By Caitlin Hawke

Today, Monday, June 21st, Make Music NY rings in its 15th year celebrating the Summer Solstice with music across the five boroughs.  For Upper West Siders, this means you have three outdoor 'venues' to choose from including West 103rd Street and Broadway where the music is on tap all afternoon and into the evening. Also, in the nearby West 104th Street Garden at 8 W. 104th Street, you can catch my personal favorite, the Ukuladies at 5 PM.

I always love the long days of June leading up to the solstice, officially ringing in summer. After the year we've had, we deserve a little dancing in the streets and a glorious 'estivus for the rest of us' celebration.

Enjoy!  Here's where:

Richard Tucker Park - 65th - 66th Streets, between Broadway And Columbus 

• 6:30 PM - 7:30 PM: New York Mandolin Orchestra

West 103rd Street Open Streets Community Coalition - 230 W. 103rd Street at Broadway

• 2:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Chamber Music Center of New York
• 4:00 PM - 5:00 PM:  Esther Crow
• 5:00 PM - 7:00 PM: Jean Ramirez

West 104th Street Garden - 8 West 104 Street  

• 5:00 PM - 6:00 PM: SoHarmoniums featuring the Ukuladies
• 6:00 PM - 7:00 PM: Socially Distant Mini-Orchestra
• 7:00 PM - 8:00 PM: Ethan Mann Trio

 
Click on the image below for the full NYC listing of showtimes today.

 By Caitlin Hawke

It is a very rare pleasure to meet people like Asya and Ted Berger whose zest for community and sense of history and rootedness in Bloomingdale are as strong as ever. At the March 2021 Block Association meeting, which due to the pandemic, was held virtually, Asya and Ted gave a loving talk about the early days of their lives on W. 103rd Street and the community members -- some larger than life -- who came together to build this association. It was so well received, that we caught up one recent weekend and recorded it for the blog. And so, it is my pleasure to give you this recording of Asya and Ted reprising their slideshow and remembrances.  For those of you reading in an email subscription to the blog, click on this link for the embedded video. For those of you who prefer to read, scroll down for the transcript and images.

The Bergers have the gift of making even newcomers nostalgic for a freewheeling time when lives were lived on stoops, chatting up neighbors, and in basements planning for big events with a sole purpose of weaving the fabric of a community.

The Block Association is 50, and you can show your love by making a contribution here.

Enjoy this trip down Bloomingdale's Memory Lane!  And remember, if you cannot see the video, click here or scroll down for a transcribed version of their live presentation.

On the Streets Where We Live by Asya and Ted Berger
​

TED: We’re so grateful to the Block Association and to Ginger Lief, our great neighborhood resource, for asking us to talk a bit about its early years. We also want to thank Bob Aaronson, Nancy Gropper, and Caitlin Hawke for their technical help in preparing and helping us show some pictures with this talk.

Thinking about these years is somewhat like starting a Proustian Journey. It’s like eating a madeleine and remembering things past. It’s hard to believe it’s been fifty years since a founding group had the smarts and vision to get the Block Association going. 

Please forgive us if, as we reminisce, we haven’t given equal time to both 102nd and 103rd St. or West End. We suspect we’ve thought a bit more about 103rd St. because that’s where we live.   Forgive us as well if we don’t mention all the people and events we know we should, and we apologize if we get any facts and names wrong.  (After all, we’re not historians – and at this stage in our lives, we’re lucky we remembered to show up today!) 

We also regret we’ll probably be reading too much, but my tech skills leave much to be desired, and I couldn’t figure out how to turn the computer into a teleprompter.

Also, we apologize for the quality of many very old photographs.  I’m not much of a photographer either.

As Asya and I thought about all the years on these streets where we’ve been fortunate to live so long,  we’ve been flooded with memories of some of the dearest people we have ever known. To us, this trip down memory lane is not only the story of these streets; it’s the story of people –and  how people can effect change and, most especially, how our friendships turned to love and will be forever with us.

We’ve lived on 103rd St. for nearly 57 years. 

Right after we were married, we moved to 103rd  St. in the fall, 1964 – first  renting at 305; then, in 1971, we moved next door to 303  –renting first  the ground floor floor-through; then, when we purchased the building with another couple in ’74, creating the duplex where we still live with our current upstairs neighbors, Peter Frischauf and KC Rice, who in 1982 bought their share from our original partners.  As you may know, Peter and KC have worked hard on the 103rd St, Open Street Project and the recent terrific celebration of Earth Day. 

ASYA: When we lived at 305, one day we were fortunate to meet a neighbor, our beloved Donna Lavine, who lived with her husband Mel in the floor-through next door, where we now live. Little did we know then – on the day we met Donna – how our lives would forever change, how her friendly “hello” destined us to become “family.”

Donna and Mel had moved to the block a few years earlier when he attended Columbia’s Journalism School.  He then became a producer on the Today Show.  Donna soon introduced us to another couple in the neighborhood, Len and Cherie Tredanari, who had moved to the block in 1954 with their two children, Adriana and Gregory. A few years later, they bought the brownstone at 307 W. 103rd.  ​

We all became very close friends. Ted and I were a bit younger than the four of them, and we all really connected.  Len and Cherie seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood.  They had been involved in an earlier effort with neighbors to get a playground built in Riverside Park between 104th and 105th Sts.  They understood the need for do-it-yourself, grassroots organizing and advocacy if you wanted to effect change in the neighborhood in those days.

TED: If you know anything about the history of NYC in the 60’s and 70’s, you may know that West Side was then very different from what it has become.  The setting for the musical “West Side Story” is where Lincoln Center is now. What is now known as the Lincoln Square neighborhood was formerly  San Juan Hill.  The construction of Lincoln Center was an urban renewal project spearheaded by Robert Moses.

Left to right above: The San Juan Hill Neighborhood-West 63rd St.
The "West Side Story,"
​"Something's Coming..."

When I was a graduate student at Columbia in those days, the Park at 72nd and Broadway was known as “Needle Park.” You may have heard of the film, “Panic in Needle Park.”   The Upper West Side had a reputation of being more like the Wild West when it came to safety. Many blocks and buildings were astoundingly beautiful and very stable; others somewhat dicey.  However,  it was also very affordable.  Our first apartment in the brownstone at 303 W. 103 was $110/month.
 
102nd and 103rd  were really beautiful streets.  Tree-lined, anchored by large apartment buildings at the corners, such as the well-known landmarked Master Apartments and the Candela buildings at 865 and 875 West End.  Brownstones were in-between; many – like our row of brownstones where we live, built in 1895. The subway and the Park were nearby.  We all knew we lived in a special neighborhood, yet we were very much aware we were in the midst of an economically challenged city at the time, with growing crime, racial tensions, and an increasing decline in the general quality of life. 

But we really loved the neighborhood!

Technically, Asya and I are not actual founders of the Block Association. Before we became involved, a few neighborhood veterans started meeting and decided, if the neighborhood was going to thrive, the formation of a block association was needed. And so in 1971, the 102nd-103rd Block Association came into being.

The first issue of the newsletter reads: “From small beginnings, great things grow.  Little more than an idea two months ago, the 102nd-103rd Street Block Association has become a reality.

Originally planned to meet the common need and interests of the people living between Broadway and Riverside Drive and West End Ave, between 102nd and 103rd Streets, the association’s steering committee voted to include 102nd St. The interest expressed by the residents of 102nd St. have been overwhelming and pooling our resources will certainly strengthen the association.”

Existing Committees at that time were formed:  Social Committee, Ecology, Safety, Housing, General Membership. The first Co-Chairs were Carol Goldstein and Ed Warner.
 
We found the above article in the archives of the Block Association’s newsletters (thanks to Ginger Lief!), so we just want to take a moment to mention how the Block Association’s continuing publication of the newsletter – and now our website -  have been so vital to our sense of community all these years.  We salute all the editors and writers throughout the years who’ve kept up the communication, letting us know what we need to know about each other and our blocks .  We especially want to thank our present newsletter group, now spearheaded by Hedy Campbell.

ASYA: But back to the start –

One of the newly formed Block Association’s first victories came in the Fall, 1971 when 11 new trash baskets were placed on all the street corners.  Of course, chains had to be attached to discourage stealing.

Because of  the common concerns about safety, one of the Block Association’s primary goals was to raise money to hire a  security guard for the area. Similarly, in these years, much effort went into raising money to get better lighting in the area.

We want to highlight some events in these early years which brought attention to our blocks and became cornerstones of some of our present activities.  

A few years after the Block Association started, a prime strategy emerged to both bring people together and to raise money for the block association’s commitment to guard service - the development of our first ever block party.  In those days, block parties and street fairs were not as common as they now are. 

After a number of block parties were held, a group of us decided we needed to make an even greater impact. We were determined that our block parties should be something people would remember.  We recall forming a Planning Committee of the Block Association, including Len and Cherie Tredanari, Ginger Lief,  Jennes Eertmoed,  Joe Hussey, John and Liz Berseth,  Edna Guttag, Gertrude Ellis, and the two of us.  

TED: Organizing these block parties became a great community-building effort spearheaded by board members  with other neighbors volunteering as we needed more help. We met frequently to deal with the many details of the event.  

The basement of our brownstone served as headquarters.  Week after week we created booths, painted signs under Cherie Tredanari’s artistic expertise; we  joked and laughed, and always shared a glass or two or three of Tred Red, the homemade red wine, Len Tredanari joyfully made in the cellar of their house at 307.  

Indeed, one of the most successful booths at every block party in those early years was the annual one in front of the Tred’s house. Using multiple grills, we grilled many, many Italian sausages with peppers and onions on rolls. As an extra bonus you could sample some Tred Red. Of course, this probably wasn’t legal, so naturally, there was always a long line waiting. We brought in a lot of money.

