Get an advance on spring with indoor orchids!

On the last day of March, our neighbors to the north are still surrounded by winter white, while Gothamists greet the new month with brown and grey. Fortunately, underneath seeming perpetually rainy skies, their is respite. Inside the Haupt Conservatory of the New York Botanical Gardens, a world of color awaits.

There, Opulent orchids from around the would abound. Think of it as getting a leg up on Easter. Posted here is but a paltry selection of the immense collection within.

We treated Nicole's parents to the fabulous florae that is the Orchid show. You can visit too, the exhibit runs until April 21st.

Look out!! Plants!

Prominent purples . . .

Orange and gold . . .

Magnificent Magenta . . .

Brilliant Blue . . .

And Luscious Green.

A good time is had by all!

Springtime on Liberty Island.

For the first time in 14 years, I set foot on Liberty Island. Initially, I am not too excited. I'm not too wild about going alone to a place I've already been before. And also, needless to say, the view has changed.

I am welcome by budding trees and overcast skies on my return to Liberty Island.

I walk to the booth and take my audio tour guide. I enter "200" for English and press play. The narrator tells me to walk towards the flagpole, to observe Lady Liberty, with her face pointed out towards the Atlantic, towards Europe. She is walking away from her pedestal. She will walk off the island, into New York Harbor, and across the sea to liberate the Europeans from their kings, queens and emperors.

I am impressed with the history of the Statue of Liberty, but a larger part of me pushes me towards the dock facing Manhattan. I think back to where I was and who I was on the December 9, 2000.

My mother's family is from New York City, and although I had been to New York many times, visiting for entertainment purposes was a rare treat. My dad, and Kyle, my friend from school high school, have one day to explore New York City. We have one semester remaining in high school before we go to college.

Kyle takes the photo. He has a good eye for visuals, the lighting, and the composition. My dad I face the camera, towards the Statue of Liberty. The Twin Towers stand in the background. The photo comes out great, but we won't see it for about another week.

In the photo, I am ecstatic, giddy as a little boy even though, for one of the first times recorded on camera, I am actually taller than my father. I am also surprised to find out that I am pointing towards Jersey City instead of the Twin Towers. Oops. There are no second takes with our single  roll of film. No instant gratification.

I think about how careless I was with that photo. I did make a digital copy, but the hard drive crashed long ago. My parents may have the original in a scrapbook somewhere.

Looking back towards Manhattan, and for me, back towards my past.

I look towards the promenade and I see other people taking pictures of themselves at the exact same spot where my father and I were standing 14 years ago. I think of that day. How an instant two buildings built to last centuries were lost to history in a horror akin to Hiroshima.

The narrator from the tour is still talking. She tells me that the statue is hollow, a major engineering feat for its time. She tells me to look at the base, and the base atop the base. I look with my right eye, but I turn back and look to my left towards lower Manhattan. My left eye begins to water. I try to hold back, but I am powerless. I give in, and with my hand wipe away a single tear.

I compose myself. I continue to walk around Liberty Island on this overcast spring day. A mild breeze is blowing. People are brimming with excitement as they take pictures of themselves on this day, the first time they have ever set foot on Liberty Island. They are ecstatic to see the great statue in person. I see them and smile.

I have come full circle. I hand over my audio tour guide to the booth attendant and board the ferry to Ellis Island. It's getting late when we get there, and I have only half an hour before the last ferry to Manhattan leaves. I tour the great hall, get something for my wife and the gift shop, and take some time to stroll the grounds. From the north side of Ellis Island, I see a single tree. A young tree. A tree that wasn't there 14 years ago. I see the rebirth and take a photo, mindful that I will be more careful this time . . .

Springtime for Ellis Island, looking north towards Manhattan, and forward to the future.

Happy National Agriculture Week!

Okay, this photo is from last harvest season, but I think it gets the point across. Right now It's National Agricultural Week, and good food grown locally makes everybody happy. Up in the northeast, we certainly have some waiting ahead of us, but there is green at the end of the tunnel. 

Nothing puts a smile on your face like fresh food upstate!

It's a good time to get started planning your local produce shopping and seasonal cuisine preparation. If you haven't checked out Epicurious already, you can utilize their handy seasonal food map to let you know what's in season in your state. Nicole and I are looking forward to the rotisserie of fresh fruits, vegetables and leafy greens that will be in peak season all over the northeast. That's good, although looking at this map, we do miss Texas!

There's nothing lonely about the long growing season in the Lone Star state!

How to Report a Gas Leak in New York City

After the recent gas explosion in Harlem, I felt compelled to make a little public service video. I may not be super-cool and famous like James Dean, but I did have the misfortunate of experiencing a gas leak in my New York apartment. Unfortunately, my landlord and I were able to resolve the leak without incident because we contacted Consolidated Edison immediately.

For months, the residents of the buildings in Harlem made the mistake of calling 311, a general information inquiry line, as opposed to calling Consolidated Edison directly. Sadly, when somebody finally did call Con Ed, it was too late--a mere 18 minutes before the deadly explosion leveled two buildings and left nearly a dozen dead. If that phone call had come the night before instead of the morning off, this disaster could have been avoided.

