Thursday, December 30, 2004
Are Kofi Annan's enemies going to sink the United Nations?
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
The controversy around the proposal to build a 35-story office building tohouse the UN Secretariat during a much-needed renovation of the 53-year oldwhite structure gracing New York's waterfront, a symbol that once embodiedthe world's hope for eternal peace, has put our neighborhood into thecenter of decisions affecting the entire world-wide process for assuranceof co-existence.
Our neighbors, members of Community Board #6, are passing oninternationally weighty matters. The project to save the UN,architecturally at least, and potentially impacting the entire UN worldsafety net as we know it, would destroy the Robert Moses Park, a spot ofgreen on 1st Avenue between 41st and 42nd Streets. A sacrifice, to becompensated by the UN, in return opening a promenade along East River. Thatis the world's payback to the city. Can we deal with the challenge, membersof the global community that we are?
The proposal, supported by Mayor Bloomberg's administration, requires State legislature approval, since it involves doing away with a park. It wassteered through the NYS Assembly by our own Steve Sanders, with theproper provisions for "mitigation" and "replacement," terms acceptable tothe Community Board #6, and a requirement that the project follow theULURP, Uniform Land Use Review Procedure. Majority leader Joseph Bruno hadthe parallel measure introduced in the NYS Senate. Then it ran into localpoliticos, notably Senator Martin Golden (R. Brooklyn) who declared that aslong as Kofi Annan was Secretary General of the UN, he would militateagainst it. This struck a heavy cord with the conservative upstaters, andBruno felt compelled to shelve the bill. Notwithstanding the Bush administration's approval and federal funds allocated for the renovation ofthe Secretariat building, Bruno's office quotes concern that the UN mightfail, and stick the city with the costs of the proposed new construction(the office building is to be financed by bonds issued by the UNDevelopment Corporation, a city-state agency set up to cope with UN'sneeds.) This appears to be an ominous recognition of the Red States' hatredfor the world organization, and certain post-Presidential electionexpectations to sink it.The entire concept is built for controversy. Already the City Council isawash with emotion - several members, not just those representing theOrthodox Jewish community, are rallying against it. The East Siders,traditionally an internationalist group, are divided. There are the NIMBYpark advocates, clashing with the world peace proponents, who see the UN,faulty and ineffective and hateful though it is, as the communal groundsfor the global village meeting, and the foes of the UN.
It should be notedthat since 1948 there have been some 59 UN peacekeeping efforts (SuezCanal, Mozambique and El Salvador were notable successes) and some of theSecretariat's current 16 peacekeeping efforts are partially making it, at acost comparable to that of NYC's fire and police departments.The old Secretariat flagship structure, now 53 years down the road, worn bythe meetings and tourists - still a major destination for dreamy -eyedvisitors - needs preservation.Assemblyman Sanders has attempted to cope with the community objections tosurrender the Robert Moses park for world peace by offering a possiblesubstitution, that the UN build the new offices in its own front yard, thelawn north of the Secretariat Building. That plan disfigures the symbolismof the UN structure and turns the hope of the world into another tightoffice complex. Furthermore, it requires UN rather than public bondfinancing, putting another strain on the contributing nations.
CommunityBoard #6 is dealing with the proposal strictly as a land use matter, as itshould, staying away from the political implications and negotiating withthe UNDC, just like another landlord, for further concessions.It is understood that Assemblyman Sanders will reintroduce the legislationin the next session of the legislature, but only if he has assurances ofsuccess in the Senate.Cofi Annan is the palpable symbol of the controversy, with his positionsvis-à-vis Israel and the war. His son's profiteering in the oil-for-foodand medicine effort contributes to the argument. Paul Wolcker'sinvestigation is a year away from conclusions. A period of inactivity isahead.
From the point of vantage of this observer, the UN, with all its faults, isstill the only common grounds for international cooperation. The neighborhood should be willing to accept the sacrifice required for thegreater good of the global village.UN might as well continue to be here,under our eyes, as in Bonn, where empty office buildings appear to be stillwaiting for international tenants, should NYC fail them. For the mothers ofthe neighborhood, it will involve wheeling the baby carriages around, alot, from one venue to another. It is doable, we have done it. Giving up asmall park and acquiring a promenade, and furthering the principle of peacein the world...come on, play the odds.
Wally Dobelis thanks Gary Papush and Carol Schachter of CB #6 and Matthew Grace of The New Observer for information.
The controversy around the proposal to build a 35-story office building tohouse the UN Secretariat during a much-needed renovation of the 53-year oldwhite structure gracing New York's waterfront, a symbol that once embodiedthe world's hope for eternal peace, has put our neighborhood into thecenter of decisions affecting the entire world-wide process for assuranceof co-existence.
Our neighbors, members of Community Board #6, are passing oninternationally weighty matters. The project to save the UN,architecturally at least, and potentially impacting the entire UN worldsafety net as we know it, would destroy the Robert Moses Park, a spot ofgreen on 1st Avenue between 41st and 42nd Streets. A sacrifice, to becompensated by the UN, in return opening a promenade along East River. Thatis the world's payback to the city. Can we deal with the challenge, membersof the global community that we are?
The proposal, supported by Mayor Bloomberg's administration, requires State legislature approval, since it involves doing away with a park. It wassteered through the NYS Assembly by our own Steve Sanders, with theproper provisions for "mitigation" and "replacement," terms acceptable tothe Community Board #6, and a requirement that the project follow theULURP, Uniform Land Use Review Procedure. Majority leader Joseph Bruno hadthe parallel measure introduced in the NYS Senate. Then it ran into localpoliticos, notably Senator Martin Golden (R. Brooklyn) who declared that aslong as Kofi Annan was Secretary General of the UN, he would militateagainst it. This struck a heavy cord with the conservative upstaters, andBruno felt compelled to shelve the bill. Notwithstanding the Bush administration's approval and federal funds allocated for the renovation ofthe Secretariat building, Bruno's office quotes concern that the UN mightfail, and stick the city with the costs of the proposed new construction(the office building is to be financed by bonds issued by the UNDevelopment Corporation, a city-state agency set up to cope with UN'sneeds.) This appears to be an ominous recognition of the Red States' hatredfor the world organization, and certain post-Presidential electionexpectations to sink it.The entire concept is built for controversy. Already the City Council isawash with emotion - several members, not just those representing theOrthodox Jewish community, are rallying against it. The East Siders,traditionally an internationalist group, are divided. There are the NIMBYpark advocates, clashing with the world peace proponents, who see the UN,faulty and ineffective and hateful though it is, as the communal groundsfor the global village meeting, and the foes of the UN.
It should be notedthat since 1948 there have been some 59 UN peacekeeping efforts (SuezCanal, Mozambique and El Salvador were notable successes) and some of theSecretariat's current 16 peacekeeping efforts are partially making it, at acost comparable to that of NYC's fire and police departments.The old Secretariat flagship structure, now 53 years down the road, worn bythe meetings and tourists - still a major destination for dreamy -eyedvisitors - needs preservation.Assemblyman Sanders has attempted to cope with the community objections tosurrender the Robert Moses park for world peace by offering a possiblesubstitution, that the UN build the new offices in its own front yard, thelawn north of the Secretariat Building. That plan disfigures the symbolismof the UN structure and turns the hope of the world into another tightoffice complex. Furthermore, it requires UN rather than public bondfinancing, putting another strain on the contributing nations.
CommunityBoard #6 is dealing with the proposal strictly as a land use matter, as itshould, staying away from the political implications and negotiating withthe UNDC, just like another landlord, for further concessions.It is understood that Assemblyman Sanders will reintroduce the legislationin the next session of the legislature, but only if he has assurances ofsuccess in the Senate.Cofi Annan is the palpable symbol of the controversy, with his positionsvis-à-vis Israel and the war. His son's profiteering in the oil-for-foodand medicine effort contributes to the argument. Paul Wolcker'sinvestigation is a year away from conclusions. A period of inactivity isahead.