ASYA: One of our blocks’ major cultural assets at that time was the Equity Library Theater (ELT),  a showcase for acting and theater talent,  located in the auditorium of the Masters Institute since 1961 through its final season in 1989.  (In fact, one of our son’s first jobs was as an usher at the theater when he was 7 or 8.)

The Block Association began a collaboration with ELT for the next few years as we developed our Block Parties. One year we focused the block party on celebrating  George and Ira Gershwin who lived on 103rd St. near Riverside.  ELT organized an array of talent throughout the day to sing and play a great range of Gershwin songs.

The block party drew a large crowd.  People loved it.  We were a hit! And we made money too.  The Block Association’s reputation started to grow, for both people in the immediate neighborhood and for people in the surrounding area

TED: Here are some pictures from various block parties from 1977-1986.  ​

​

Besides the Gershwin-themed Block Party, we also remember another outstanding one, “Turn of the Century NY” where neighbors came in costume. 

Our block parties continued to bring in the revenue we needed. Moreover, they were important community events bringing us all closer. Admittedly, these were big productions that required a lot of volunteer effort.

There were some other Block Association program/fundraising highlights we remember in these early years.

In 1973, Fred Fried, who lived in 875 WEA, presented a slide lecture, “How the West Was Won.”  Fred, a Smithsonian Fellow and NY historian and author, told the history of the West Side from 1810 to the present.

In 1975, Gretchen Cryer, our neighborhood award-winning theater artist and writer who lives in 885 WEA, produced the “Best of the West.”  This musical showcase brought together celebrated performers in the neighborhood and on the West
Side for the benefit of the Block Association.

The Block Association also produced a successful Cookbook in the late 70’s, gathering recipes from residents in the area.

ASYA: Another equally important community-building event that started perhaps 40 years ago is our now famous Halloween Parade. Originally it was a small event so the kids in the neighborhood would have an opportunity to show off their costumes.  We seem to recall the Halloween Parade was Cherie Tredanari’s brainchild. A few tables were set up on WEA between 875 and 865; members of the block association board handed out doughnuts and apples. The kids then circled around showing off their costumes.  Everyone in costume won a prize.  

Over the years, as the number of kids grew larger and larger, it was a challenge for the judges to have enough categories so that every child could be recognized. As the event grew, more apples and doughnuts were needed; people agreed to bake cakes and cookies.  Cherie and I spearheaded a crew to assemble packages of treats long before the event itself. Then, along with others such as Mildred Speiser, we sat at a long table, distributing the treats so everyone came away with something.
​

.As we all know, our Halloween Parade has become one of the signature events of the Block Association. Eventually  102nd St. was blocked off so more people could mingle and assemble before and after the parade.

TED: As you may have gathered, our beloved friends,  Len and Cherie, were mainstays of our neighborhood.  Len, who liked to think of himself as the Mayor of 103rd St., knew everyone.  Cherie adored this neighborhood and took enormous pride in what she and Len had done to make this area more liveable and friendly.  The day her sculpture was installed on the median strip at 106th and Broadway, where it still remains, may have been one of the proudest days of her life.  How appropriate it is that with the Block Association’s leadership, a memorial bench on the upper level of Riverside Park near 103rd St., overlooking our streets, was dedicated in their honor in recognition for all they did for all of us. The plaque below reads, "Len and Cherie Tredanari – For what they gave our neighborhood…They love life, family, friends, food, wine, art, and this park --- Always, Our Treds."

ASYA: During these beginning years of our Block Association, other block associations started to form on the Upper West Side.  Soon we were all starting to talk to one another about common issues.  As a result, the first steps were taken to form the area Coalition of Block Associations above 96th St. We discovered the name “Bloomingdale District” was used to refer to part of the Upper West Side – from 96th St. to 110th St and bounded on the east by Amsterdam Ave. and Riverside Drive.  Its name was a variation of the description given to the area by the Dutch settlers, likely “Bloemendaal,” a town in the tulip region.
Accordingly, the Coalition was named the Bloomingdale Area Coalition, and we started getting more attention from elected officials, city agencies, and the police precinct.

As indicated earlier, in the early 70’s when the Block Association was formed, certain streets were really rough.  The lower part of 103rd St,, between West End and Broadway, then had two of the worst SRO’s (Single Room Occupancy) buildings in the city.  The past glory of the Marseilles Hotel had deteriorated significantly and parts of it burned-out. The Alexandria had become a haven for drug dealing and crime.  

The Block Association was determined to do something about this.  Accordingly, when we learned that the West Side Federation for Senior Housing (WSFSH) might possibly be interested in developing the Marseilles into senior housing, we decided to try to help to make this happen.  WSFSH needed funds to engage legal support for this transition.  Accordingly,  the Block Association committed itself to a grassroots fundraising campaign to help.  We organized teams of people to be at the subway each morning and evening asking for donations towards this effort. People also did this going door to door in their apartment buildings. The funds raised and the support of the Block Association were vital to the eventual successful transformation of the Marseilles.

Another partnership which has had a significant impact on the Block Association developed when the Lynwood Nursing Home on 102nd St. was sold to become the Saint Luke’s Halfway House which opened in 1974.  Initial nervousness soon abated as the Block Association and the Halfway House worked hard to strengthen our relationship and collaborations. Residents at Saint Lukes have been supportive throughout the years of many of our Block Association events.

TED: Over these 50 years the Block Association has been a constant, despite the transition of many buildings  from rental apartments to coops, despite the many changes that happened in our neighborhood, despite how often the streetscape on Broadway has changed! 

When we first came to the neighborhood, on the northwest corner of 103rd St., for example, Mr. Abolafia had a wonderful flower stand there for many years.  Directly across the street, where Subway used to be and where the Purple Circle Nursery School will soon be, there was a coffee shop, the Red Chimney.  Where Janovic’s was until recently, there used to be Lamston’s, our local five and dime store that sold everything.  On the West Broadway block between 102nd and 103rd,  there was a Chinese restaurant, the Harbin Inn. Some of you may recall the fact that the Tredanari’s son, Gregory, opened a cheese and pasta store and restaurant where Café du Soleil is now located.  

On the east side of Broadway between 103rd and 104th was the Edison Theater, a movie theater built in 1913, where for most of its life it  showed second and third run double bills, occasionally first runs.  In the late 60’s it showed films with Spanish subtitles, then all Spanish films.  It was eventually demolished to build the new apartment building there.  On the same block,  at the southeast corner of Broadway and 104th St., now the location of City MD, is  one of the extraordinary architectural treasures of our area, a former Horn and Hardart Automat which closed in 1953 and was declared a NYC Landmark in 2007. The building’s fanciful Art Deco ornamentation was covered over for many years until it was uncovered when City MD moved in.

Broadway certainly changed, but the sense of community strengthened in large part because of the Block Association.   It’s been like our own grassroots government, helping  to make this area often seem like a small town. 

We love knowing that Humphrey Bogart and George Gershwin and the award-winning composer, Charles Wuorinen  lived in this area!  We take pride that Norman Rockwell lived nearby, on 103rd St., east of Broadway.

But we especially value the Block Association because it’s always thinking about our blocks’ past, present, and future. We love knowing the architectural history of the buildings surrounding us, but we appreciate the Block Association is making sure our streetlamps are working so we can see our buildings.  We cherish the many ways the Block Association brings us together.  Our continuing Block Parties remain important community events and revenue generators – and yes, they always require a lot of work to organize them!

Besides the Halloween Parade, another signature event has become the Holiday Caroling.  For nearly 40 years Anthony Belov has magnificently led with skill and style our Block annual Winter Solstice Caroling, bringing good holiday cheer and the spirit of small-town life to our neighborhood.  Annually, we also celebrate our own Rite of Spring, with our own tree-well plantings, reminding us all of the beauty of nature and the importance of our trees.   All of these activities shape our sense of community, helping strangers become neighbors and friends, even extended family.  

ASYA: From the start we wanted our Block Association to be something special.  How grateful we all are that it still remains so! It is the spirit of this community that has always made it something special!  

Thanks to all the people over the years who have led the organization for all of us – and thanks to the many, many people  who, under their leadership,  have generously volunteered their time and energy, creativity, and support which have allowed us to get to this special anniversary moment.

TED: One of my favorite books about New York is EB White’s New York.  In it, he says:

“One of the oft-quoted thumbnail sketch of New York is, of course: “It’s a wonderful place, but I’d hate to live there.” I have an idea that people from villages and small towns, people accustomed to the convenience and the friendliness of neighborhood over-the-fence living, are unaware that life in New York follows the neighborhood pattern.  The city is literally a composite of tens of thousands of neighborhood units.  There are, of course, the big districts and big units: Chelsea and Murray Hill and Gramercy (which are residential units), Harlem.., Greenwich Village.., and there is Radio City, Peter Cooper Village, the Medical Center..,and many other sections each of which has some distinguishing characteristic.  But the curious thing about New York is that each large geographical unit is composed of countless small neighborhoods.  Each neighborhood is virtually self-sufficient,  usually it is no more than two or three blocks long and a couple of blocks wide.  Each area is a city within a city within a city.”

No matter where you live in New York, generally you’ll find within a block or two or three,  a self-contained city – more or less – with its grocery store, newsstand, cleaners, laundry, deli, flower shop, shoe repair, etc. – because there’s a critical mass who need such services.

Yes, we do live in an extraordinary neighborhood- Yes, it is like a small town.

