, past the Columbia Medical School (poor wet med school graduates were running in the rain with their blue and black gowns), and down the length of Broadway to complete my bucket list #6 desire to see Harlem and the Upper West Side.  I'll even end on a Pollyannish note and tell you why getting my car towed from the front of our apartment this morning provided me with a 7th bucket list accomplishment.  As I walked across Brookyn Heights I saw more of the old Brooklyn neighborhoods and ended up a the Brooklyn Navy Yard to retrieve my car.  Walking through the gates and looking at the large warehouses in the distance, I could imagine myself as Rosie the Riveter with my lunch box and job ensuring that those battleships were ready to go to help the troops in WWII.  (Paying an accumulated $415 in tickets and fines is our contribution to the city of New York's fiscal crisis and the increased police presence at Times Square).

Enlightenment and Immigration

I've been fascinated by Lady Liberty since the day I first saw her from our apartment.  She's been out in the harbor 24/7, withstanding all the weather that races from the Delaware Water Gap in the west, and sneaks in on a northeaster wind from the Atlantic.  I wanted to wait to get up close to her until we had beautful warm weather but I almost missed my chance.  It turns out over 4.5 million people want to visit her each year and one has to get a ferry reservation to get out to Bedloe Island and the ferry was nearly booked for the rest of May.  Luckily I found one 9 a.m. slot for Tuesday and luckily the weather turned out to be sunny and cool.  I should also say that luckily I did not get a reservation to the crown, which I had wanted to ascend.  Turns out it is a 22 story hike and I don't think the view would have justified the damage to this old lady's knees.  I climbed to the crown when I was twelve and last visited the statue-I've got to stop thinking I'm still a teenager. I will, however, brag that I walked from our apartment to the ferry landing in Battery Park and had another wonderful excursion across the Brooklyn Bridge and through downtown Manhattan.

Obsessive that I am, I ate up all the facts about the design and construction of the Statue in 1886 in the renovated museum inside the pedestal.  The 350 pieces of copper plate had to be attached to an interior scaffolding that was designed by Eiffel, who modeled it on the structures that were being used for the new architecture of skyscrapers.  The beautiful flowing gown of Liberty was based on a Roman palla attached at the shoulder over a stola and would work out to be 4000 square yards were this really fabric.  I love the way Bertholdi was able to mold hard copper into a flowing gown and I took about 30 pictures from every angle in my obsessive need to capture this.

Bertholdi titled his statue "Liberty Enlightening the World" and he built it to highlight the United States' liberty in contrast to the dictatorships in Europe at that time.  It wasn't until the twentieth century that Emma Lazarus's ode to the "poor, huddled masses yearning to be free" was closely identified with the statue even though she won a competition with the poem when the statue was being built. Since this magnificent statue dominated New York Harbor she greeted the millions of immigrants, mainly from Europe, who gambled to come to the United States in search of political, religious and economic liberty and their passionate recollections of the statue's impact on them led to the Lazarus poem becoming re-connected with the monument.

Ellis Island was became the central immigration gateway to the United States from 1892 to 1924.  (It remained open from 1924 to 1954 but as a detention and deportation center only.)  New Yorkers such as my friend, Lynne Allen, will tell stories of going out to Ellis Island in the 1970's and seeing an eerie scene with abandoned trunks. empty hospital beds, and gigantic cobwebs.  It was as if the ghosts of all these striving newcomers were left behind while their new American bodies moved on to homes not only in New York, but onward to Detroit or Cincinnati, Nashville or Albany.  As a result, 1/3 of our current population, 100 million Americans, can trace their roots back to their one of their forebears' initial sojourn on the island, which typically only took 2-5 hours.   The current National Park Service museum, opened in 1990, has a fascinating exhibit, walking us all through the halls and explaining the steps that these 12 million immigrants faced.  I came away with a positive impression about the experieince and had many myths about mistreatment or harsh conditions corrected.  For example, no one had their name changed by the Immigration inspectors.  They didn't have the capacity to change a name and all the records were based on the ship's manifests which generally always had the correct name and spelling for the passenger.

So now for a wish that Lady Liberty's Enlightenment would extend to immigration policy in 2010.  If the "Americans" who are descended from Ellis Island as well other 19th century immigrants who entered through other ports (as the Alexander's and Kruggel's did) thought about the contributions these generations of migrants made to our country, perhaps we would be less hypocritical about the Mexicans, Columbians, Hondurans, Africans, who drive our cabs and pick our crops and deliver our carry-out food in hopes of also finding the American dream that our 19th century ancestors cashed in on.  I'll close with a quote from Ellis Island that Italian immigrants loved to say:

They say the streets are paved in gold in America

They aren't paved in gold

They aren't paved at all

We're expected to pave them.

Ahoy! A Nautical View from the Eyrie

Every day and night, as I look out on the harbor and the confluence of the East River and the Hudson River I marvel at the wonderful opportunity I've had with this birds-eye view of Manhattan.  There is something happening all the time, day and night, and I never seem to tire of the Staten Island Ferry, or the New York Waterway ferries to New Jersey, or the yellow Water Taxis, or the barges, or the schooner Adirondack.  These water vessels are just a handful compared to the ships, ocean liners, ferries and sailboats that sailed into New York in the 400 years since Henry Hudson explored this area.  (Of course, I can't even touch on how many years the less intrusive canoes piloted by the Lenapes used these waterways for fishing and exploration).