From the point of vantage of this observer, the UN, with all its faults, isstill the only common grounds for international cooperation. The neighborhood should be willing to accept the sacrifice required for thegreater good of the global village.UN might as well continue to be here,under our eyes, as in Bonn, where empty office buildings appear to be stillwaiting for international tenants, should NYC fail them. For the mothers ofthe neighborhood, it will involve wheeling the baby carriages around, alot, from one venue to another. It is doable, we have done it. Giving up asmall park and acquiring a promenade, and furthering the principle of peacein the world...come on, play the odds.
Wally Dobelis thanks Gary Papush and Carol Schachter of CB #6 and Matthew Grace of The New Observer for information.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Florida Keys - an excellent place for your health
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
There’s something almost mythical about the health aspects of the Keys for this family, anyway. In January, when we are run down by New York’s winter, colds and coughs, we will grab a quick Jet-Blue flight to Ft. Lauderdale , rent a car and drive the 80 miles to Key Largo, for a couple of weeks of our walk therapy, to burn the bad things out of our systems. It works, almost miraculously.
Key Largo, 50 miles south of Miami an 100 miles north of Key West, is a quiet place. You cross the 20-mile bridge separating the continent from the coral islands, and you are in the Caribbean, a sub-tropical coral island chain. . Some people call it Paradise, a quiet one.
.
In KL, a fishing village, the exciting nights are Monday and Wednesday, when the neat Public Library, next to the Publix supermarket, is open till 8 PM. The PL happens to be also the Internet Café, where granddads and grandmas get on the e-mail to keep in touch with the families. The seven PCs - there used to be three, until Bill and Melissa Gates gave the lib four more – are available for 20-minute stretches, on sign-up, with people waiting in line all through the day.
About the walking. Our condo colomy, MoonBay, is at MM104 (that’s Mile Marker, or our distance to Key West), alongside the Overseas Highway or US1, the one-lane road which keeps tourist traffic in the Keys from overflowing the fragile islands. It expands in the towns, KL, Islamorada, Marathon and KW. Four miles south, at MM100, is the KL Municipal Park, with beautifully kept grounds, Little League fields and tennis courts, and an expensive swimming pool, donated by a rich woman from Ocean Reef, the exclusive and secretive condo enclave for millionaires at the north end of the island (it has its own aiport). A walk around the inside of the park is ½ mile, and we usually start with two rounds in the morning, progressing to four and six as our staycontinues, checking our weight immediately afterwards at the Publix scale -they also have a BP machine - while shopping for breakfast (have to bring a jacket there, the air conditioning is wicked, only the library really balances its six AC units to protect the elderly readers.) Or we go to Hideout Cafe (off MM103.5, on the ocean side).
Sometimes we repeat the walk in the PM, more often settling for walking rounds inside our MoonBay condo colony grounds (three trips are a mile). The more ambitious exercisers also include a few walks up and down the 5-story open staircases of the A building, lingering at the top of the stairs for a sunrise view of the Keys. Some find the top walkway a neat place to read the Miami Herald, which one picks up at the coin dispenser near the entrance.
Sunrises are spectacular, and some of us jump into the car and drive six miles north, towards Ocean Reef, where there’s access to an ocean inlet, offering a view of water, some lonely boats, the path of the sun and pelicans. If you catch the proper cloud effect, it is truly brathtaking,
Sunsets over Florida Bay are equally dramatic, and we the snowbirds come out of our condos every evening, with wine glasses and chips, to gather around the tiki (a palm thatched shed) at the end of the pier protecting our marina, to drink in the serene view (Thursday nights we have regular parties in the Community Room, which has full glass doors opening to the bay). No reputed green flashes, the strange effect touted by bartenders at tropical watering places, have been observed to date, although you often hear it referenced.
The MoonBay tiki area is also where manatees, cow-size mammals of the warm seas, come looking for fresh drinking water, sometimes bringing their babies. It is not legal to take care of them, they should find streams feeding from the aquifer, but we care, and feed them with the watering hose. What’s more, we jump in and swim with them. A hunter friend from icy Buffalo, NY, has become the official caregiver, scrubbing them, to get rid of the barnacles. I have manatee stories, for hours.
Dinner. Most of us cook after the sunset, indoors or outdoors, the latter at one of the three public outdoor grills, either steaks from Publix, or filets of fish - mahi-mahi or certified local snapper, bought at the KL Fish Market near the park, next to the fishermen’s pier. For a leisurely meal out praqctically next door, all you have to do is call in your reservation, then let yourself out at the plastic key-fed exit gate and walk a hundred yards south to Hobo’s, a popular plain table fish restaurant , where the motherly British hostess will find you a seat, if need be at the bar, where they play a movie quiz game every night. You can also hop in your car and drive half a mile to Sundowners (or its neighbors, Senor Frijoles ) to sit on the deck and wach the sunset, while boaters tie up at the pier below your feet, to dine in the sandy garden, where a Jimmy Buffet sound-alike treats them to Cheeseburgers in Paradise and Margaritaville, or anything else a parrothead demands.
Or, if you are feeling adventurous, drive to the Islamorada Fish Factory, 20 miles south (next to the Bass luxury fishermen’s outlet), where they serve baskets of scallops, conch, oyster and more ordinary fare on an open-air deck built out over the water. The bay is pitch dark at night, and watching an incoming boat quietly gliding to the pier is a serene treat beyond compare. There you definitely have to wait for seats during lunch and dinner hours – but that is easy, you can visit the Bass tanks of pelagic sports fish, tarpons and amberjacks, or check out Spanish silver coins from the galleon era, or buy some crab legs for tomorrow’s snack at the retail store – we once saw a yachtsman and his trophy woman buy $200 worth of arctic king crab legs and dipping sauce – that’s all the food they wanted – to go with the iced champagne for their afternoon outing in the bay. You may run into a boater with stories from Cheeca Lodge, where they hold the annual G.W. H. Bush bone-fishing contest.
If you are not interested in catching tricky inedible fish, there are other opportunities. At MM100, the Holiday Inn pier, is the sportsmen’s harbor, you can rent a yacht for a day, champagne included, tarpon success guaranteed, or go on a party boat. In the afternoon, when the boats return, you can buy fish fresh out of the ocean. Just walking around and checking out the boats, and hearing the salty lingo at Sporty’s bar is good, as is eating a dozen shrimp and crackers at the upstairs deck of Coconuts, overlooking the harbor. There is the African Queen, the old Zambezi steamer that Humphrey Bogart and Catherine Hepburn sailed in the eponymous film (I keep a copy at the condo, also one of Key Largo, the movie that gave KL its name, it was Rock Harbor until 1947), available for excursions, and the gambling taxi, a biggish yacht that will take you out beyond the three-mile limit, where a Cruz casino ship with two decks awash with slot machines will give you hours of entertainment. We take it for the ocean ride (almost free of charge, if you look for discount tickets at local gas stations).
Other rides – snorkeling, glass bottom boat, scuba diving – are available at the John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park (MM102.5), a National Marine Preserve, with a sadly diminishing coral treasure, and a small sandy swimming beach, admission $5 per carload.
Beaches. The Keys, being coral islands, have few sandy beaches. Harry Harris at MM92.5 is okay; the best is the Sombrero Beach at Marathon, MM50, a good scenic ride that gives you full view of the beauties of the Keys. Eat along the road. Stop at Lorelei (MM82) for a sunset folk concert, grab lunch at Whale Harbor (MM83), a bite at Hog Heaven (MM85.3), or Snapper, Ballyhoo Grill & Grog, Mandalay or Bentley’s, all local legends. Papa Joe’s Tiki Bar has good pizza and sunset views. Mrs. Mac’s Kitchen (MM89.5) is solid.
The Everglades, a 40-mile wide river flowing at the rate of one ft per minute or so is about 30 miles away from MoonBay – 20 miles back over the bridge to mainland, and a 10 mile inland ride, after turning west at the Florida City, past the famous Here’s Robert! a legendary shack selling local citrus fruit and greens, featuring products of Homestead farms, South Florida’s great farm area that used to supply the East Coast with winter tomatoes before NAFTA brought Mexico into the picture. Robert is furious, now the farms are slowly turning into thousands of small houses and condominiums. The Keys are fortunately protected against overbuilding , allowing 200 new units per year, though old-boy deals are made. But I digress.