Thanks for our 102nd and 103rd St. Block Association for these 50 years! Despite all the changes we’ve seen and lived through in this area, we’ve all been woven into the history and tapestry of these blocks, this Bloomingdale area, and the ever-changing magnificent fabric of this great city we think of as “home.

And, as we all know, there really is no place like home!

And so, we raise a glass of – you guessed it! – Tred Red!- still lovingly made by the Tredanari Family.

ASYA: We salute those who started this Block Association.

We celebrate everyone who has worked so hard to help it flourish. We thank all those have contributed their generosity of coin, time, and spirit to keep it going.

We pass on with pride and honor the legacy of these 50 years of the 102nd and 103rd St Block Association to all those who will follow us in this neighborhood and shape its future.

Thank you all.  There really is no place like home!

By Caitlin Hawke

Perhaps you've noticed the new sign at right which sits at the corner of W. 103rd Street and Broadway: "Room to Move! Open Streets." Or maybe you joined in the 2021 Earth Day events above.

To quote my favorite octogenerian: "Something is happening here but you don't know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?"  Well here's a chance to come find out more. For an open discussion on this NYC designation of W. 103rd Street, join our next meeting on June 15. Below are further details from the board of directors about this Q&A with neighbor Peter Frishauf.

By Caitlin Hawke

​Impossible to let the moment pass without a gentle nod to Bob Dylan, born 80 years ago today. 

There are celebratory events around the world including one aptly held in Washington Square Park this afternoon depicted at right.  There’s also the soon-to-conclude three-day international symposium that’s streaming straight out of Tulsa where the new Bob Dylan Center will be inaugurated next May right beside the Woody Guthrie Center.

The guy is as vital as ever, but his so-called Never Ending Tour is now starting to feel like a never-ending hiatus. His last concert performance took place on December 6, 2019, during what had become an annual residency at the Beacon. We all know what happened next.

Covid hit our city and our social isolation began.

At the height of anxieties in NYC on March 26, 2020, at midnight, Dylan let slip into the ether a gift: a note with a new, original track. Tongues started wagging about rumors of a new album. A man of excruciatingly few public words, his uncharacteristic note said: “This is an unreleased song we recorded a while back that you might find interesting. Stay safe, stay observant and may God be with you.”  Here we were in a free fall, a time when screaming ambulances were the ghostly punctuation on as pure and extended a silence as I’ve ever heard in this city.  And Dylan thought we might find his song interesting. And he told us to pay attention.

It was like a fist bump and a prophecy rolled into one. He got my attention.

The stunning track was the instantly-famous JFK dirge, "Murder Most Foul." Two weeks later, it reached the No. 1 position on the Billboard chart, a first-ever for the then 79-year-old Dylan. 

Like the ghost in Hamlet, this simple ballad had truths to reveal: not merely about JFK’s assassination but also about the American decline it set in motion and about the power of culture to both buoy us and to steal our attention from the real work we must attend to. The stripped down 17-minute epic is like a bell ringing out a warning across time. And when Covid hit, Dylan himself recognized that the unforeseeable plague and its utter mismanagement actually rhymed with his song. So he hurried the track out to a captive audience, leaving everyone anticipating a new album.

But before the album released in June, the country was sucker-punched. One year ago tomorrow, the brutal murder of 46-year-old George Floyd by Derek Chauvin seared our eyes and galvanized the Black Lives Matter movement.

Immediately, it became impossible to dissociate these past and present cataclysms: of JFK, of the plummeting American Democracy, of the pandemic, and of police brutality and racism. It falls to bards and philosophers to reveal the through line. And Bob Dylan did that twice in 2020, once knowingly when he offered the gift of the song to make sense of Covid and the incompetent politics around it. And once unknowingly when his song presaged George Floyd’s death.

But to be fair, it wasn't just this song. Dylan has been calling out racism and brutality for half a century.

As the pandemic abates, as the country mournfully acknowledges tomorrow’s anniversary of the despicable murder of George Floyd, as we find each other in our neighborhood to reboot, there is, for me, hope in the healing power of human creativity.

I am grateful for the decoder ring that is the body of Bob Dylan’s work to make sense of an endlessly confusing time. He’s been holding up his mirror to us for 60 years and we’d do well to have a look.
​

​May George Floyd long be remembered. May he rest in peace. 

​
​​

By Caitlin Hawke

It's possible that the post I made back in November 2018 about Bloomingdaler Estelle Parsons, The Triple Threat Living among Us, was the most read piece on this site. Ever.

After my deep dive into Civil War era actor Maggie Mitchell who built 855 West End Avenue (some of which you can read here and here), I've become attuned to just how many actors there are piled into our little slice of the Upper West Side. And how very few are working currently. And also to the optimistic thought of all the creativity that will pour forth from behind closed doors when our ordeal is done.

One local actor, Brian Stokes Mitchell, deserves a Bloomie for throwing up his sash every evening during the Covid crunch last spring to sing us back from the edge. High over Lenny's Bagels, he came to the window and belted out "The Impossible Dream" night in and night out, calling out to first responders who always had a front row "seat" in the downtown lanes of Broadway.

I'll never forget that cohesion of an admiring and grateful community massing below for the treat of a live performance, an upside down serenade at an inside out time.

With so many people this year who have lost work or worse, every person is a rich story of a year endured. And getting back to Estelle Parsons, when our paths crossed I wondered how she'd fared offstage and off camera these many months.

​So I asked for a chance to catch up with her via Zoom for Saturday morning coffee one winter beautiful day, and we taped it. Click here to view. The recording is not professional sound or image, but it captures a genuine conversation between neighbors, one of whom happens to have an Oscar to her name -- for her portrayal of Blanche Barrow in the 1967 Arthur Penn film "Bonnie and Clyde." 

Her career has toggled from small screen, to big screen, to stage, back to the small screen. And also to the director's chair: among other gigs, she served as artistic director of the Actors Studio for 15 years. Some morning TV fans may recall that she got her start on the Today Show or perhaps you think of her as Roseanne's mom from the show of the same name or from its successor show, "The Connors." I always think of how she tore the house down in Tracy Letts's play "August: Osage County." Just thinking about that play and the ensemble brings me hope of being back in a theater soon to experience that intensity again.

If you click through to the video of our conversation by clicking the link or photo above, you'll hear that this creative neighbor is only momentarily interrupted: she is moving projects along and will be ready to roll as soon as we are released from our limbo.

Enjoy!
​

By Caitlin Hawke

By now, blog readers may know that the great Civil War era actor Maggie Mitchell (1836-1918) built 855 West End Avenue in 1895, at the southwest corner of W. 102nd Street, with the considerable fortune she earned on the American stage.

Her signature role was the waif in the eponymous play "Fanchon, the Cricket" which debuted in 1861. It was based on George Sand's novel "La Petite Fadette." Maggie played in this role 1500 times from Boston to New Orleans, performing a showstopping shadow dance in the second act that beguiled her audiences, fueling her fame and making her a household name. She played for Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theatre and was subsequently invited to the White House. Men who fought on both sides of the Civil War wrote love letters to her, some of which are in a small collection at the New York Public Library. Her likeness was affixed to soap, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, a race horse, and a schooner. A waltz was written for her. And promising up-and-comers were referred to as the new Maggie Mitchell, such was her fame in America.

She acknowledged where her bread was buttered by naming her apartment house at 855 after the scene in the play that made her famous, The St. Andoche. She also placed an effigy of her character Fanchon above the entry. See more about the building's name here and for a photo of the effigy, see here.

In 1915, 50 years after the heyday of the play, Paramount's movie version finally appeared with Mary Pickford in the title role. Upon its release, one Newark paper said "Mary Pickford isn't Maggie Mitchell, so we of the former generation stoutly maintain, but she is altogether a delightful Fanchon––the wild creature of unregulated emotion, the capricious but altogether womanly little being who in the end finds that which satisfies the love hunger of her starving soul."

According to neighbor Gil Tauber, the Pickford film has been showing recently on Turner Classic Movies. It had been lost until a print was discovered in Paris and has since been restored by the Mary Pickford Foundation and the Cinémathèque Française.  From the Pickford Foundation website: "Collaborating over the course of six years with the Cinémathèque, the British Film Institute (which held an incomplete nitrate print) and the Immagine Ritrovata in Bologna, Italy, the Mary Pickford Foundation has brought the 1915 film back to the public."

For a taste of the restoration, click the Maypole image or video below.

Thanks to Jim Mackin's new book on notable Upper West Siders which you can read about in my piece in the West Side Rag, we know that Mary Pickford lived at 270 Riverside Drive (at 99th Street) just a few streets south of the building Maggie put up. And a tantalizing tidbit from Anthony Bellov (who I recently interviewed here about his research on architect Rosario Candela) is that Douglas Fairbanks Sr. and Mary Pickford supposedly had assignations at 858 West End Avenue (then owned by Fairbanks' friend Frederick Bertuch) as their affair took flight before they eventually married in 1920.

​That would put the two Fanchons of stage and screen directly across the street from each other if only for a moment and if before Maggie's death at 855 West End in 1918.

For a wonderful write up about 858 West End Ave, see the Daytonian in Manhattan blog.

By Caitlin Hawke

You may have heard about "Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan’s Upper West Side," neighbor Jim Mackin's recent book in which he chronicles nearly 600 Bloomingdale and Morningside Heights residents of "note". However 800 other individuals didn't make it into the book, so Jim created a database which you can explore here.

For vignettes about several of the people who made the cut, see the article I wrote in today's West Side Rag here.

Jim Mackin arrived on the Upper West Side in 1971, obtained an MBA at NYU, and worked as chief financial officer of a division of JP Morgan. It was there that Jim developed an interest in the histories of companies. Soon, inspired Peter Salwen’s Upper West Side Story, he became a diehard student of the history of New York City. 

