Winning the Lottery

Riverside Park 

At lunch today, I walked along the sidewalk in Riverside Park enjoying the pleasant, sunny winter day.  I was chatting on the phone with my mother about a particularly good piece of news that I couldn't wait to share with her.

(Perhaps you remember my mom from a previous post. If not, you can read it here.)

My mom is quiet and soft spoken yet has a hidden courage and strength equal to that of a lioness.  She is kind, thoughtful and has a fun sense of humor. I am so thankful my daughters and I have her for a role model.

She wanted to know what it looked like where I was walking today.  She expected a hustling, bustling NYC sidewalk so I said I'd send her a picture.  So this one's for you, mom.

I truly did win the birth lottery and I can't wait to spend a lot more time with you very soon. 

The God Box

The Interchurch Center - AKA "God Box"

The building I work in has been dubbed "The God Box".  

At a funeral recently when my husband told an acquaintance where I worked, the person responded, "In the God Box?"

A towering 19-stories facing the Hudson River located at 475 Riverside Drive and 120th Street in Manhattan, New York City. 

I don't know when people started calling it that or who was the first to tag the building with that name, but it is rather catchy - don't you think?  I did a Google search of "God Box NYC" and six of the eight entries on the first page were absolutely about this building.

According to Wikipedia it received this nickname because of all the religious agencies located in the building. United Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Church World Service, United Church of Christ, and the list goes on.  (If curiosity is killing the cat, you can read all about it here.) 

All kinds of God work going on in this place!  Jeepers!

However, even though it's dubbed "The God Box", everyone knows that just like you can't put Baby in a corner, you can't put God in a box.  

It's Just A Bad Rap

I'll be totally honest and I hope I don't disappoint you, but here goes.  It's been more difficult for me to spot my "Chockful and Bursting with Joy" moments since I've started living in NYC. 

I know!  I know!  I know this is exactly opposite of some people. They look around and see excitement!  The city energizes them!  Unfortunately, I struggle to share that sentiment. I look around on the daily commute and the walk home from the train.  It's loud. It's crowded. There is a lot of garbage and dirt.  People aren't smiling.  Laughter is rare. I find that rather than energizing me, the city drains me.

New Yorkers have gotten a really bad rap, however.  In over 16 months time, absolutely everyone I've spoken to on the train has been very nice to me, with the exception of only one person (who may or may not be the topic of a future post.) 

New Yorkers are forced to share small spaces and therefore become very private about their space in places like the subway or on the bus. Most people keep to themselves and just travel to and from work.It's kind of an unwritten rule on the metro.Therefore, if anything is said, it's typically me who says something first. However, when I do reach out I'm greeted with friendliness and a return smile. 

I should have been wise enough to remember that joy is in the people, not the surroundings.   
    

Gone where?

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. 

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is still just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port. 

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There, she's gone!" There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying. 

 - Henry Van Dyke
         

A Delightful Moment

As I gaze out the window of the airplane at the ground below sparsely covered with snow, I am struck by the contrast between the white snow on the ground and the white clouds floating in the sky. Miles below me, yet miles above the ground, the clouds cast their shadow on the earth far below. 

Some areas are thick and stretch for miles like a huge plush mattress of cotton, others are just small puffs of white. They both equally invite cherubs with plump, rosy cheeks to dance and frolic about in giggles and fits of laughter in their softness. 

Far below the dark rivers and roads snake across the landscape making crazy patterns in the snow. 

I'm looking for spot where a fun loving, little angel jumped a little too hard, glided the distance to earth and upon landing proceeded to flap arms and legs making a perfect angel in the unblemished snow. 

 

It's a delightful day with a joyful moment of imagery. 

One of these things is not like the others

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things, doesn't belong....the tune from the old Sesame Street song danced through my head. 

In the Amsterdam airport last month, I had walked in and sat down in the Irish Pub for a burger. I noticed it was very similar to Irish pubs and burger joints I'd been in before, but this felt different. It was palpable.  I noticed it right away.   I was the only woman patron in the place.

The woodwork was deep mahogany and the music played quite loudly. There was a lingering smell of foreign cigarette smoke in the place, even though there was a separate smoking area through a stained glass door dully marked, and the conversation was interspersed with the deep tones of guys laughing about guy stuff. 

As I sat at the table in front of the stained glass window withvthe sunshining in, I'm certain that my gayly colored yellow blouse screamed "IT'S A GIRL!"  Although at 50+ I hardly feel like a girl any longer. 

I noticed another woman walk in, look around and leave. 

Finally a gal walked in and found a spot at the bar.  She either hadn't noticed yet or was much braver than others.  I had actually selected the table by the window so I could sit and observe everyone else. Not a bold move, but perhaps some would consider it daring. 