At the entrance to the Everglades you pay $10, unless you have have a National Parks Golden Age Passport, a wonderful one-time investment for the 50+ crowd. Pass the Admin building (good exhibits) and continue 5 mi to the Palm Court turnoff, park your car and start walking the less than a mile path into the wonderful anhinga, cormorant, alligator and wood stork world, your best overview of the Everglades. The birds and animals fish and hunt, oblivious of your presence. We have been coming once or twice a year for the past two decades, and there’s always something new. During the nesting season you will meet the world’s greatest nature photographers there.
The road continues 36 more miles south, to Flamingo, a Parks town, base for overnight stays and weekly vacationers, early morning canoe trips into the bird paradise, boat trips up the small creeks filled with nature. Along the road are side passages to hammocks (sawgrass islands in the Everglades river), ponds and towers offering varieties of viewpoints for nature study. At Flamingo is also the Echo Pond, where all kinds of birds come to roost in the trees in the middle, saved from predators by the body of water.
Part of Everglades is also Shark Valley, about 40 miles north from Florida City, through the farmland, hibiscus and bougainvillea nurseries and pick-your –own strawberry fields, to Alligator Alley (turning west at the Miccosukee Gambling Resort and hotel). This is an alligator paradise. Take the guided trolley, rent a bike, or walk, stepping over creatures of all sizes.
If you want care for more creatures and birds, there is a center at MM86 for wounded pelicans ibises and herons.
Key West is another destination, gateway for a catamaran trip to Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas 86 miles towards Cuba, where we once saw the strangest refugee boat, a box of welded steel plates driven by a truck engine (and huge oars, since the motor failed). The people were granted refuge since the vessel, if you call it that, reached the US. Visiting Dry Tortugas is an overnight trip, since an early morning car ride may run into school bus caravans, slowing it down. You can stay at KW in the tallest building, the old La Concha Hotel, and greet the sunset on its roof with a margarita, or go to the Mallory Peer, to watch snake charmers and trained cat owners, all refugees from the 1960s, perform for pennies. KW ias also good for Hemingway lore, chugging brewskis on Duval Street and the arts scene.
All the lower Keys have events to offer, tiny Keys deer crossing the highway and dolphins. To return to health aspects, the Europeans have discovered the mythical power dolphins have in diagnosing ailments, and the health benefits of swwimming with dolphins for autistic children. English, Irish and German visitors bring their children to the Keys dolphin centers for a daily hour of interaction (we have two such institutions in KL alone), with trained attendants and parents on hand. We know families who have returned year after year, with palpable improvements.
There’s something almost mythical about the health aspects of the Keys for this family, anyway. In January, when we are run down by New York’s winter, colds and coughs, we will grab a quick Jet-Blue flight to Ft. Lauderdale , rent a car and drive the 80 miles to Key Largo, for a couple of weeks of our walk therapy, to burn the bad things out of our systems. It works, almost miraculously.
Key Largo, 50 miles south of Miami an 100 miles north of Key West, is a quiet place. You cross the 20-mile bridge separating the continent from the coral islands, and you are in the Caribbean, a sub-tropical coral island chain. . Some people call it Paradise, a quiet one.
.
In KL, a fishing village, the exciting nights are Monday and Wednesday, when the neat Public Library, next to the Publix supermarket, is open till 8 PM. The PL happens to be also the Internet Café, where granddads and grandmas get on the e-mail to keep in touch with the families. The seven PCs - there used to be three, until Bill and Melissa Gates gave the lib four more – are available for 20-minute stretches, on sign-up, with people waiting in line all through the day.
About the walking. Our condo colomy, MoonBay, is at MM104 (that’s Mile Marker, or our distance to Key West), alongside the Overseas Highway or US1, the one-lane road which keeps tourist traffic in the Keys from overflowing the fragile islands. It expands in the towns, KL, Islamorada, Marathon and KW. Four miles south, at MM100, is the KL Municipal Park, with beautifully kept grounds, Little League fields and tennis courts, and an expensive swimming pool, donated by a rich woman from Ocean Reef, the exclusive and secretive condo enclave for millionaires at the north end of the island (it has its own aiport). A walk around the inside of the park is ½ mile, and we usually start with two rounds in the morning, progressing to four and six as our staycontinues, checking our weight immediately afterwards at the Publix scale -they also have a BP machine - while shopping for breakfast (have to bring a jacket there, the air conditioning is wicked, only the library really balances its six AC units to protect the elderly readers.) Or we go to Hideout Cafe (off MM103.5, on the ocean side).
Sometimes we repeat the walk in the PM, more often settling for walking rounds inside our MoonBay condo colony grounds (three trips are a mile). The more ambitious exercisers also include a few walks up and down the 5-story open staircases of the A building, lingering at the top of the stairs for a sunrise view of the Keys. Some find the top walkway a neat place to read the Miami Herald, which one picks up at the coin dispenser near the entrance.
Sunrises are spectacular, and some of us jump into the car and drive six miles north, towards Ocean Reef, where there’s access to an ocean inlet, offering a view of water, some lonely boats, the path of the sun and pelicans. If you catch the proper cloud effect, it is truly brathtaking,
Sunsets over Florida Bay are equally dramatic, and we the snowbirds come out of our condos every evening, with wine glasses and chips, to gather around the tiki (a palm thatched shed) at the end of the pier protecting our marina, to drink in the serene view (Thursday nights we have regular parties in the Community Room, which has full glass doors opening to the bay). No reputed green flashes, the strange effect touted by bartenders at tropical watering places, have been observed to date, although you often hear it referenced.
The MoonBay tiki area is also where manatees, cow-size mammals of the warm seas, come looking for fresh drinking water, sometimes bringing their babies. It is not legal to take care of them, they should find streams feeding from the aquifer, but we care, and feed them with the watering hose. What’s more, we jump in and swim with them. A hunter friend from icy Buffalo, NY, has become the official caregiver, scrubbing them, to get rid of the barnacles. I have manatee stories, for hours.
Dinner. Most of us cook after the sunset, indoors or outdoors, the latter at one of the three public outdoor grills, either steaks from Publix, or filets of fish - mahi-mahi or certified local snapper, bought at the KL Fish Market near the park, next to the fishermen’s pier. For a leisurely meal out praqctically next door, all you have to do is call in your reservation, then let yourself out at the plastic key-fed exit gate and walk a hundred yards south to Hobo’s, a popular plain table fish restaurant , where the motherly British hostess will find you a seat, if need be at the bar, where they play a movie quiz game every night. You can also hop in your car and drive half a mile to Sundowners (or its neighbors, Senor Frijoles ) to sit on the deck and wach the sunset, while boaters tie up at the pier below your feet, to dine in the sandy garden, where a Jimmy Buffet sound-alike treats them to Cheeseburgers in Paradise and Margaritaville, or anything else a parrothead demands.
Or, if you are feeling adventurous, drive to the Islamorada Fish Factory, 20 miles south (next to the Bass luxury fishermen’s outlet), where they serve baskets of scallops, conch, oyster and more ordinary fare on an open-air deck built out over the water. The bay is pitch dark at night, and watching an incoming boat quietly gliding to the pier is a serene treat beyond compare. There you definitely have to wait for seats during lunch and dinner hours – but that is easy, you can visit the Bass tanks of pelagic sports fish, tarpons and amberjacks, or check out Spanish silver coins from the galleon era, or buy some crab legs for tomorrow’s snack at the retail store – we once saw a yachtsman and his trophy woman buy $200 worth of arctic king crab legs and dipping sauce – that’s all the food they wanted – to go with the iced champagne for their afternoon outing in the bay. You may run into a boater with stories from Cheeca Lodge, where they hold the annual G.W. H. Bush bone-fishing contest.