After retiring in 2005, Jim realized he could marry his passion for fresh air, exercise and local history at the street level by giving tours which he dubbed “WeekdayWalks.” He is a licensed tour guide with distinction, meaning that he scored high on the licensing exam for which he didn’t have to study as knowledge of the city has really be a lifetime pursuit. 
​
Last week, in preparation for the WSR piece, I caught up with Jim to ask him more about the genesis of  project.

​Here are excerpts from that Q&A:

​Caitlin: What gave you the idea for “Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan’s Upper West Side”?
Jim: Preparing for my walking tours, I started collecting addresses of famous people in the news or from books that I read. Then I put them onto a spreadsheet with some notes. Soon I had a few hundred which grew to over a thousand. A friend gave me the idea that I actually had a book. Next, I wrote up short biographies that I thought would be entertaining, and I discovered that it was fun to research and to write.

Caitlin: How did you organize all that data and what tools did you use?
Jim: I used a simple spreadsheet, which beyond the obvious details -- name, profession, dates, addresses -- included four designations: superstar, plaque-worthy, needs to be better appreciated, and especially interesting. These designations were invaluable in deciding which of my 1400+ notables should be included in the book so that it would be a reasonable size. Primarily, I used the internet, New York Times archives, and Ancestry.com. I also read books – a lot – usually from the New York Society Library.

Caitlin: What do you consider your greatest "finds" for this book? 
Jim: Amelia Earhart for just being in the neighborhood and the difficult Barnard situation endured by Harriet Brooks, the first U.S. female nuclear physicist, who worked with Ernest Rutherford and Marie Curie.

Caitlin: True story. Did you happen to dig out the nugget that Hunter S. Thompson lived on Morningside Drive for a short time? An air force buddy, he lived for a time in 1957-58 with my father at 110 Morningside Drive.
Jim: Didn’t know…thanks for this information. 

Caitlin: That's one more for the database! What you did was a huge and immersive undertaking. What fills your research time now that this book is out?
Jim: The Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group, of which I am one of ten, occupies most of my attention in NYC. As president of the Friends of Taconic State Park in Copake Falls, New York, we are preserving a historic iron works and building a narrow-gauge railroad attraction. I am also working on my second book that connects the family that built the Copake Iron Works and a very important person in NYC’s history.

Caitlin: If you had to live in another neighborhood, which one would you choose?
Jim: I have a very soft spot in my heart for Greenwich Village, where my wife Janet and I lived for half a year until we were kicked out of an illegal sublet. 

Caitlin: Great place to end – a typical New York story. Thank you.

By Caitlin Hawke

The Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group presents an online event this evening, February 16, at 5:30 p.m. featuring Jim Mackin, author of Notable New Yorkers of Manhattan's Upper West Side, and another local historian Matthew Spady, who has written recently about Audubon Park up near W. 158th Street. Yes, the park is named for that Audubon. Matthew's book is titled The Neighborhood Manhattan Forgot. The director of Fordham University Press, Fred Nachbaur, will moderate. All are welcome to view the livestream via the link posted here: www.upperwestsidehistory.org. The group puts on consistently terrific programs. I am sure this one will not disappoint. Hope you can make it!

  

By Caitlin Hawke

Happy New Year, neighbors. Have you ever in your life been happier to slam the door shut on a year?

There is always hope, anticipation, and refreshment in the embrace of a January first. We didn't have the crazy post-holiday hubbub to heighten the anticipation of NYE this year. And of course the Times Square situation was transformed by you-know-what. It's just different.

I chose this lovely NYC rooftop picture as the way to ring in 2021. Taken by neighbor Bill Altham a few years back, the image of a cozy snowfall, perhaps a day dawning -- perhaps waning -- the lights of neighboring apartments scintillating in the crisp winter duskiness, all conjure up the current interior lives of New Yorkers. The ones we've become intimately familiar with as we changed pace under Mother Nature's huge "STOP" sign.

It's a little Hopperesque in the way it telegraphs solitude. This year, we've all been there: seated near the window, looking out in the wee hours, searching for another being, breathing in masklessly from a safe perch, breathing out patiently asking for 'serenity now' as we motor through what was not conceivable to us one year ago today. Yet all the signs were there, and by January 1 of last year, our Annus covidus was foreordained.

It was a tremendously painful year. Our country has collectively decided not to dwell on the unquantifiable losses but to focus on the upbeat news of coming vaccinations. But I take homefield pride in how our neighborhood banded together: masking up, helping each other, supporting local businesses, dining out gamely come wind and rain, gratefully acknowledging essential workers, particularly at 7pm. I have profound respect for every worker in every shop, on every subway train, and on the frontlines. I have profound sorrow for and solidarity with every business owner struggling to make it to the pandemic's end. And respect for any landlord who has forgiven rent or worked with commercial tenants caught in the clutches of the insta-nightmare that befell us early last year.

Most poetic, most powerful, most beautiful, most lasting was how a state of illbeing -- catalyzed by the inequities of covid's toll -- helped power the voices of Black Lives Matter and woke us from our sleepwalk.

We have come to. We cannot go backwards again. We hold these truths to be self-evident.

Welcome to 2021, Bloomingdalers. May it find and keep you healthy. And may our elbow bumps soon transform into handshakes, hugs.

Credit: Bill Altham, 2015: Looking southward over West 104th Street toward Amsterdam Avenue

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By Caitlin Hawke

Here's a chance to show your Block Association some love. At our monthly meeting last week, Anthony Bellov gave his wonderful "Candela Corners" presentation about the embarrassment of Bloomingdale buildings designed by the "star" residential architect. I am sharing the recording below. If you are receiving this in your email subscription, click on the blog post title to view the video online or click here.

​Like most organizations and like everyone of us, the Block Association has felt the pinch of the pandemic.

If you haven't renewed your membership or if you are able to make a year-end contribution, here's a great occasion. Click here to donate in support of the Block Association, and then enjoy this wonderful tale and armchair tour featuring the magnificent architecture of Rosario Candela of the 1920s and 1930s.

And when you are done, if you missed my interview with Anthony yesterday, click here to read more.
​
With thanks to Anthony and with best wishes to you for the season of lights.

Thank you for reading! And don't forget to spread the Blove! There are lots of history and neighborhood tidbits to come.

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By Caitlin Hawke

If you missed Anthony Bellov's "Candela Corners" talk for the West 102nd-103rd Streets Block Association last week, fret no more. The recording will be posted here tomorrow for your viewing pleasure. Blog subscribers will have to click on the title of the blog to view the embedded video online.

In the meantime, I caught up with Anthony, a former Block Association board member and longtime neighbor. We share a fondness for the corner at W. 102nd Street and West End Avenue where most every pre-war era collides in an explosion of styles and housing variations. I've written before about the early buildings like the Townsend House and my personal favorite, the St. Andoche.

Now it's time to pay some mind to the great Sicilian American architect Rosario Candela who left a mark on the way New Yorkers live by way of the incredible number of residential buildings he designed in the 1920s and 1930s. The Upper East Side boasts a fair number of them, but Candela Corners belong to us, Bloomingdalers.  With fine examples of his work at 800, 820, 865, 875, 878, and 915 West End and more south of here, you can't hold a candle to us!

You'll enjoy the intimacy of Anthony's talk as he infiltrated almost every Candela on West End to bring alive the architectural features that Candela was known for and that make living in one of his buildings a classic New York experience.

So keep your eye out tomorrow for the blog post with the video. And, now, as a little hors d'oeuvre, read on for my sit-down with Anthony.

Q&A with Anthony Bellov

Caitlin: How long have you lived in the neighborhood?
Anthony: I moved into 865 West End immediately after graduating from Pratt Institute School of Architecture in 1979. I really wanted to try "the City thing" for a while and Bloomingdale reminded me so much of my native Park Slope I felt right at home. Over 40 years later... I'm still here.

Caitlin: Ha! With echoes of Elaine Stritch. So how long did it take you to get involved in the Block Association?
Anthony: Not long! Lil Oliver, an 865 neighbor and Sy Oliver's wife and head of the American Guild of Musical Artists (AGMA), invited me to produce a show for one of the Block Parties - titled "On the Streets Where You Live" given in the early 1980's. I used my students - along with the many other things I do, I've taught singing since 1978, trained by my own teacher to do so - and I was immediately embraced by this wonderful community. It's terrific to feel so at home in supposedly uncaring, unfriendly Manhattan.

I've been active with the Block Association in many ways since then. I was a board member for seven years and spearheaded the efforts to stagger traffic lights on West End and have stop signs installed on the Riverside Drive service road. After stepping down I've continued being active; I deeply believe in community involvement. I've always believed that if I'm not part of the solution then I'm part of the problem.

I suggested to the board that we hold a Yard Sale in the spring to bookend the one 104th Street does each fall - I guess that was around 2004? I offered to manage the vendors in order to kick it off. I then served in that function for 13 years consecutively. In 1983 I thought it would be nice to do some holiday caroling and initially organized friends in my building to wander around singing. The Block Association offered to get involved and our Annual Solstice Caroling was born. Since then I've been happy to lead it each year, with the exception of three years when the weather was simply too brutal for us to hold it. This is our first pandemic - and virtual caroling - however. (Note: to join in the remote Caroling on December 21, you should write to solstice@w102-103blockassn.org for details).