There was a fair amount of traffic through the smoker's door. I don't think they were here for the burgers, instead they were here for a power that was tough to resist in an otherwise smoke free environment within the airport. 

I ordered at the bar. Other than that the waitstaff acted like I had leprosy. Interesting. The man who ordered after me finished his meal and left which cued me to inquire about the whereabouts of my burger. Apparently the waitress hadn't rung it in, it was shift change and  alas no burger.   Good thing I have time to kill before my flight. 

More women appeared.  And stayed. Perhaps they figured if an old lady in a yellow blouse was okay here, they were too. 

Sometimes that's how life is. We just need someone else to go first. 

Hi! How are you?

I read the other day that the most common lie we (as North Americans) tell is when we respond to the question, "How are you?"  We typically answer without even thinking about it. We open our mouths and out comes the canned response ..."I'm fine."  "Good!"  "Never better!"

Having met a number of people  from other countries, I've had the opportunity to discuss this topic with some of them. One young man considered us to be fake and insincere because of our flippant auto-answer and another when asked that question took it as a genuine inquiry and launched a heartfelt answer. 

Since it's really just a pleasantry and we are not really looking for an honest answer why don't we switch up our question?

How about...

What is the last song you danced to?
What makes your heart sing?

What makes you smile at the end of the day?

What gives you energy?

When was the last time you were decently kissed?  (Ok, that's a line from a fun movie that doesn't really fit this situation but I thought I'd throw it in here.)

What makes you cry?

If you could change the world, what would it look like?

You get the idea.  And then the trick is that you need to listen to their answer. After all, if you aren't going to listen to their answer, why bother to ask it in the first place. 

Give it a shot. Although you may want to do it over a tall, decaf, cappuccino.  Because you may find a real answer to how your friends are. 

The Daily Commute

Today I took the subway to and from work for the first time. I've been on the subway in years past, but never as a daily mode of travel to work. My morning commute looked like this:

My ride home was rather different and looked more like this:

It's been interesting contrasting the city commute with the mid-west commute where you hop in your car, drive 2 miles stopping at 2 stop signs and a traffic light to get to work. 

When I worked from an office in our home, we used to joke about what I did during commute time. Sometimes I vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom or washed a load of laundry.   

For a people watcher the subway certainly offers variety that's for sure. 

The BIG Apple

I haven't posted for quite some time now. Much has happened and little has happened. I am still madly in love with my husband. He and our five month old black lab have given me much joy to write about; however I have chose not to. If you ask me why, I won't have a good explanation.

Today I boarded an airplane headed for the big apple. As in BIG apple. NYC. Yes, that's correct, New York City. We are almost ready to land and a very different way of life awaits me. You see, almost two years ago I applied and interviewed for my dream job.  The position was offered to another person, life went on  with wonderful things...marriage, we became grandparents, my husband accepted a job transfer, we moved to Florida. Home of the Blue Angels and the white, sugar sand beaches!

Lo and behold a month ago, the dream job HR department contacted me to see if I was still interested!  After a whirlwind month of interviews, conversations with my husband and wrapping up obligations from my previous employment, I now find myself on an airplane preparing to land in a city that both excites and scares me.

This little Wisconsin (Florida) girl is hitting the big city and is chockful and bursting with joyful things to write about. 

A Delightful Tale

 My mother called me yesterday with a delightful tale to share.

She and my father live across the street from the city park in a small town in central Wisconsin that has many "goings on" all through out the year such as band concerts, family reunions, the Tator Trot 10k run/walk, ice skating, weddings, and of course, the annual Easter Egg Hunt.

Today is Easter and yesterday was the infamous egg hunt.

I'll set the stage for you... it's been a long, cold winter with a LOT of snow.  Every time the weatherman comes on TV he's reporting 2, 5, 9 inches of snowfall.  Some of it has melted, but not much.  On Friday when I talked to her she said the park department had been across the street that day with the equipment they use to groom the snowmobile trails.  She said it was funny watching them as they made paths through the snow throughout the park so the children could run on the trails to find their eggs at their annual egg hunt.

When she called yesterday she was laughing as she told me what happened.  The children all gathered for the big event and unfortunately it started to rain.  So they were all running along the trails through the snow, hunting for eggs and holding umbrellas to keep dry.  Then the rain turned to snow.  Big fluffy, wet flakes, coming down heavy and thick.  It made me laugh to picture the kids with umbrellas in one hand, Easter baskets in the other, as they ran around the park in a snow storm looking for colored eggs.

The part I loved best was hearing the delight in my mother's voice as she shared the story.