If you are not interested in catching tricky inedible fish, there are other opportunities. At MM100, the Holiday Inn pier, is the sportsmen’s harbor, you can rent a yacht for a day, champagne included, tarpon success guaranteed, or go on a party boat. In the afternoon, when the boats return, you can buy fish fresh out of the ocean. Just walking around and checking out the boats, and hearing the salty lingo at Sporty’s bar is good, as is eating a dozen shrimp and crackers at the upstairs deck of Coconuts, overlooking the harbor. There is the African Queen, the old Zambezi steamer that Humphrey Bogart and Catherine Hepburn sailed in the eponymous film (I keep a copy at the condo, also one of Key Largo, the movie that gave KL its name, it was Rock Harbor until 1947), available for excursions, and the gambling taxi, a biggish yacht that will take you out beyond the three-mile limit, where a Cruz casino ship with two decks awash with slot machines will give you hours of entertainment. We take it for the ocean ride (almost free of charge, if you look for discount tickets at local gas stations).
Other rides – snorkeling, glass bottom boat, scuba diving – are available at the John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park (MM102.5), a National Marine Preserve, with a sadly diminishing coral treasure, and a small sandy swimming beach, admission $5 per carload.
Beaches. The Keys, being coral islands, have few sandy beaches. Harry Harris at MM92.5 is okay; the best is the Sombrero Beach at Marathon, MM50, a good scenic ride that gives you full view of the beauties of the Keys. Eat along the road. Stop at Lorelei (MM82) for a sunset folk concert, grab lunch at Whale Harbor (MM83), a bite at Hog Heaven (MM85.3), or Snapper, Ballyhoo Grill & Grog, Mandalay or Bentley’s, all local legends. Papa Joe’s Tiki Bar has good pizza and sunset views. Mrs. Mac’s Kitchen (MM89.5) is solid.
The Everglades, a 40-mile wide river flowing at the rate of one ft per minute or so is about 30 miles away from MoonBay – 20 miles back over the bridge to mainland, and a 10 mile inland ride, after turning west at the Florida City, past the famous Here’s Robert! a legendary shack selling local citrus fruit and greens, featuring products of Homestead farms, South Florida’s great farm area that used to supply the East Coast with winter tomatoes before NAFTA brought Mexico into the picture. Robert is furious, now the farms are slowly turning into thousands of small houses and condominiums. The Keys are fortunately protected against overbuilding , allowing 200 new units per year, though old-boy deals are made. But I digress.
At the entrance to the Everglades you pay $10, unless you have have a National Parks Golden Age Passport, a wonderful one-time investment for the 50+ crowd. Pass the Admin building (good exhibits) and continue 5 mi to the Palm Court turnoff, park your car and start walking the less than a mile path into the wonderful anhinga, cormorant, alligator and wood stork world, your best overview of the Everglades. The birds and animals fish and hunt, oblivious of your presence. We have been coming once or twice a year for the past two decades, and there’s always something new. During the nesting season you will meet the world’s greatest nature photographers there.
The road continues 36 more miles south, to Flamingo, a Parks town, base for overnight stays and weekly vacationers, early morning canoe trips into the bird paradise, boat trips up the small creeks filled with nature. Along the road are side passages to hammocks (sawgrass islands in the Everglades river), ponds and towers offering varieties of viewpoints for nature study. At Flamingo is also the Echo Pond, where all kinds of birds come to roost in the trees in the middle, saved from predators by the body of water.
Part of Everglades is also Shark Valley, about 40 miles north from Florida City, through the farmland, hibiscus and bougainvillea nurseries and pick-your –own strawberry fields, to Alligator Alley (turning west at the Miccosukee Gambling Resort and hotel). This is an alligator paradise. Take the guided trolley, rent a bike, or walk, stepping over creatures of all sizes.
If you want care for more creatures and birds, there is a center at MM86 for wounded pelicans ibises and herons.
Key West is another destination, gateway for a catamaran trip to Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas 86 miles towards Cuba, where we once saw the strangest refugee boat, a box of welded steel plates driven by a truck engine (and huge oars, since the motor failed). The people were granted refuge since the vessel, if you call it that, reached the US. Visiting Dry Tortugas is an overnight trip, since an early morning car ride may run into school bus caravans, slowing it down. You can stay at KW in the tallest building, the old La Concha Hotel, and greet the sunset on its roof with a margarita, or go to the Mallory Peer, to watch snake charmers and trained cat owners, all refugees from the 1960s, perform for pennies. KW ias also good for Hemingway lore, chugging brewskis on Duval Street and the arts scene.
All the lower Keys have events to offer, tiny Keys deer crossing the highway and dolphins. To return to health aspects, the Europeans have discovered the mythical power dolphins have in diagnosing ailments, and the health benefits of swwimming with dolphins for autistic children. English, Irish and German visitors bring their children to the Keys dolphin centers for a daily hour of interaction (we have two such institutions in KL alone), with trained attendants and parents on hand. We know families who have returned year after year, with palpable improvements.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Be A Shelter Volunteer for the Homeless
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
Although our lives have radically changed as the result of the events of9/11, one thing remains constant: the need for night shelter for thehomeless of our city increases.This neighborhood should feel proud. We are the best, the kindest, thecream. We live in one of the most socially caring and hospitable areas ofthe city, and we support not only 10 hospitals, 8 methadone clinics, 2major city homeless shelters and a big welfare office, but also severalchurch- and synagogue-based overnight stay facilities.These facilities are run quietly, without disturbance to the neighborhood,yet they provide a palpable service to the needy. How do they work?Well, there is an organization, The Partnership for the Homeless, startedin 1982. It helps to get the non-vagrant type homeless, men and women, offthe streets of NYC, into drop-in centers, where they are screened andtested (all tubercular persons are sent to therapy), medically cared for,given meals, sent to rehabilitation training and transported at night toshelters, in churches, synagogues and armories. This is paid for by privatedonations as well as city, state and federal funds.The Partnership takes care of 1200 men and women, utilizing nine drop-incenters and calls on 107 shelter facilities in all 5 boroughs. Seven ofthe drop-in centers are in Manhattan, two in Brooklyn and Staten Island.Given the total of over 15,000 homeless housed in city shelters, and manythousands more on the streets, this may seem a drop in the bucket. We whoare involved do not think so. Our guests either have become homelessinvoluntarily - they were burned out or lost their jobs - or cannot takecare of themselves in low pay jobs, such as dishwashers, kitchen help,casual labor, because housing costs too much. Some have addiction, physicalor mental problems.For the rehabilitable our efforts lead to return to the mainstream, for thesick - to eventual permanent housing. The Partnership has located housingfor more than 300 individuals and families a year, and provided furniturefor 300 apartments for formerly homeless families and individualsannually. Network Program trains men and women in job acquisition skillsand provides hundreds of referrals to training and jobs, every year. Thatis a significant count.Getting back to the call for action, in this immediate area we have fourvolunteer-staffed overnight shelters, all non-sectarian, each accepting8-15 homeless guests a night - Brotherhood Synagogue (Judy Golden, PeggyKeilus 674-5750), St. George's Church (Pat Schaefer 475-0830 x 12), theFriends’ Meeting House (Sylvia Friedman 673-8316) and the Madison AvenueBaptist Church (Melvin Bell 685-1377). Friends' and St. George's sheltersare year-round. They all need volunteer workers - male and female - to stayovernight with our homeless guests, once a month or more frequently, ifyour schedule permits. The work is simple, non-hazardous and verygratifying. I shall describe the procedure at Brotherhood.The guests sign up for a shelter at the drop-in center, and are transportedby a city school bus, which delivers them, with a checklist, to the churchor synagogue between 8 and 9 PM. The volunteers, a coordinator and a sextonwill have set up cots (fresh linen every night), sandwiches and coffee, andwill welcome the guests, who are usually tired, want to wash themselves,have a bite and go to bed after the meal, before the 11 PM lights-out. Avolunteer - plus the sexton or other staff person - sleeps in the shelterovernight, separate from the guests. The volunteers are there to provideassistance in cases of need. At the Brotherhood Synagogue shelter I recallno more than four instances over 22 years that the volunteer had to obtainhelp for a guest with a problem during the night, none threatening.Between 6 and 6:30 AM the volunteers will make toast and serve, with tea orcoffee. By 7 AM the volunteers will have gone home or to work, after theguests have been picked up by the city and returned to the drop-in center.Most volunteers, working people, come to work at the shelter at 8 PM intheir sweat clothes or dungarees and carry a dress or suit for use nextday, if they are going to work directly. They have a full night's sleep,and no one has ever complained of having been ruined for the day'sactivities. On the contrary, this has been a heartening experience for thevolunteers, an opportunity to do good, hands on. It is not like giving $50to a charity, good but indirect. Talking with and cheering up people whohave less than we gives us an opportunity to assess our place in the sun.Volunteers come back time and again because doing good feels good. We arenot just chessboard figures, we do things, we make good things happen.Try volunteering for one night. Call the shelter providers, and find outwhat their needs are. You will find out what life is like, out there, youwill hear stories. Invite a friend to volunteer with you, for your mutualcomfort.And if staying overnight does not fit in with your life requirements, youcan be a coordinator. Brotherhood has a coordinator for each night of theweek when the shelter is open. The coordinator looks after the fooddonations, helps make sandwiches, greets the guests and the volunteers andgoes home at lights-out.Wally Dobelis is an elected member in the Partnership for the Homeless, andfor the past 22 years has been the coordinator of volunteers for theBrotherhood Synagogue shelter. He and the T&V family wish you a happybelated Thanksgiving, merry Christmas, happy Chanukah, a glorious Kwanzaaand good health and happiness for the coming New Year.