Caitlin: It's an impressive amount of leaning in. And now you've just given your Candela Corners talk for the BA. What sparked your interest in Rosario Candela?
Anthony: I first learned of him when I was studying architecture at Pratt institute in the 1970s. Paul Goldberger of the New York Times had "outed" him around then, and I recall my instructors praising his work. Years later I was thrilled to learn I had been living in a Candela building when Andrew Dolkart's report for the West End Avenue Historic District was published.

Caitlin: Yes, Dolkart is epic and that report is a Rosetta Stone for folks interested in our history. I know these research projects are really about the hunt. As an introvert, I've found that getting lost in a topic is one of life's great gifts, conjuring our forebears and imagining who came before. Could you describe a little about how you did your research and what resources were of most value to your story?
Anthony: Andra Moss of Landmark West! approached me with the idea to do a series of talks on the Upper West Side. Among the topics we explored, never realizing what a "hit" it was going to be, was one on Rosario Candela, since we were both fans and both disappointed at the exhibition the Museum of the City of New York had put together.

As soon as word got out that I was preparing a talk several people approached me, like Alan Sukoenig and other residents of 915 West End Avenue who had been avidly fighting their building's owners over the disfigurements in the name of "renovation" that were going on in that building. They put me in touch with the Candela family and Andrew Alpern, the author of "The New York Apartment Houses of Rosario Candela and James Carpenter," who were all happy to share info, support and advice.

Caitlin: That's exactly what I mean about the hunt: it's all about the journey. One thing you did so beautifully in your talk was give us that "you are there" feeling by shooting the interiors. So smart. How did you pull that off?
Anthony: Two local realtors, Leonard Gottlieb and Jesse Berger, arranged for me to gain access to several buildings I was especially interested in, and my singing teacher happened to live in Candela's first project - The Clayton, on 92nd and Broadway - so I had access to that building as well. Everyone was so helpful and committed to letting me into spaces so I could see firsthand what a Candela unit felt like and share it in my talk.

Caitlin: Did you coin “Candela Corners” for our stretch of West End?
Anthony: Yes. When I realized there was such an extraordinary density of Candela-related buildings centered around the intersection of 103rd and West End I jokingly coined it "Candela Corners" in passing one day and then realized how apt that nickname was, so I used it in my presentations. Now there's talk that we petition the City to rename that intersection "Candela Corners" permanently - which I find very exciting.

Caitlin: What is it like to live in a Candela apartment and what features have been preserved in yours?
Anthony: As fate would have it, 865 is one of the worst-kept buildings on West End Avenue. And so, my unit is more intact than those in many other Candela buildings because so few improvements have been made. Apart from the kitchen (which was thankfully updated prior to my moving in - new sink, new stove, that sort of thing) and some other minor changes, Rosario would have no trouble recognizing his original choices in details. The fact that I've been in the unit for so many years has contributed to its "preservation" as well. I've kept the "remuddler" at bay all these years.

Long before I knew I was living in a Candela unit, friends and visitors would comment regularly on how my apartment didn't feel like an apartment, but rather, it felt like a home. The layout is gracious, and it's easy to live in the unit and feel comfortable. And I love the wonderful single-paneled doors, the oversize crystal doorknobs, the high ceilings, the gorgeous oak parquet flooring and the gracious moldings throughout - elegant without being fussy.

Although it was an "accident" that I moved into a Candela unit, one could argue it wasn't. Of all the apartments I saw when apartment-hunting, the one I chose simply stood out from all the rest. It was that "Candela magic" I guess.

Caitlin: Yes, maybe it was destiny or maybe as Louis Pasteur said "Chance favored the prepared mind." As you know,  I’ve also been a lover of Bloomingdale history having researched 855 WEA which preceded 865 by roughly 30 years. I have a soft spot for the intersection of W. 102nd Street and West End because so many different eras are represented just at this crossroad. I know you are a Candela groupie, but what’s your second favorite building at or near this intersection?
Anthony: LOL! You're assuming a Candela building is my FIRST favorite building! I can't really rate them numerically but I, too, am enamored of the 102/WEA intersection. Just to name a FEW of my local faves:

I love the Ralph Townsend House (link above) at 302 W. 102nd because of its charm, its antiquity (built in 1884, it's the oldest house in the vicinity) and its unique history of having been built first on West End and later lifted and moved around the corner to 102nd as you recount in your talk and blog post - to make room for your beloved 855! I'm very fond of the Dewey at 850 West End because of the truly unique carved details on the building - take a look at the supports under the bay windows - one has a bird being stalked by two cats, and another has two monkeys fighting over a pineapple - not to mention the portrait of Admiral Dewey on one of the buildings cartouches.

858 WEA is outstanding as well - that wonderful tower serving as an exclamation point on the corner of 102nd and West End (I hear tell there's a Mary Pickford/Douglas Fairbanks connection to this building) and across the street those wonderfully ornate window surrounds on the 102nd St side of 860 WEA... and as I walk home from the 103 St subway station I always delight in the fanciful carvings in the row of brownstones, one of which was Humphrey Bogart's birthplace.

So, honestly, I can't pick a "favorite" building - I simply revel in the richness of the architecture on our blocks. It lifts my spirits and elevates me above the everyday stresses of life.

Caitlin: I completely concur. I also love 858. It reminds my partner of the building near City College on Convent Avenue that was a main character in the film "The Royal Tenenbaums". And how funny it would be to have a Mary Pickford connection directly across from 855. In 1915, Pickford made the film version of "Fanchon the Cricket." It was Maggie Mitchell's stage presence in the play decades earlier that made her wealthy and enabled her to build 855 in 1895. So it would be ironical to trace them to living quarters directly opposite one another...if only for an afternoon delight in Pickford/Fairbanks case. We'll have to dig on that to see if Pickford and Mitchell crossed paths on West End.
Of the Candelas on WEA, which is your favorite?

Anthony: THAT is a REALLY TOUGH question - but I think I would have to pick 875, on "Candela Corner" per se. That lobby simply can't be beat - and the apartments are laid out really well, in Candela's mature style - so I suppose, if wrestled to the mat, that would be my fave. But honestly, I love 'em ALL!

Caitlin: I can hear all my friends in that coop swooning with pride. It is a fabulous lobby which you can't quite tell from the little entry.
What is Candela’s biggest legacy to the city and to New York living?
Anthony: Rosario Candela showed us that a skilled architect, with the proper training and perspective, could create spaces that are gracious, easy to live in, and that contribute to a positive experience while living in a large, multi-unit building in a dense urban environment in a building which could still be economical to build. He laid out his rooms in the way people live best. I'm sorry to say his was an approach that ended with the collapse of the economy in the 1930s. When development resumed after WWII it was largely "pack 'em in as tight as you can, give 'em as little as possible, and charge 'em through the nose." I feel truly fortunate that I lucked into a Candela apartment.

Caitlin: What’s your next research project?
Anthony: I actually don't have anything in the pipeline right now. I just completed a series of three documentary-style videos for the Merchant's House Museum - on its architecture, and its furniture and lighting collections - that have left me exhausted. But you're not the first person to ask me this. It has crossed my mind that Candela's mentor, Gaetan Ajello, might be a really interesting project, and I've become very aware of just how important the Paterno Brothers were for the development of the Upper West Side, Bloomingdale and Morningside Heights. Potentially there are really interesting stories there. But I have not committed to anything at the moment.

Caitlin: What’s the best and worst kept secret about Bloomingdale?
Anthony: I'm sort of sorry to say the formerly best kept secret about Bloomingdale is now the worst kept secret: that is what a GREAT part of Manhattan this is to live in. It used to be "you live all the way up THERE?!" which has now changed to "Oh wow - you live up THERE?! It's really NICE up there!" I'm afraid our secret's out....

Caitlin: Yeah, I used to get that all the time. As the song in "Hamilton" goes: "You don't know til you know..." So to loop back, I guess Maggie Mitchell was ahead of the game when she sunk her flag here and built our first 'high-rise' -- The St. Andoche -- at 855 West End. It was only a matter of time before Candela and other architects of the "grande dames" of West End caught on with the subway opening things up.

Thanks for sharing all this with me. I hope readers will tune in tomorrow for the video of your talk.

​

By Caitlin Hawke


While I don't doubt that Y2K20 has a disconcerting number of disappointments left to wing our way, I am starting to see a brighter and brighter pinpoint of light coming into focus at the end of the tunnel.

[I am thankful for the dot of light.]

Often that tunnel feels long and lined with toads and snakes and other biblical pests -- the allegories for threats to our mortality and well-being. But the tunnel's length is finite, and the pinpoint of light at the far side gets a hair bigger, a shade brighter, with each day passing. Something akin to the lengthening days following the winter solstice, imperceptible and in seconds at first, then palpable, and then again luxuriously prolonged.

[I am thankful for the nearing solstice.]

And so we begin the holiday season. Knowing our limbo will not last. This American holiday -- itself rooted deeply in unsavory mythology -- may be spent in relative isolation from our loved ones, but we have our community.

[I am thankful for Zoom.]

Having slouched toward Bethlehem for hundreds of days, we now see that things did in many ways fall apart, but by and large the center held.

And 'what rough beast slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?' That, neighbors, is Y2K21. Because in 2021, we have a true crack at a second coming. I am not speaking of the second wave. That will have to be endured as there seems no political will at hand to fend back its tide. I am speaking of the transformative potential of our collective experience in Y2K20.

[I am thankful to 2020 for mirroring back to us that we are up to the task -- I saw what the collectivity can do. It is fierce, it is large, and it contains multitudes.]

The revelation that W.B. Yeats spoke of is at hand: we'll need to bring our fierce, large multitudes across the year's threshold.

So tuck into your savory meals. Fatten up for the trying weeks ahead. Be safe and be smart.

[And let the giving of thanks begin.]

