Love Affair
I have courted a lover from an early age. The depth of this love only grows with time. There is so much to love. And, daily opportunities abound to enjoy all my lover has to offer. New York City is my first and true love. When I return from a trip, I gasp internally each and every time I see the city skyline, affirming my devotion.
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I have given up a lot, though it feels like a fair trade-off. I live in a small apartment, one in which our family of three regularly negotiates for space. But our rent is reasonable, for the city, due in large part to rent stabilization laws. This detail allows me to see the theater I enjoy so much, attend art exhibits, visit museums, listen to amazing music, and dine at restaurants offering delicious meals. The apartment is right off the unsung Carl Shurz Park by the East River Promenade. The volunteers work diligently to make it a haven for our Yorkville neighborhood.

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But perhaps more than the art, the culture, the food our city offers is the diversity that brings the city to life. Walking the city block to block, park to park, borough to borough, I see a kaleidoscope of ethnicities, free music, international representation, class range, income disparities, architectural designs, clothing choices, anonymity and personage.




As with all loves there are aspects of the city that leave me cold. I don’t like how public housing is neglected, how there is inequality in the treatment by certain law enforcers. I am unhappy with the lack of access to good healthcare for the underserved. I don’t like how dirty certain streets can be. I don’t like how crowded the city can get. I am not happy with the lack of resources for mental health services, including no well-paid professional with manageable caseloads. These all matter to me, and other New Yorkers, and we are hopeful for lasting changes.


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As I think about what I truly love about this city, I think of how long it took to build and rebuild the infrastructures that support the arts, the parks and the other gratifying outlets the New York City offers. With care and attention, I am hopeful that we can heal the issues that ail the city at large.


(Images from online stock)
So, while the process is at play, I will continue to walk down the streets of my city, feeling the love, stopping to enjoy my favorite places that offer transcendence from every day stressors.

(Stock from Online)
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I ran my first race in over a year. It was slow process, both recovering from benign injuries, as well as running 15-minute miles this morning. In the past months I went through acupuncture, medical massage and physical therapy putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. So, tentatively, step by step I took on Central Park’s Drive.




I missed running, though I never thought I could be a runner. I was a girl who always got a cramp in my side when I tried to run anything more than a 50-yard-dash. In phys. ed. I ran the requisite laps around the gym, but my lungs burned and my midriff always hurt. I was among the last. Not THE last person, but close. And, in my twisted child’s mind, I took solace in that fact. That fact still gives me solace in my twisted adult mind when I slowly run races.







No one tells you how grief feels in the body. The aches and pains and fatigue knead on stressed parts of our anatomy. The lethargy the body takes on is formidable. Clothes must be loose, sounds soft.













When I was 10 years old I was allowed to walk on Haddonfield-Berlin Road, crossing highways entrances and exits to go to The Woodcrest Shopping Center. For a short time they had The Jerry Lewis Movie Theater, and I could get in for 50 cents, the amount of my allowances after chores. Or, I would go to W.T. Grant’s, deemed a twenty-five cent department store, but more of a five and dime. that sold colorful birds, toys, clothes, plastic jewelry, and featured a lunch counter. I was much too shy to go to the counter alone. But I loved getting lost in the aisles ending up with some sort of sweet. There was also Crest Lanes where I could bowl. I loved the crack of the pins being hit, and the overhead light of the score pad. In the other direction I would walk to The Haddontown Swim Club. It was lovely after a hot August walk to reach the pool and jump in to the cold splash of wet relief. These were some of my first destination walks.