Although our lives have radically changed as the result of the events of9/11, one thing remains constant: the need for night shelter for thehomeless of our city increases.This neighborhood should feel proud. We are the best, the kindest, thecream. We live in one of the most socially caring and hospitable areas ofthe city, and we support not only 10 hospitals, 8 methadone clinics, 2major city homeless shelters and a big welfare office, but also severalchurch- and synagogue-based overnight stay facilities.These facilities are run quietly, without disturbance to the neighborhood,yet they provide a palpable service to the needy. How do they work?Well, there is an organization, The Partnership for the Homeless, startedin 1982. It helps to get the non-vagrant type homeless, men and women, offthe streets of NYC, into drop-in centers, where they are screened andtested (all tubercular persons are sent to therapy), medically cared for,given meals, sent to rehabilitation training and transported at night toshelters, in churches, synagogues and armories. This is paid for by privatedonations as well as city, state and federal funds.The Partnership takes care of 1200 men and women, utilizing nine drop-incenters and calls on 107 shelter facilities in all 5 boroughs. Seven ofthe drop-in centers are in Manhattan, two in Brooklyn and Staten Island.Given the total of over 15,000 homeless housed in city shelters, and manythousands more on the streets, this may seem a drop in the bucket. We whoare involved do not think so. Our guests either have become homelessinvoluntarily - they were burned out or lost their jobs - or cannot takecare of themselves in low pay jobs, such as dishwashers, kitchen help,casual labor, because housing costs too much. Some have addiction, physicalor mental problems.For the rehabilitable our efforts lead to return to the mainstream, for thesick - to eventual permanent housing. The Partnership has located housingfor more than 300 individuals and families a year, and provided furniturefor 300 apartments for formerly homeless families and individualsannually. Network Program trains men and women in job acquisition skillsand provides hundreds of referrals to training and jobs, every year. Thatis a significant count.Getting back to the call for action, in this immediate area we have fourvolunteer-staffed overnight shelters, all non-sectarian, each accepting8-15 homeless guests a night - Brotherhood Synagogue (Judy Golden, PeggyKeilus 674-5750), St. George's Church (Pat Schaefer 475-0830 x 12), theFriends’ Meeting House (Sylvia Friedman 673-8316) and the Madison AvenueBaptist Church (Melvin Bell 685-1377). Friends' and St. George's sheltersare year-round. They all need volunteer workers - male and female - to stayovernight with our homeless guests, once a month or more frequently, ifyour schedule permits. The work is simple, non-hazardous and verygratifying. I shall describe the procedure at Brotherhood.The guests sign up for a shelter at the drop-in center, and are transportedby a city school bus, which delivers them, with a checklist, to the churchor synagogue between 8 and 9 PM. The volunteers, a coordinator and a sextonwill have set up cots (fresh linen every night), sandwiches and coffee, andwill welcome the guests, who are usually tired, want to wash themselves,have a bite and go to bed after the meal, before the 11 PM lights-out. Avolunteer - plus the sexton or other staff person - sleeps in the shelterovernight, separate from the guests. The volunteers are there to provideassistance in cases of need. At the Brotherhood Synagogue shelter I recallno more than four instances over 22 years that the volunteer had to obtainhelp for a guest with a problem during the night, none threatening.Between 6 and 6:30 AM the volunteers will make toast and serve, with tea orcoffee. By 7 AM the volunteers will have gone home or to work, after theguests have been picked up by the city and returned to the drop-in center.Most volunteers, working people, come to work at the shelter at 8 PM intheir sweat clothes or dungarees and carry a dress or suit for use nextday, if they are going to work directly. They have a full night's sleep,and no one has ever complained of having been ruined for the day'sactivities. On the contrary, this has been a heartening experience for thevolunteers, an opportunity to do good, hands on. It is not like giving $50to a charity, good but indirect. Talking with and cheering up people whohave less than we gives us an opportunity to assess our place in the sun.Volunteers come back time and again because doing good feels good. We arenot just chessboard figures, we do things, we make good things happen.Try volunteering for one night. Call the shelter providers, and find outwhat their needs are. You will find out what life is like, out there, youwill hear stories. Invite a friend to volunteer with you, for your mutualcomfort.And if staying overnight does not fit in with your life requirements, youcan be a coordinator. Brotherhood has a coordinator for each night of theweek when the shelter is open. The coordinator looks after the fooddonations, helps make sandwiches, greets the guests and the volunteers andgoes home at lights-out.Wally Dobelis is an elected member in the Partnership for the Homeless, andfor the past 22 years has been the coordinator of volunteers for theBrotherhood Synagogue shelter. He and the T&V family wish you a happybelated Thanksgiving, merry Christmas, happy Chanukah, a glorious Kwanzaaand good health and happiness for the coming New Year.
Monday, December 06, 2004
The experience of MRI, CT scan and other medical miracles
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
Ciau, Bruno:
Getting treated by an Aboriginal doctor in the Outback accompanied by music may be a unique and scary experience for your mates, but let me tell you that we have its counterpart in the US. Although we East Midtown New Yorkers are people of the Bedpan Alley, living next door to all kinds of medical miracles and the new tools that help our doctors achieve them, a personal exposure to such things as MRIs, CT scans and nuclear stress tests can also fill one's heart with forebodings.
MRI, the magnetic resonance imaging machine, is used to discover heart, cranium, spine, and abdominal and other problems by having a potent magnet generate a field some 10,000 times stronger than the natural magnetic emissions. The story is that magnetic "rays" realign certain hydrogen atoms in our tissues, and then FM-like radio broadcasts identify them, producing a highlighted picture of our bodies and enabling the visualization of both expected and unexpected features. The physician-reader can then identify the latter for the therapist who ordered the reading, and treatment can begin, if necessary.
MRIs are non-intrusive procedures, unlike conventional radiology and computed tomographic imaging (CT scan), which use potentially harmful x-rays to visualize. The MRI "slices" the body in narrow bands, which, when placed side-by-side, produce a contiguous picture, so my mentor explained. All very rational, not to worry.
Nevertheless, having an MRI done filled me with trepidation. The sarcophagus aspect, the idea of being rolled into this big fat white tomb, after relieving all pockets of metal objects, was daunting. Apparently the metal objects, which I shed, exposed, can create burns and other damage to the flesh. And then there are the dangerous items we have implanted in our bodies. According to the pre-test questionnaire I filled out, pacemakers appeared to be no-nos, as were defibrillators, aneurysm clips, ear implants, electric stimulators, infusion pumps, coils, catheters or wires in blood vessels, artificial limbs, joint replacements and heart valves, magnetic dental implants, IUDs, tissue expanders for future implants, and tattooed eyeliners (popular in the 1970s, they used mercury, I was told). One is left with wonderment about how bionic we have become. Fortunately, dental fillings ate okay; else we'd all be ineligible.