All the best, to you, Bloomingdalers, for today, for tomorrow and for 2021 -- now knocking hard at the door.

Someone, please get up from the table and let it in: Its hour comes round at last.

By Caitlin Hawke • Photos courtesy of neighbor Bill Altham

There's nothing more breathtaking than nature's firework of colors on a beautiful fall day. Pre-peak, peak, past-peak: it's all good. In decades on planet earth, I am still just a babe when it comes to the seasons, each one's beauty taking me utterly by surprise. That new green of spring seems unreal every year. And those maple reds deeper.

Some years the intensity is overwhelming, such as the new growth that gave us such comfort and hope this past spring when we'd been pushed to our limits. The new season galloping in was reassuring. I have been experiencing the changing colors with similarly new appreciation. And with similar assurance that we are marching through this cataclysm.

As we face down the aerosolized gantlet once more, we will again assume -- among the powers of the earth -- the station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle us. Our mortality, for one. And our community, for another.  Mother Nature is a mighty and beauteous force. And one clearly not to be tangled with. She has protested often this year.

And so, with the events of the past weeks and the growing spread, let the untangling begin.

Mother of Muses unleash your wrath
Things I can’t see - they’re blocking my path
Show me your wisdom - tell me my fate
Put me upright - make me walk straight
Forge my identity from the inside out
You know what I’m talking about

~ Bob Dylan
​"Mother of Muses" from Rough and Rowdy Ways, 2020

By Caitlin Hawke

Down to the quadrennial wire, I find myself thinking about this day four years ago. Reading the blog post “Finding Strength in Pain” now makes it seem like I knew what would go down in the 2016 contest. But 20/20 hindsight is not exactly a superpower. I surely did not know then.  And I don’t know now: what indeed will happen Tuesday and in the weeks to come?

On that election morning, I was already seeking the balm of Bob Dylan and distracting myself with the glow of his Nobel Prize. Even without a single live performance this year — a first that I know of since 1977 — Bob Dylan pierced through the lockdown with explosively creative and beautifully haunting new songs on his album Rough and Rowdy Ways. Seeing the certainty of the Never Ending Tour — and that of all other cultural institutions — shaken and taken right to the brink of existence has been humbling.

The state of cultural institutions pales in comparison to the astounding toll of human lives. But the loss of the industry is a maiming to New York’s identity, and one that we will contend with for years to come if only for the economic impact, which to me is not the most of it. That said, if we’re tabulating perversities such as the silver linings of Covid, I’ll happily add to the list an unimaginable coming boom from our artists experiencing a world on pause. A balm to look forward to.

For Election Day 2020, the pandemic has enhanced the intensity, increasing the stakes and the risks people feel worth taking. The early voting lines in our neighborhood alone and the ambiance of neighbors talking to neighbors in those lines indicate an engagement we’ve never experienced before and put me in mind of the 1994 general election in South Africa, which we watched high on our horse. Little did we know: there but for the grace of voices unheard would go we. Our 2020 lines were more spread out due to social distancing, but the snaking and voter tenacity in the face of potential disenfranchisement rhyme.

I feel as if I am experiencing all of this in a state of Rushed Limbo. I want to see more change, more enfranchisement, more civil society in action. Again, such are the perverse silver linings of this moment in our country — things we shouldn’t have to suffer through a constitutional or healthcare meltdown in order to harness. But perhaps this is just human nature, that action comes at the 59th minute of the 11th hour.

Limbo. Yes, I want the limbo of uncertainty to end. Rushed because I want to savor and let ferment all the powerful potential that’s coalesced in 2020. I want to herald the vindication of all the Colin Kaepernicks who knew. Who tried to tell a country not ready to hear. I want this massive populist potential to be what saves us after three branches of government have neither checked nor balanced one another or our sinking democracy.

The time signature of 2020 defies notational convention. It’s more like a warping than anything else.  To borrow from an astrophysical metaphor, I feel like I am sitting just beyond the event horizon of a black hole watching a clock slow down to imperceptible forward momentum. Y2K20 has done all it could to spaghettify us.

Hang tough, fellow Bloomingdalers. See you on the other side of this event's horizon.

The video embedded below is my lagniappe to you -- a balm in the form of Bob Dylan's "Key West" from his recent album. As one commenter on youtube wrote "You could walk alone down a long and winding road, swim across the seven oceans, climb a steep snowy mountain with a smile on your face if you had Bob Dylan singing the song in your ears." I hope you will enjoy it. If you are reading this in your email subscription to this blog, you'll have to click on the blog title to go to the post online and stream the song.

And alas it is true, there will be no Bob Dylan residency on the Upper West Side this year, but you can relive Bob@Beacon (1) here, (2)here and (3)here.

(1)http://www.boblinks.com/112319r.html#2
(2)https://www.westsiderag.com/2019/12/10/an-appreciation-bob-dylan-keeps-coming-back-to-the-beacon-theatre-and-i-havent-had-nearly-enough
(3)https://www.w102-103blockassn.org/blog/bob-on-broadway

By Caitlin Hawke

The year 2020 has thrown just about everything up into the air. We've paused, and in the pause our hyperlocal selves have had time and space to re-embrace our immediate environs. You've enjoyed your roof, your stoop, your sidewalk, your bike, and, when needed, your street as you spilled into the curb to give wide berth to each other. But you've also enjoyed each other, bumping into someone -- anyone -- after days of solitude was the highlight of many a 2020 day. 

While not without controversy, the opening up of streets to people undeniably gave pedestrians refuge -- a huge port in the storm of Covid. Perhaps you've noticed that W. 103rd Street has been one of the streets that opened for neighbors -- especially kids -- to enjoy. New York City calls these 'Open Streets' as they are open and safe for walkers, bicyclists, and those in wheelchairs. Cars, delivery, and service vehicles have access, subject to a 5 m.p.h. speed limit.  A harbinger of things to come?

There are many neighbors who hope that with all these open streets, we've crossed the Rubicon. Many have been buoyed by this unexpected momentum of prioritizing people over traffic. Of cleaner air and quieter airwaves.

It turns out that the groups Open Plans and Street Plans have been re-imagining a lot about W. 103rd Street, which near Broadway is home to an older adult community -- The Marseilles. Also, in the Marseilles's vacant storefrontage, the Purple Circle early childhood program will soon take up residence. Young and old cheek by jowl and in need of green space.  That might also be an engine for the re-imagination of W. 103rd Street.

So here's a chance for you to come learn more for yourself about what's being tossed around. At a socially-distanced, outdoor occasion this Friday, Open Plans and Street Plans will welcome your input and invite you to complete surveys about how you might use W. 103rd Street as a magic-carpet connector from Riverside Park to Central Park. 

If 2020 has taught us anything, it's that we have to be prepared for everything! We must be willing to roll up our sleeves to make the society, the city, and the neighborhoods that we want.  When coronavirus is no longer a threat, we need to be able to find each other and commune again. We need to seed the next generation of street-level commerce that has been chiseled away by years of our neglect, which I've written about at these links:

Part 1: We Got the Supply. Where's the Demand?
Part 2: In Joon, Our Fall
Part 3: Lincoln Plaza Cinemas: Fare Thee Well My Honey
Part 4: Three Restaurants Go Down in One Month
Part 5: A Glorious UWS 800-Person Wave Turns Back the Tide

Incredibly, we saw a remarkable reanimation of Broadway and Amsterdam with the recent outdoor café life, and perhaps there's a whole new business model there for our restaurants. But we do know that block after block of empty storefronts coupled with fewer pedestrians is a bad combo.

The pressure is still very much on for those very businesses who were hanging on pre-pandemic, and who now have been dealt a coup de grace by months of closure. Countless -- literally countless -- are lost and gone forever. Transformation can happen -- and often does happen -- quickly. Or at least tipping points come fast without warning after a long priming.

As we grind through these very hard times, there is so much potential right now to build back the way we want it, to push to the tipping point of our choosing. To demand reform at the commercial storefront level. To support greener streets and more vibrant avenues. To favor the strengthening of the fabric for all to benefit from.

I love this neighborhood and can imagine only the sky as the limit for Bloomingdale.

So mask up, come out on Friday to the SW corner of W. 103rd and Broadway, and tell the folks who are driving this innovative project what you think about their rethinking.

In the morning, you may find a parking space or two transformed into a parklet. And starting at noon, the Open Plans and Street Plans folks will be standing by to hear your take.
​
Rain date is October 30th. More below.

By Caitlin Hawke

​Okay, 2020 has done its more-than-fair share to coop us up. Some of us are returning to the life we love of walking the neighborhood and soaking in the city, masked and somewhat anonymous. We have a governor who is on the qui vive, watching Covid-19 positivity test rates and hospital admissions like the proverbial hawk. He's got one hand on the valve that seals our fate as to whether we walk freely or return to our confinement.

We know not what the following weeks will bring.

But we do know that November 3 is galloping in.

Come Election Day, how will you cast your actual vote? Not who will you vote for. How will you get that vote registered. Do you have a plan? Like a great chef, with a mise-en-place first in mind, then in deed, have you envisioned how you will act on what you visualize: physically casting your ballot for POTUS and all the other races in play?  Are you going -- first thing -- to your poll the morning of November 3rd? (Do you know where you poll is?! Find it here.) Are you worried about being in a long line, a crowd, exhalate circling? Perhaps you envision mailing in your vote? Did you request your absentee ballot? Do you know if your application for the absentee ballot was accepted? Are you certain you are registered to vote?

There's word from the board of elections that absentee ballots should be mailing out this week. When you get yours, will you mail it in or drop it at a polling place?