Ships and sailing vessels seem more romantic to me than airplanes ever will even though they served the same purpose.   For thousands of years water-bound vessels allowed men to explore the ends of the earth and to introduce new forms of art, precious metals and jewels, commodities, spices, and agricultural products as well as weapons, slaves, opium and disease to their home countries and to other cultures.  These men would be gone for years at a time, often facing great dangers and uncertainties.  Some of these adventurers would lose their souls, like the  mysterious Dutchman in Wagner's Der Fliegende Hollander, who wanders the sea for an eternity landing on shore only every 7 years.  He has accumulated unimaginable wealth but peace and happiness elude him until Senta sacrifices herself for him and frees him from an eternity wandering the sea.   I loved the way the gigantic looming  hull of his ghost ship overwhelmed the Norwegian dock in the Met's production and the haunting double chorus of the two crews contrasted one groups' free camaraderie with the others' shared mutual despair.

The wonderful exhibition at the New York Public Library called Mapping New York's Shoreline let me see how earlier settlers documented the shore and the streets that I have been walking these past few months.  What a thrill to see Pierrepont Street on a 200 year old map and to identify Brooklyn Heights on even older maps.  Over the 400 years since European boats first made their way into the harbor, looking for that elusive quick route to China, the islands, peninsulas and mainland in this area have been witness to naval battles, clipper ships returning from China, steam boats making their way to the new Erie canal,  millions of immigrants crossing the ocean in the steerage of large ocean liners.  And every decade or two, the shoreline would change to accommodate the new, larger boats or add more warehouses or docks, and Manhattan and Brooklyn would morph to accommodate the human flotsam that came ashore.  My next blog will be on my journey out on these waters to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  Until then, let's watch those ships come sailing home in this sunset photo from the Heights.

The Great White Way and 45th Street

My first reaction when I saw news reports showing the green Nissan and the bomb squad was "Whoa, I was just on that corner last week".  In fact, I think I remember the vendor because I had been impressed by his Disabled Vet sign (since my uncle was a disabled WWII vet).  Last Wednesday I went to a performance of Red on 45th Street and two weeks ago I went to a performance of Next To Normal also on 45th.  On the day I went to Red I waited for a long line of school children who were happily heading into The Lion King, exiting a school bus at the exact location that the car I had been parked.  I recount all these memories not just to illustrate the proximity of terrorism to any of us, but also because I've been thinking about Broadway plays and the Great White Way lately.

I'm sure it was a coincidence, but in Sunday's New York Times there was an fascinating article about the competition for theatre space on Broadway and the popularity of 45th and 44th streets because of the high foot traffic there.  Anyone who has been in Times Square recently, on any day of the week, is aware of the incredible crowds.  But in the hour before showtimes, the sidewalks are packed with theatregoers who frequently have to wait until the theatre opens up, often not until 30 minutes or less before showtime.  So when there are  five theatres on one side of the block between 7th and 8th (and four across the street) there are a lot of people standing around. 

On a happier note, I'm going to celebrate the 2010 Tony nominees, especially since I've been fortunate enough to see several of these shows and performers this year.  I've seen two of the four Best Play nominations (Red and Time Stands Still), one of the four Best Revival nominations (A View From the Bridge), two leading actors in a Play (Liev Schreiber in A View and Alfred Molina in Red)  Laura Linney as leading actress in a Play (in Time Stands Still), featured actor in a play (Eddie Redmayne in Red), two featured actresses in a play (Scarlett Johannson and Jessica Hecht in A View From the Bridge).  OK, this may bore you but it makes me happy with how I spent my theatre dollars and I'll be a lot more interested in this year's Tony Awards. 

For Whom the Bell Tolls

On Friday I visited Green-Wood Cemetery-the second oldest "garden" cemetery in the United States and a beautiful 478 acre retreat.  As I approached the magnificent Gothic Revival entrance gate the bell in the tower was tolling.  At first I thought it was because it was noon, but when the bell tolls went way beyond 12 I realized it was to honor that next soul who would be interred on it grounds as another family brought their loved one through the gates.  I've saved that lovely toll on my Facebook page if you care to listen.  This bucolic retreat is set on one of the highest hills in Brooklyn and Battle Hill, at 216 feet is Brooklyn's highest elevation.  Battle Hill is the site of an important Revolutionary War battle in August of 1776, where troops fought unsuccessfully to hold off the overwhelmingly large contingent of British troops and Hessians.  The heights and views from the lovely hill were a major factor in the decision to build a cemetery here in 1838.

As I wandered the grounds, I couldn't help be reflect on the nearly 600,000 souls that were buried here.  There are many famous New Yorkers, and many more who were loved by the small circle of family and friends in whose life they made a difference.  There are beautiful and magnificent vaults and crypts and yet the names of these departed meant very little to me.  As I looked for the tombs of the "famous"  like Leonard Bernstein, or Louis Comfort Tiffany I was surprised at their very basic, simple tombstones.  It was almost a contradiction-if one made a major contribution to art or music there was no reason to erect anything more than a slab of marble with your name on it.  Your work will keep your memory alive.  And if one earned a pile of money but made no lasting contribution, better put up a Greek Temple or Pyramid to remind everyone of how important you think you are. A few weeks ago Greg and I were listening to Beverly Sills sing Norma and I said, I can't imagine that that voice no longer exists and that wonderful singer is just bones and dust.  So as I reflected on how I want to be remembered when my family is deciding on a memorial, I hope it will be a simple marker.  I hope instead there will be charitable actions that remain in their memories (unfortunately there will be no great artistic works or scholarly insights).  But, if I were to have a marble memory left behind, it would be sweet to be remembered the way "Jane" was remembered by her husband on the last day of her life...saying goodbye to him as he left for work.