The reading of the precautions had sort of eased my mind, as I entered to the MRI room. There, stretching down on a gurney, stuffing my ears with plugs and having my head anchored down with Scotch tape to inhibit movement, seemed de rigueur. The technician told me to close my eyes during roll-in and watch the mirror that let me see people were around. The whole experience, recording my cranium in some nine slices would take 20 minutes Then the procedure began, a musical event, I wish I had known enough to bring a tape recorder with me.
First, three taps on metal, followed by a further drumming sequence. Then, a buzz-saw, in several modalities, and a rhythmic blower sound, also varying in tone, with added instruments, then, blissfully, a sound like the beach, with waves rolling in. But not for long, the gurney moved an inch or two, and the sequence repeated itself, more or less. I was settling down to euphoria, but it was not to be. This time, several six-knock sequences were interchanged with six or more toots of the blower, about 20 times. The next sequences were also variations of the original, but with enough mystery to be interesting. and entertaining, believe it or not. I began discovering and superimposing a house music rhythm to the stream of sounds, sort of rhythm heard at weddings after the old-timers have left the floor and the young crowd takes over. The whacky sequences of drills, whips, sirens, saws, steam pipes and whirrs was overwhelmingly interesting, to the point of almost making me wish for more. But it was over, after nine or ten slices. Perhaps someone younger or less scared of the outcome or more adventuresome will record it, superimpose it to a cut or two and generate a piece of techno-rock. Good luck, and send me a CD.
As to the outcome, no fear, mate. They say a few tiny blood vessels have dried up in the cerebellum, all age appropriate, which explains why I sometimes address people as "buddy" and "sweets," until the names surface, a minute or two later, but so be it. The CT scan shows no problem, maybe a chronic sinus infection, New York appropriate. Trot on the nuclear stress test, I'm ready.
Bruno Birzenieks is the writer's high school mate, a retired Australian executive living in Melbourne.
Ciau, Bruno:
Getting treated by an Aboriginal doctor in the Outback accompanied by music may be a unique and scary experience for your mates, but let me tell you that we have its counterpart in the US. Although we East Midtown New Yorkers are people of the Bedpan Alley, living next door to all kinds of medical miracles and the new tools that help our doctors achieve them, a personal exposure to such things as MRIs, CT scans and nuclear stress tests can also fill one's heart with forebodings.
MRI, the magnetic resonance imaging machine, is used to discover heart, cranium, spine, and abdominal and other problems by having a potent magnet generate a field some 10,000 times stronger than the natural magnetic emissions. The story is that magnetic "rays" realign certain hydrogen atoms in our tissues, and then FM-like radio broadcasts identify them, producing a highlighted picture of our bodies and enabling the visualization of both expected and unexpected features. The physician-reader can then identify the latter for the therapist who ordered the reading, and treatment can begin, if necessary.
MRIs are non-intrusive procedures, unlike conventional radiology and computed tomographic imaging (CT scan), which use potentially harmful x-rays to visualize. The MRI "slices" the body in narrow bands, which, when placed side-by-side, produce a contiguous picture, so my mentor explained. All very rational, not to worry.
Nevertheless, having an MRI done filled me with trepidation. The sarcophagus aspect, the idea of being rolled into this big fat white tomb, after relieving all pockets of metal objects, was daunting. Apparently the metal objects, which I shed, exposed, can create burns and other damage to the flesh. And then there are the dangerous items we have implanted in our bodies. According to the pre-test questionnaire I filled out, pacemakers appeared to be no-nos, as were defibrillators, aneurysm clips, ear implants, electric stimulators, infusion pumps, coils, catheters or wires in blood vessels, artificial limbs, joint replacements and heart valves, magnetic dental implants, IUDs, tissue expanders for future implants, and tattooed eyeliners (popular in the 1970s, they used mercury, I was told). One is left with wonderment about how bionic we have become. Fortunately, dental fillings ate okay; else we'd all be ineligible.
The reading of the precautions had sort of eased my mind, as I entered to the MRI room. There, stretching down on a gurney, stuffing my ears with plugs and having my head anchored down with Scotch tape to inhibit movement, seemed de rigueur. The technician told me to close my eyes during roll-in and watch the mirror that let me see people were around. The whole experience, recording my cranium in some nine slices would take 20 minutes Then the procedure began, a musical event, I wish I had known enough to bring a tape recorder with me.
First, three taps on metal, followed by a further drumming sequence. Then, a buzz-saw, in several modalities, and a rhythmic blower sound, also varying in tone, with added instruments, then, blissfully, a sound like the beach, with waves rolling in. But not for long, the gurney moved an inch or two, and the sequence repeated itself, more or less. I was settling down to euphoria, but it was not to be. This time, several six-knock sequences were interchanged with six or more toots of the blower, about 20 times. The next sequences were also variations of the original, but with enough mystery to be interesting. and entertaining, believe it or not. I began discovering and superimposing a house music rhythm to the stream of sounds, sort of rhythm heard at weddings after the old-timers have left the floor and the young crowd takes over. The whacky sequences of drills, whips, sirens, saws, steam pipes and whirrs was overwhelmingly interesting, to the point of almost making me wish for more. But it was over, after nine or ten slices. Perhaps someone younger or less scared of the outcome or more adventuresome will record it, superimpose it to a cut or two and generate a piece of techno-rock. Good luck, and send me a CD.
As to the outcome, no fear, mate. They say a few tiny blood vessels have dried up in the cerebellum, all age appropriate, which explains why I sometimes address people as "buddy" and "sweets," until the names surface, a minute or two later, but so be it. The CT scan shows no problem, maybe a chronic sinus infection, New York appropriate. Trot on the nuclear stress test, I'm ready.
Bruno Birzenieks is the writer's high school mate, a retired Australian executive living in Melbourne.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
East 17 Street reminiscences at Thanksgiving
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
This mood of reminiscences was prompted by the season as well as by a fortuitous sequence of events.
Thanksgiving 2004 was an upbeat celebration, with the happy tone set on Wednesday, when we saw a revival performance of The Foreigner, the most cheerful of plays of the past decades, Larry Shue’s 1984 comedy about a shy visitor to Georgia, who pretends to be a non-English-speaking foreigner, and consequently learns many secrets and exposes some wicked plots. Shue, an actor and playwright, was an Army mate of one of our theatre guests.
In line for the opening of the Met store on Thursday at 8 AM, I ran into a an artist/photographer neighbor, Mel Adelglass, who was waiting for friends to go to Cape Cod for a Thanksgiving celebration, 5 ½ hours away. Mel, who usually owns six or seven cars – someone just gave him a small one – is a master of the alternate side parking game, maneuvering at leas one car around, while the rest stay in Vermont, free of parking and insurance worries.
Mel who works with Sy, a neighborhood collection agency owner, husband of Arlene, a friend from years of attending upstate antique shows, was also the neighbor of Steve Brown, a Realpolitik philosopher and habitué of Max’s Kansas City, always to be found there, throughout the 1960s, at the bar with new stories. The Old Curmudgeon and I suspected him to be a remittance man or a small trust beneficiary, paid to stay away from his native Baltimore. He worked, on and off, for Ray Jacobs of the negative heel Earth Shoe shop, just east of the Guardian Life Annex, now Zurich Insurance building, and for 16th Street gallery owner Bern Crystal, who was a member of the same family as Billy Crystal the actor (he did a documentary about his uncle) and Hilly Crystal the entrepreneur, of CBGB/OMFUG fame, whose W. 9th street restaurant and improvisation theatre venue, named The Third Wall, was a hangout of my youth.