A lot of questions!  Solace may come in the good feeling that having a concrete plan brings.

You must request your absentee ballot by October 27th, but that is very late in the game given our snail mail system. Why not request it today right here:  

https://nycabsentee.com/absentee

We are all eligible to vote with an absentee ballot as we've been affected by Covid-19 or are concerned with the potential of contracting the virus. In your application for an absentee ballot, make sure to check the box for "Temporary Illness". The definition has been expanded to include "a risk of contracting or spreading a disease" such as Covid-19.

Your ballot must be postmarked by November 3rd to count, but get it in early. You never know which gremlin will gum up the works of the ghosted sorting machines.
​
Perhaps you've already requested your mail-in/absentee ballot. Did you know can track your request to learn if your application (or request) for your absentee ballot was approved and learn whether it's making its way to you? Yup! You sure can, right here:

https://nycabsentee.com/tracking

Make certain to enter your information exactly as it appears in your voter record. Failure to do so may result in a “Record Not Found”.

This does not mean you are not eligible! For further assistance, you can call 1-866-VOTE-NYC or email AbsenteeHelp@boe.nyc.

We spent all spring getting our houses in order. Now is the time to attend to our civic houses. Only 58.1% of our voting-eligible population voted in the 2016 election or some 138 million people, down from 58.6% in 2012 and a recent high of 61.6% in 2008.

Lamentable.

Of course, behind those percentages are literally millions of poll stories of effort and perseverance, of dismay and disappointment, of iron wills and of towels thrown in.  

Get ready to vote your hearts out. Stay safe. Stay vigilant. And most of all: make your plan for how to cast your vote.
​

An edit to yesterday's post: After publishing "Getting Our Civic Houses in Order: Part 1, The 2020 Census," I added the information that while federal U.S. District Judge Lucy Koh ruled last week that the 2020 Census count be extended until October 31, 2020, the Trump administration is appealing that ruling. Conclusion: get your count in and fill out the census without delay: www.my2020census.gov.

By Caitlin Hawke

This is Part 2 of a three-part series of posts on civil society since it seems worth wondering when the check and balance of the citizenry has ever been poised to have as big an impact as it will on November 3, 2020. We have gone through the gantlet of a cruel year, and we went through it very much together in New York. I saw you out there in your windows in the darkest days banging on pots. I saw you ferrying groceries and staffing stores as essential workers. I saw you poking your head up and returning to a (masked) semblance of normalcy. And I see you now, ready to hunker down and keep NYC safe for the indoor season. But the cruelty of a once-in-a-century pandemic has put emphatic punctuation on how crucial leadership is in our time of need. Leaders are of our choosing. And we have many times-of-need bearing down on us still. I am looking at you: ravaged New York economy, west coast fires and rapidly changing climate, and vaccine of our deliverance.

Who do you want governing through it all?

Dear neighbors, as if you needed reminding, Election Day Approaches. And it is finally our turn again.  Your house may be pristine from months of winnowing, but is your Civic House in order?

For one, are you registered to vote?

Friday, October 9th, is your deadline to register to vote. But don't delay; go to vote.nyc or call 866-868-3692 to verify if you are registered or to obtain registration instructions. Once registered, vote early or request your absentee ballot, also known as your mail-in ballot. Act now or forever hold your peace.

Register to vote here:
www.vote.nyc/page/register-vote

Verify whether you are already registered to vote here:
www.vote.nyc/page/am-i-registered

What else can you? Talk to your family and friends and see if they have their civic houses in order. Share this blog post. Ask them what their plan is to cast their vote.

Tomorrow, you'll see information here about absentee voting. Stay tuned. Stay vigilant. Remain present. But if needed, vote absentee.

For Part 1, see yesterday's post about the 2020 Census. You still have time to tidy up that room of your civic house. Be counted not just for the sake of the NYC and NYS budgets and representation, do it for the historians to come and the future that is unfurling at breakneck speed. The US Census report is a goldmine for researchers and genealogists. And it is a critical tool for equity in our society. 2020 has asked you to look her in the face and accept her painful lessons about what just society looks like. She got us out the door onto the long road. Now comes the time to count every person, seize our enfranchisement by registering to vote (today's post), and make sure your vote is cast (tomorrow's post).

​

By Caitlin Hawke

Edit: Post-publication of this blog post, I am adding the information that while federal U.S. District Judge Lucy Koh ruled last week that the 2020 Census count be extended until October 31, 2020, the Trump administration is appealing that ruling. Conclusion: get your count in and fill out the census without delay: www.my2020census.gov.


This is one of three posts this week about civil society. As a community of citizens, we are -- for better or worse -- linked by our collective activity. I can't recall a time in my life when the check and balance civil society represents had more potential for impact.

So here is part one. We all have two days to complete the 2020 Census. It closes on September 30th. In my innocence, I have always loved the historic censuses -- some on microfilm, some digital -- to search for ancestors and make other inferences for research purposes. The idea of a census that so vastly undercounts our population -- in this so-called advanced and digial era -- smacks at the gob.

Have you been counted? Have yours been counted?

Here's one last push. To make sure you're in there so NYC, NYS, the USA and future historians may all benefit from a full and accurate count, go to www.my2020census.gov. The clock is ticking loudly at this 59th minute of the 11th hour.

By Caitlin Hawke

Today, I left my home just as FDNY members were streaming past, down 100th Street toward the Riverside Park firefighters monument where they remembered their fallen for the 19th time in their annual rite. 

I realized it was, again, September 11th. 

In the first years, it was so raw. As time passed, the anniversary provided a chance to summon back the day's events, to remember and pay tribute. To mourn. Now nearly twenty years since 9/11, a generation gone by, I remain incredulous.

Waking New Yorkers soaked in the morning's perfection, readying for work. Not a hint of the waning summer's humidity. A clear, deep blue sky. A cool edge on a late summer day or a warm edge on an early fall day -- take your pick.

I get hung up when I think back, looping memories of the weather in the hours before disaster struck, the perversion of such a fine day juxtaposed with the date's murderousness.

And nineteen years later, I find solace in the poignant telltales, pictured here, left by firefighters remembering their own. It rekindles the solidarity I experienced with my fellow New Yorkers that whole autumn long. And I feel the throughline of that solidarity now in our current ordeal from which we momentarily emerge for a fine fall day. 

​
~~Dedicated to the West Coast Firefighters with respect for their valor and hope for their safety.~~

The monument -- which needs to be updated with mention of women -- is inscribed:
To the men of the Fire Department
of the City of New York
who died at the call of duty
soldiers in a war that never ends
this memorial is dedicated by the people of a grateful city.
Erected 1912.

A memorial offering, above right, to Joseph P. Spor, Jr. from Rescue 3 in the Bronx, who perished in the South Tower with seven others from his team. He was a father of four, the youngest of whom -- Caitlin Marie, like me -- was just nine months old.

FDNY lost 343 members on 9/11.

A recognition to horses, the fire engines of yore.

By Caitlin Hawke

There's still time to make plans to join us for Tuesday's history talk via Zoom (July 14 at 7 p.m.)! I'll be presenting at the annual meeting of the Block Association. To tune in, send an email to AMZoom@w102-103blockassn.org. You will receive the log or dial in information for Zoom.

If you haven't heard the talk, it revives a 125 year-old piece of our neighborhood's history. Once known as the St. Andoche, 855 West End Avenue (at center above) was constructed by beloved Civil War-era actor Maggie Mitchell, whose fame was second only to Edwin Booth’s, brother of John Wilkes Booth. Her story is largely forgotten, but the eight-story colonial revival St. Andoche still stands proud on the southwest corner of West 102nd Street where Maggie retired and lived for the last two decades of her life. The talk is equal parts early U.S. theater history, Bloomingdale history, and neighborhood architectural history.

Hope you can make it but make sure to register at the email above. Please share this with your Block Association neighbors.

By Caitlin Hawke

Neighbors, I have two pieces of news for you. If you did not receive an email in June from the Block Association about the publication of the Summer 2020 edition of the quarterly newsletter, it means you are not on the Block Association's email list. To join the list, make sure to visit this page so you don't miss future news (https://www.w102-103blockassn.org/join-us.html).  Fill out "Step 1" and you will be all set. If you wish to support your BA, continue to "Step 2."

I will send you the newsletter once we receive your sign up.

The second piece of news is that on Tuesday, July 14, at 7 p.m., at the annual meeting I'll be repeating the talk I gave for the Bloomingdale Neighborhood History Group in January: "From Ford's Theatre to 855 West End Avenue: Maggie Mitchell and the Story of the St. Andoche."

In a past blog post, I've written about Maggie Mitchell, the famous Civil War actor who built 855 West End Avenue. I'll be telling the story of her acting career and the beautiful building she mysteriously named the St. Andoche, located on the Southwest corner of W. 102nd Street and West End Avenue.

Known throughout the country for her stage presence and for her literally enchanting performances, Mitchell's success was huge -- she was out-earned only by Edwin Booth, America's leading man and brother of Lincoln's assassin John Wilkes Booth, both of whose paths Maggie crossed repeatedly. A child of New York, Maggie grew up on the stage, traveled the country and retired to Bloomingdale, settling at 855 West End Avenue, where she died in 1918.

All are welcome to Zoom into this talk on Tuesday, July 14 at 7 p.m. Please register by RSVPing to AMZoom@w102-103blockassn.org to receive the Zoom details to log in.

Hope you will join us to learn about this little nugget of neighborhood history!

See you on Tuesday.

By Caitlin Hawke

Apart. Like we have all been for months. A Part. Like we are coming to be, of a movement.

