The week so far

From here

to here

…in the matter of a few days. And yes, I’m one of those people who does this sort of thing and still can’t help but marvel that it’s possible at all. It helps, during delays and travel issues, because it frames the whole experience rather differently. Instead of just what an inconvenience I at least try to frame it in it’s amazing I can fly from NYC to Alabama in a few hours at all…

Also: the extensive travel over the past couple of months is not a frolicking-empty-nester type thing, although the New Mexico jaunt was basically that, sure I admit it. No, the rest of it is centered around family matters and duties, all pleasant and enjoyed, but nonetheless, not about me and my “dreams” or whatever.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve heard and engaged with stories of folks not much older than I am experiencing health issues, all serious, some immediately debilitating, others potentially so in the future.  It’s a common experience, the older you get, isn’t it? Being reminded of the fragility of life and health might inspire to “get all you can out of life while you can” and I admit I feel some of that (and this is not a new theme for me, of course), but right now, it hits different, as we say. At this moment, those reminders prompt me to consider a time – could be tomorrow, could be in ten years – when I can’t be present to the people God has put in my life – present to support, help, celebrate, listen, appreciate, and just be available for whatever adults might need or want from their flawed, limited parent. No “me time” is as important as that – and time is short. Shorter than any of us know.

So anyway. At the beginning of the week, it was up to NYC to celebrate a milestone birthday via a surprise, and then at the end, down to South Carolina to give a hand with childcare.

Some sights seen in the city:

I arrived Sunday evening and stayed in Newark – downtown – it was a good enough hotel, but geez louise, downtown Newark, such a sad place. I’m pretty bold, to the point of foolhardiness, I imagine, but the vibe was off enough that I didn’t feel comfortable even going to the 7-11 across the street for a Diet Coke, settling instead for the hotel’s Diet Pepsi, and if that happened, you know things are serious.

I stayed downtown just because I wanted to be able to walk to the train station in the morning, which I did, taking the train over to Manhattan, leaving my backpack (that’s all I took – I told you, quick trip, and I hate strolling through the city with a roller bag) at the hotel.

It was then a day of…walking. I had no plans, other than to see a thing or two I’d not seen before, eat something interesting and go to Mass somewhere. It being a Monday and a holiday, a lot of places were closed, but it was all very pleasant because even though we tourists walked the streets, there weren’t a lot of us.

Noon Mass at the Old Cathedral of St. Patrick’s, which I prefer to that fancy new one they built up town. (A few years ago, they kindly gave Music Son and I a tour of the historic organ and allowed him to play a bit.)

After Mass, the celebrant brought out a first-class relic of St. Teresa of Calcutta, which we were invited to reverence.

Excellent falafel from Taim for lunch (no picture, too messy) eaten in the park across the way.

Then…wandering around Soho and the Village. I’d never really spent time in historic Greenwich Village, I realized, since as cooperative as my travel companions have been in the past, strolling around early 19^th century rowhouses and contemplating the passage of time has not been something they’d be interested in.

At one point I happened up on a couple of small throngs of people looking up at a building, pointing, posing, and taking photos. What was it? I couldn’t see a marker. There was a restaurant on the ground floor, but nothing special, it seemed. I pulled up Maps – ah. The Friends Apartment.

Got it.

Did that for a while, walked the High Line back towards midtown, thought about all the other times I’ve been in New York City, under various circumstances, with various people. I was glad to be able to do a couple of things that would have bored those other people, but still missed them, and deeply grateful for what all of that travel had brought me – and all of us.

(Church below is Our Lady of Pompeii)

Monday night: Surprise activated and pulled off.

Tuesday morning, the rains came. The good thing is that it was mostly drizzling all day. Only once did it come down hard, and at that point, I was at the door of the New York Public Library, so it was no problem to escape the downpour.

There, I took in an exhibit of some of their holdings – very interesting, ranging, of course, all over the map from performance (Beethoven and Mozart scores, Toscanini’s shoes, scored by him on the soles so he wouldn’t slip off the podium), history, science, and faith. Some interesting artifacts (the desk and chair were Dickens’).

Click on photos for larger images – you should be able to read the cards. Middle image is the account of Juan Diego’s apparition.

Oh, before that, I’d gone to the 7:30 Mass at Holy Innocents – the typical urban daily Mass, with folks of all types wandering in and out, listening to Mass, lighting candles, kneeling attentively, kneeling, head buried in hands. It’s a lovely, church, cluttered with statues and candles, holding untold numbers of prayers, yearnings and weepings. I could not help but think, uncharitably, that those who don’t see the value of a beautiful oasis open to all in the city are stupid, and those who don’t think twice about closing them down are criminal.

(Mass was followed by exposition and Benediction, btw)

All right – to the Morgan, to meet my friend and colleague Ann Engelhart – follow her on Instagram! – and take in the exhibit on the 100^th anniversary of Joyce’s Ulysses.  I was particularly struck by the last manuscript page of the novel, since that last chapter of course inspired the last chapter of one of my favorites, David Lodge’s pastiche The British Museum is Falling Down.

(As well as the page from Woolf’s journal entry detailing her issues with the novel.)

Time to catch the train to the airport – all of that went smoothly. A bit of delay on the tarmac, but even so, we were only about 15 minutes late getting back to BHM. Fine, fine. I’ll just try to stay amazed that we can do this at all.

Be amazed that you can do anything at all. Love, serve, build, create, but most of all, love. Be grateful for the time, for you know very well – it will not last, no matter how fast you run.