Mel was also part of the 17h Street Historic District effort, spearheaded by Jack Taylor, when the owners of the “Washington Irving” building on corner 17th and Irving, and destroyed the original historic window, replacing it with a modern one. I saw jack fleetingly whizzing by, undoubtedly on an errand of preservation mercy, too fast to offer him our Thanksgiving wishes. Please accept these public amends.
Jack is also the treasurer and chief preservationist of SPNA, the Stuyvesant Park Neighborhood Association, whose president, Carol Schachter, in September was elected chair of the Community Board #6. Congrats, Carol! The Landmarks and Preservation Committee of CB6, chaired by Gary Papusch, recently heard the architect of the National Arts Club, a NYC landmark, offering the club’s plans for restoration of their façade. Good news. Another good news is that the eight-year struggle between the club and the trustees of Gramercy Park may be over, with the settlement of the lawsuit involving the Washington Irving High School kids.
This means that the only major neighborhood controversy is the Union Square Partnership’s (formerly BID/LDC) reconstruction of the Union Square North end, the world-famous Greenmarket area, Barry Benepe’s brainchild. There will be a Union Square Community Coalition-sponsored meeting on Dec 7, 7 PM, at the Seafarers (Irving and 15th).
One of the new GP trustees is Arlene Harrison, leader of the Gramercy Park Block Association, where Jack Taylor serves as the chair of the local history and landmarks preservation group, when he is not protecting the interests of our historic buildings before the Landmarks Preservation Commission. One of the commissioners is our own Dr. Thomas Pike, rector of the Calvary/St. George’s parish.
Jack is also affiliated with the Gramercy Neighborhood Associates, whose former leader, James Dougherty, also misses the passing of Max’s Kansas City (GNA’s lead preservationist is Fred Gorree). Another MKC habitué was the late Fielding Dawson, writer and graduate of Black Mountain College, who in the 1990s became active in Louse Dankberg’s Tilden Democratic Club.
Arlene is working with the 13th Precinct on community security matters. Its community officer, Scott Crimmins who a few years ago replaced the 20-year veteran Owen Hughes, most recently director of security at the Cabrini Hospital, is now leaving himself, with a letter of thanks from the Mayor and proclamations form our local representatives. I should check the status there with Jeanne Treague, head of the 13th Precinct Council, a longtime member of the SPNA and activist in the battle for the restoration of the park’s historic fence, led in the 1980s by Rosalee Isaly, then the group’s president, with the late Joe Roberto and Rex Wassermann.
These are the names that flowed through my mind during the holiday, as we reminisced with our guests, no doubt missing some terrific football games. But these are the people – at least some of them, there will be more names when I remind us of the homeless shelter season – who make our neighborhood what it is, the pride of the city and the envy of the nation.
This mood of reminiscences was prompted by the season as well as by a fortuitous sequence of events.
Thanksgiving 2004 was an upbeat celebration, with the happy tone set on Wednesday, when we saw a revival performance of The Foreigner, the most cheerful of plays of the past decades, Larry Shue’s 1984 comedy about a shy visitor to Georgia, who pretends to be a non-English-speaking foreigner, and consequently learns many secrets and exposes some wicked plots. Shue, an actor and playwright, was an Army mate of one of our theatre guests.
In line for the opening of the Met store on Thursday at 8 AM, I ran into a an artist/photographer neighbor, Mel Adelglass, who was waiting for friends to go to Cape Cod for a Thanksgiving celebration, 5 ½ hours away. Mel, who usually owns six or seven cars – someone just gave him a small one – is a master of the alternate side parking game, maneuvering at leas one car around, while the rest stay in Vermont, free of parking and insurance worries.
Mel who works with Sy, a neighborhood collection agency owner, husband of Arlene, a friend from years of attending upstate antique shows, was also the neighbor of Steve Brown, a Realpolitik philosopher and habitué of Max’s Kansas City, always to be found there, throughout the 1960s, at the bar with new stories. The Old Curmudgeon and I suspected him to be a remittance man or a small trust beneficiary, paid to stay away from his native Baltimore. He worked, on and off, for Ray Jacobs of the negative heel Earth Shoe shop, just east of the Guardian Life Annex, now Zurich Insurance building, and for 16th Street gallery owner Bern Crystal, who was a member of the same family as Billy Crystal the actor (he did a documentary about his uncle) and Hilly Crystal the entrepreneur, of CBGB/OMFUG fame, whose W. 9th street restaurant and improvisation theatre venue, named The Third Wall, was a hangout of my youth.
Mel was also part of the 17h Street Historic District effort, spearheaded by Jack Taylor, when the owners of the “Washington Irving” building on corner 17th and Irving, and destroyed the original historic window, replacing it with a modern one. I saw jack fleetingly whizzing by, undoubtedly on an errand of preservation mercy, too fast to offer him our Thanksgiving wishes. Please accept these public amends.
Jack is also the treasurer and chief preservationist of SPNA, the Stuyvesant Park Neighborhood Association, whose president, Carol Schachter, in September was elected chair of the Community Board #6. Congrats, Carol! The Landmarks and Preservation Committee of CB6, chaired by Gary Papusch, recently heard the architect of the National Arts Club, a NYC landmark, offering the club’s plans for restoration of their façade. Good news. Another good news is that the eight-year struggle between the club and the trustees of Gramercy Park may be over, with the settlement of the lawsuit involving the Washington Irving High School kids.
This means that the only major neighborhood controversy is the Union Square Partnership’s (formerly BID/LDC) reconstruction of the Union Square North end, the world-famous Greenmarket area, Barry Benepe’s brainchild. There will be a Union Square Community Coalition-sponsored meeting on Dec 7, 7 PM, at the Seafarers (Irving and 15th).
One of the new GP trustees is Arlene Harrison, leader of the Gramercy Park Block Association, where Jack Taylor serves as the chair of the local history and landmarks preservation group, when he is not protecting the interests of our historic buildings before the Landmarks Preservation Commission. One of the commissioners is our own Dr. Thomas Pike, rector of the Calvary/St. George’s parish.
Jack is also affiliated with the Gramercy Neighborhood Associates, whose former leader, James Dougherty, also misses the passing of Max’s Kansas City (GNA’s lead preservationist is Fred Gorree). Another MKC habitué was the late Fielding Dawson, writer and graduate of Black Mountain College, who in the 1990s became active in Louse Dankberg’s Tilden Democratic Club.
Arlene is working with the 13th Precinct on community security matters. Its community officer, Scott Crimmins who a few years ago replaced the 20-year veteran Owen Hughes, most recently director of security at the Cabrini Hospital, is now leaving himself, with a letter of thanks from the Mayor and proclamations form our local representatives. I should check the status there with Jeanne Treague, head of the 13th Precinct Council, a longtime member of the SPNA and activist in the battle for the restoration of the park’s historic fence, led in the 1980s by Rosalee Isaly, then the group’s president, with the late Joe Roberto and Rex Wassermann.
These are the names that flowed through my mind during the holiday, as we reminisced with our guests, no doubt missing some terrific football games. But these are the people – at least some of them, there will be more names when I remind us of the homeless shelter season – who make our neighborhood what it is, the pride of the city and the envy of the nation.
Neighborhood reminiscences at Thanksgiving
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
This mood of reminiscences was prompted by the season as well as by a fortuitous sequence of events.
Thanksgiving 2004 was an upbeat celebration, with the happy tone set on Wednesday, when we saw a revival performance of The Foreigner, the most cheerful of plays of the past decades, Larry Shue’s 1984 comedy about a shy visitor to Georgia, who pretends to be a non-English-speaking foreigner, and consequently learns many secrets and exposes some wicked plots. Shue, an actor and playwright, was an Army mate of one of our theatre guests.
In line for the opening of the Met store on Thursday at 8 AM, I ran into a an artist/photographer neighbor, Mel Adelglass, who was waiting for friends to go to Cape Cod for a Thanksgiving celebration, 5 ½ hours away. Mel, who usually owns six or seven cars – someone just gave him a small one – is a master of the alternate side parking game, maneuvering at leas one car around, while the rest stay in Vermont, free of parking and insurance worries.