It's now rattled our windows and shaken our walls. I don't think I will ever forget the despair-to-hope ride of the past seven days for the rest of my life. They say you forget pandemics. The worry subsides and the world returns to normal. I'm always taken aback when someone doesn't recall the AIDS crisis, especially in New York City. I fully expect for Covid-19 to recede quickly into the recesses of our minds, once it packs its bags and moves on. 

But the power harnessed by the people in our streets protesting peacefully is stunning. The tipping point is in our rear view mirror, but we don't fully trust it yet. And there's so much still to fight for.

The curfews this week have been yet another chapter in "2020: How Surreal Can It Get." Tonight, itching to flout, but mostly hoping to soak in my strange neighborhood, I took a bike ride through the Upper West Side. Below are some images from that ride. As much as I want my city back and for the virus to remain under control, I also want the roots of what is happening to go down deep and buckle the macadam, rendering the old byways unpassable and forcing us to lay down new ones. 

It's almost as if the fact that we were apart enabled so many to become a part of this. Certainly the fact of our limbo helped hasten the outrage about the senseless murder of George Floyd, galvanized by the inequities of Covid's toll. 

I'm still thinking about Ex Uno Plures and E Pluribus Unum. Written only two months ago. I find myself believing that it's coming to fruition before our eyes. But "2020: How Surreal Can It Get" has many a chapter to go.

UWS Curfew Gallery: Part 1 - Hell You Talmbout
​​The first images I noted were these solemn panels -- memorials to victims of police brutality. If you haven't heard Janelle Monáe's song, it is what was going through my head when I saw these blades.

​(Keep scrolling down for more images; to view the gallery properly, click on the blog title to view it online).

If you received this in an email subscription, to listen to Janelle Monáe's "Hell You Talmbout" please click on the blog title to view the post online.

UWS Curfew Gallery: Part 2 - Lincoln's Center Under Cover

UWS Curfew Gallery: Part 3 - On Broadway Where Wood Meets Glass Under Bright Neon Lights

UWS Curfew Gallery: Part 4 - Check Point Nine Six
After 8 p.m., no through traffic is permitted south of 96th Street these days. I rode freely up the middle of the avenue toward home past a deserted 87th Street.

Below, a police officer checks in with a driver and let's him pass.

​In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand

​-- Bob Dylan, "Every Grain of Sand"

By Caitlin Hawke

West End Avenue is deafeningly silent early this morning as the curfew has curtailed most car traffic south of 96th Street. It's a street I recognize less and less yet one that I've come to know deeply. I find myself studying it. Each bird chirping. Each passerby. Each delivery truck. Each siren. Each neighbor at his or her window in my sightlines. All targets of my gaze in a way I have never gazed before.

Looking out my window in sleepy Bloomingdale all day today I perceived a strange vibrato. Tension thick in the air. Anticipation. Trepidation. And the gaze from apartment to street of all these neighbors still cooped up is one of watchful, worried eyes. The First Wave scarcely receded, the Second Wave is roiling and swiftly rolling in.

But I am not talking about the virus. Like a Rube Goldbergian contraption, infection has become the vector of infection. Instead of picking up with some semblance of normalcy coming off the first wave of coronavirus, we are now again waist deep in. Begat by the first wave but not precisely in its own image, the Second Wave of which I speak looks and feels very much like a growing revolution, where people the city over -- the country and the world over -- have been swept up as it crests. 

Chalked on sidewalks, hung from windows, held up in protest posters each day at 1pm in Straus Park, called out by peaceful congregants making their noontime way down Broadway, the revolution beckons: manifest in support of justice for all, manifest in opposition to police brutality, manifest in acknowledgment of the grotesque and disproportionate toll Covid-19 has had on people of color.

The solidarity of the Second Wave equals that of the first, but its fury surpasses it. Both share uncharted waters, unpredictable consequences, unimaginable cost, unfathomable pain.

Experts tell us that there will be another wave of viral infections. But they didn't tell us that our social isolation would finally make us immune to complacency and catapult us into the work we must now do. 

I'm still too jaded to believe that in corona there could be salvation. But at a minimum there is transformation. And we are most definitely not coming out of this the same.  Prepare ye.

Above photos courtesy of Sharon Waskow

Daily protest near Straus Park near W. 106th Street, where neighbors gather at 1 p.m.

By Caitlin Hawke

Reflecting nigh on 100 days of solitude, I should be writing a love letter to Bloomingdale Aging in Place, or "BAiP" as everyone calls it. A bit over ten years old, this network of neighbors has proven itself to be the insta-community just waiting for anyone who wanted to join and meet-up hyperlocally. Did you ever watch "Cheers"? It's like that bar. But without walls. And no taps. You walk in, and everyone knows your name. BAiP is a perfect third place.

Its network of neighbors has launched nearly 100 different social and activity groups in the last decade. Groups that meet monthly, weekly and in some cases daily. 

But when Covid-19 hit and flung all BAiPers into their respective corners, with a halt to in-person social activities, it was hard to predict what might happen.

Three months later, there are more than 100 people meeting up -- sometimes three times a week -- to join remote yoga classes and then stick around in a post-yogic haze for breakouts just to schmooze, share, check in, be.

Many of the activity groups have not missed a beat, moving swiftly online and picking up when Mother Nature thwarted them from meeting together in cinemas and museums, in parks and living rooms. Each group its own mini-community led by a neighbor, when beheld together these dozens of groups weave into a tight-knit fabric of connectivity for nearly 1500 people throughout Bloomingdale. The grassroots, neighbor-to-neighbor model not only has proven resilient and responsive, but it has also been a lifeboat ferrying from desert island to desert island keeping us castaways connected while we all endure the strange pause.

Knowing that with a click, three times a week, I can jump in for a yoga class, instantly connect, and lay eyes on all these neighbors makes me feel a solidarity like the one I feel at 7 p.m. sharing glimpses and furtive waves with neighbors across the street, ringing my bell as fast and hard as I can to keep up with the cheers.

And while these classes are great for body and spirit, BAiP's neighbor-led groups are the community-building engine at its core, and despite worst initial fears, many have found a way to persevere online.

One of BAiP's oldest living room groups, Photography, is led by Block Association cameraman and ubermensch Ozzie Alfonso. Just as Covid-19 struck, Ozzie sent out word to the neighbors in his group that the next theme to shoot would be "Life in the Time of Coronavirus." Slightly ahead of the wave, the crew got out there way back a lifetime ago when the crocuses were starting to come up.  Over the weeks, they began documenting our neighborhood, our stores and streets, our residences.

Below is the very special, personal gallery that these local photographers produced. To view more of this group's work, see the dozens of their beautiful galleries here.

For me, coronavirus is a clarion call, like the one intoned by Allen Ginsberg at the end of Scorsese's documentary on Bob Dylan's magical mythical tour, the Rolling Thunder Revue. It's as if this virus is saying the same:

"Try to get yourself together, clean up your act, find your community. Pick up on some kind of redemption of your own consciousness, become more mindful of your own friends, your own work, your own proper meditation, your own proper art, your own beauty. Go out and make it for your own eternity."

Here's hoping that if we take one kernel of truth back out into the social world with us when we emerge it is one akin to BAiP's truth: build the community you aspire to and they will come.

This Block Association and its sister organization, BAiP, spawned here 11 years ago, deserve your TLC. ​We have work to do, people. And redemption of our consciousness may be the one true gift to arise from this ordeal.

Credit: Gallery "Life in the Time of Covid '19" courtesy of BAiP's Photography group led by Ozzie Alfonso. Note: if you received this post in an email via your subscription, click on the title of the blog post to view the gallery online.

And lastly, my lagniappe for you is the Ginsberg benediction of the Rolling Thunder Revue. Again, if you are reading this in an email via your subscription, click on the blog post title to view the video on the blog.

By Caitlin Hawke

I won't go much into my complicated relationship to my patriotism. Except to say, while I could have done without all the lapel pins that later ensued, when I saw the first flags appear in solidarity in the immediate wake of 9/11, it took a deep emotional toll. I don't think I'd ever before realized how powerful a symbol a cloth flag could be.

When I was in grade school, I remember learning "Lift Every Voice and Sing" and being awestruck by its beauty. It shook awake in me an explosively optimistic feeling, perhaps the birth of my complicated patriotism.

Today, cheering at my window, watching my partner cheer beside me, hearing his voice projecting over West End Avenue, listening to but not seeing my downstairs neighbor ringing her school bell, and seeing my counterparts across the avenue materialize from behind closed windows night in and night out: these are small moments of solidarity I never could have imagined would be mine. 

Like the flags after 9/11 and the voices lifted in song of my DC childhood, the evening cheers touch a deep nerve within. Collective and rallied around a single cause. A patriotism.

Here now come the airborne elite. In a military tribute to the legions who've kept our fates from a downward spiral -- the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds and the Navy's Blue Angels will flyover our punch drunk city today at noon in a salute to the people whose debt we are in: our essential workers and the frontline Covid workers.

These glorious flocks of flying machines are guaranteed to take your breath away.

I can't imagine any aerobatics, but the metaphor of the jets passing in impossible proximity at impossible speed is akin to what our medical, city, and essential business workers have done these past two months. Lockstep. No margin of maneuver. In sync. All ramped up at full speed.

As I said at the top of this post, my patriotism has its complexities. But when it comes to the Blue Angels and the Thunderbirds, when they fly over, all is forgiven and forgotten between me and Uncle Sam: I am American to my core. The sight and stunning sound of them, too, make a deep emotional mark -- like a roaring promise that anything is possible, anything achievable. If we come together.

Deep inside we know it's time to face the rising sun of our next new day. With the Blue Angels above, let it resound loud as the rolling sea.