Mel who works with Sy, a neighborhood collection agency owner, husband of Arlene, a friend from years of attending upstate antique shows, was also the neighbor of Steve Brown, a Realpolitik philosopher and habitué of Max’s Kansas City, always to be found there, throughout the 1960s, at the bar with new stories. The Old Curmudgeon and I suspected him to be a remittance man or a small trust beneficiary, paid to stay away from his native Baltimore. He worked, on and off, for Ray Jacobs of the negative heel Earth Shoe shop, just east of the Guardian Life Annex, now Zurich Insurance building, and for 16th Street gallery owner Bern Crystal, who was a member of the same family as Billy Crystal the actor (he did a documentary about his uncle) and Hilly Crystal the entrepreneur, of CBGB/OMFUG fame, whose W. 9th street restaurant and improvisation theatre venue, named The Third Wall, was a hangout of my youth.
Mel was also part of the 17h Street Historic District effort, spearheaded by Jack Taylor, when the owners of the “Washington Irving” building on corner 17th and Irving, and destroyed the original historic window, replacing it with a modern one. I saw jack fleetingly whizzing by, undoubtedly on an errand of preservation mercy, too fast to offer him our Thanksgiving wishes. Please accept these public amends.
Jack is also the treasurer and chief preservationist of SPNA, the Stuyvesant Park Neighborhood Association, whose president, Carol Schachter, in September was elected chair of the Community Board #6. Congrats, Carol! The Landmarks and Preservation Committee of CB6, chaired by Gary Papusch, recently heard the architect of the National Arts Club, a NYC landmark, offering the club’s plans for restoration of their façade. Good news. Another good news is that the eight-year struggle between the club and the trustees of Gramercy Park may be over, with the settlement of the lawsuit involving the Washington Irving High School kids.
This means that the only major neighborhood controversy is the Union Square Partnership’s (formerly BID/LDC) reconstruction of the Union Square North end, the world-famous Greenmarket area, Barry Benepe’s brainchild. There will be a Union Square Community Coalition-sponsored meeting on Dec 7, 7 PM, at the Seafarers (Irving and 15th).
One of the new GP trustees is Arlene Harrison, leader of the Gramercy Park Block Association, where Jack Taylor serves as the chair of the local history and landmarks preservation group, when he is not protecting the interests of our historic buildings before the Landmarks Preservation Commission. One of the commissioners is our own Dr. Thomas Pike, rector of the Calvary/St. George’s parish.
Jack is also affiliated with the Gramercy Neighborhood Associates, whose former leader, James Dougherty, also misses the passing of Max’s Kansas City (GNA’s lead preservationist is Fred Gorree). Another MKC habitué was the late Fielding Dawson, writer and graduate of Black Mountain College, who in the 1990s became active in Louse Dankberg’s Tilden Democratic Club.
Arlene is working with the 13th Precinct on community security matters. Its community officer, Scott Crimmins who a few years ago replaced the 20-year veteran Owen Hughes, most recently director of security at the Cabrini Hospital, is now leaving himself, with a letter of thanks from the Mayor and proclamations form our local representatives. I should check the status there with Jeanne Treague, head of the 13th Precinct Council, a longtime member of the SPNA and activist in the battle for the restoration of the park’s historic fence, led in the 1980s by Rosalee Isaly, then the group’s president, with the late Joe Roberto and Rex Wassermann.
These are the names that flowed through my mind during the holiday, as we reminisced with our guests, no doubt missing some terrific football games. But these are the people – at least some of them, there will be more names when I remind us of the homeless shelter season – who make our neighborhood what it is, the pride of the city and the envy of the nation.
This mood of reminiscences was prompted by the season as well as by a fortuitous sequence of events.
Thanksgiving 2004 was an upbeat celebration, with the happy tone set on Wednesday, when we saw a revival performance of The Foreigner, the most cheerful of plays of the past decades, Larry Shue’s 1984 comedy about a shy visitor to Georgia, who pretends to be a non-English-speaking foreigner, and consequently learns many secrets and exposes some wicked plots. Shue, an actor and playwright, was an Army mate of one of our theatre guests.
In line for the opening of the Met store on Thursday at 8 AM, I ran into a an artist/photographer neighbor, Mel Adelglass, who was waiting for friends to go to Cape Cod for a Thanksgiving celebration, 5 ½ hours away. Mel, who usually owns six or seven cars – someone just gave him a small one – is a master of the alternate side parking game, maneuvering at leas one car around, while the rest stay in Vermont, free of parking and insurance worries.
Mel who works with Sy, a neighborhood collection agency owner, husband of Arlene, a friend from years of attending upstate antique shows, was also the neighbor of Steve Brown, a Realpolitik philosopher and habitué of Max’s Kansas City, always to be found there, throughout the 1960s, at the bar with new stories. The Old Curmudgeon and I suspected him to be a remittance man or a small trust beneficiary, paid to stay away from his native Baltimore. He worked, on and off, for Ray Jacobs of the negative heel Earth Shoe shop, just east of the Guardian Life Annex, now Zurich Insurance building, and for 16th Street gallery owner Bern Crystal, who was a member of the same family as Billy Crystal the actor (he did a documentary about his uncle) and Hilly Crystal the entrepreneur, of CBGB/OMFUG fame, whose W. 9th street restaurant and improvisation theatre venue, named The Third Wall, was a hangout of my youth.
Mel was also part of the 17h Street Historic District effort, spearheaded by Jack Taylor, when the owners of the “Washington Irving” building on corner 17th and Irving, and destroyed the original historic window, replacing it with a modern one. I saw jack fleetingly whizzing by, undoubtedly on an errand of preservation mercy, too fast to offer him our Thanksgiving wishes. Please accept these public amends.
Jack is also the treasurer and chief preservationist of SPNA, the Stuyvesant Park Neighborhood Association, whose president, Carol Schachter, in September was elected chair of the Community Board #6. Congrats, Carol! The Landmarks and Preservation Committee of CB6, chaired by Gary Papusch, recently heard the architect of the National Arts Club, a NYC landmark, offering the club’s plans for restoration of their façade. Good news. Another good news is that the eight-year struggle between the club and the trustees of Gramercy Park may be over, with the settlement of the lawsuit involving the Washington Irving High School kids.
This means that the only major neighborhood controversy is the Union Square Partnership’s (formerly BID/LDC) reconstruction of the Union Square North end, the world-famous Greenmarket area, Barry Benepe’s brainchild. There will be a Union Square Community Coalition-sponsored meeting on Dec 7, 7 PM, at the Seafarers (Irving and 15th).
One of the new GP trustees is Arlene Harrison, leader of the Gramercy Park Block Association, where Jack Taylor serves as the chair of the local history and landmarks preservation group, when he is not protecting the interests of our historic buildings before the Landmarks Preservation Commission. One of the commissioners is our own Dr. Thomas Pike, rector of the Calvary/St. George’s parish.
Jack is also affiliated with the Gramercy Neighborhood Associates, whose former leader, James Dougherty, also misses the passing of Max’s Kansas City (GNA’s lead preservationist is Fred Gorree). Another MKC habitué was the late Fielding Dawson, writer and graduate of Black Mountain College, who in the 1990s became active in Louse Dankberg’s Tilden Democratic Club.
Arlene is working with the 13th Precinct on community security matters. Its community officer, Scott Crimmins who a few years ago replaced the 20-year veteran Owen Hughes, most recently director of security at the Cabrini Hospital, is now leaving himself, with a letter of thanks from the Mayor and proclamations form our local representatives. I should check the status there with Jeanne Treague, head of the 13th Precinct Council, a longtime member of the SPNA and activist in the battle for the restoration of the park’s historic fence, led in the 1980s by Rosalee Isaly, then the group’s president, with the late Joe Roberto and Rex Wassermann.
These are the names that flowed through my mind during the holiday, as we reminisced with our guests, no doubt missing some terrific football games. But these are the people – at least some of them, there will be more names when I remind us of the homeless shelter season – who make our neighborhood what it is, the pride of the city and the envy of the nation.