Signs of a gas leak:

• Rotten egg smell
• Dead or discolored vegetation in an otherwise green area
• Dirt and/or dust blowing from a hole in the ground
• Bubbling in wet or flooded areas.
• Blowing or hissing sound

If you witness any of these signs in your home or apartment, please do not hesitate to call Consolidated Edison at 1-800-75-CON-ED (266-33). They will send a crew immediately to shut your gas off. Unfortunately, they will leave you or your landlord with the responsibility to call a certified plumber and fix the leak. So it is good to make friends with a certified plumber. Also, during this time, your friends will certainly include delivery boys, the raw food diet, and the microwave.

A minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

The life you save could be your own.

Hoodies in Flight.

I'm still trying to get the perfect photo of these two, but they are like my cats. As soon as you have the perfect photo lined up, they move. Once you put the camera down, they do something exciting. Sigh.

2013-14 Winter's Greatest Hits

With the first official full day of spring in the books, we can officially close the door on the 2013-14 winter season. Although we may have to get the shovel out at least one more time before April, we can at least entertain ourselves with warm thoughts.

In the meantime, I'll reflect back on some of winter's greatest hits.

Warming up on a cool day.

It's overcast, windy, and cold. In the northeast, that's called the first day of spring.

Okay, it's not that cold, and some South Bronx boys saw vernal equinox as a good opportunity to warm up and get loose.

Leo goes airborne as he rehearses an around-the-horn 5-4-3 double play.

"The gate was open," said Leo, who practiced fielding ground balls at Heritage Field with some of his fellow ballplayers from Bronx Community College. "We're trying to make the team."

We can't all afford a plane ticket to Florida: Long sleeves are standard attire. 

Leo said he although he lives in the neighborhood, he doesn't often get a chance to practice on the original Yankee Stadium ball field.

Few errant throws when your first baseman is as tall as the Chrysler Building.

"We never jump the fence," he said, explaining why. "If the red flags are up, that means that they [Department of Recreation] are doing maintenance. It's a good field, and we want to keep it that way."

 Good luck, guys. Practice and discipline all the hallmark of success. May good luck and fortune carry you the rest of the way.

In the shadows of legends . . . 

Sunset over Mosholu Parkway.

No Photoshop, no editing, no nonsense.

Restaurant Review: Thai Son

Last week, Nicole and I were perusing the Upper East Side looking for one Nicole's favorite Vietnamese restaurants, Veatery. Upon arriving at Veatery's location, we saw a "new" restaurant had opened in its place. I use the term "new" very loosely. The interior was the same, the staff was identical, but the menu had been somewhat Americanized and there were fewer exotic items on the menu. Still a a very good restaurant and dining experience, but the menu change was bittersweet.

Fortunately, New York isn't a one-restaurant town.

Where Chinatown meets downtown, one can still find the genuine article. Thai Son, straddles the western end of Chinatown with the northern end of New York City's municipal row. Just a block away from the infamous "Tombs," one can find both an abundance of bail bond businesses and ethnic restaurants. Nicole and I were walking by when we spotted Thai Son. After our experience uptown, we thought we would give this unassuming location a chance. We were not disappointed.

The menu is quite comprehensive. They even have a frog legs entree in a nod to Vietnam's days as a French colony. Nicole and I went with some more cautious choices, but everything was perfect. The temperature food, the consistency of the rice, the flavor of the spices. How good was it? Nicole said she would share entree. Then she took a bite and reconsidered. 

What about pricing? Yes, people say New York City is expensive. But if you are careful, the cost can be mitigated. And the New York experience is still very rich at a price most people can afford. At Thai Son, Two entrees, one appetizer and two drinks came to less than $35 after tax and tip. Hey, it's cheaper than flying to Saigon!

How to be Irish on Saint Patrick's Day.

March 17th, 1996. My mother is holding a VHS tape in front of my younger sister, Alison, and me. We are 12 and 14 years old respectively. 

"Guess what we are watching today!" She says with a smile and twinkle in her Irish eyes. My jaw dropped. Alison spoke up before I had a chance to voice my identical opposition.

"But Mo-om," protested Alison. "We watch that same tape every year."

The VHS Tape in contention was an animated biography of Saint Patrick. Alison and I found it entertaining the first time we saw it--in the late 1980s. However, our mother is perfect. The multitude of 1/2 Irish, 1/2 Italian novelty mugs, t-shirts and sweaters can't be wrong. Also, she got a 1590 on her SAT. 

Passing the torch: my nephew brings style and flair to the parade.

"I want you to watch it again," she says. And without further debate, she puts the tape into the VCR. 

The animated story had long lost its luster, but at least my sister and I had a better sense of the real man and what he really did as opposed to the childish myth that serious adults cling to, despite ease of just being able to look up Saint Patrick on Wikipedia. 

Here is the condensed version of what is widely agreed upon: Patrick was 16 year-old living in Britain when he as captured by Irish raiders and held as a slave. During this time, he found salvation in his Christian faith. Six years later, Patrick was able to escape back to Britain and re-unite with his family. After studying religion more deeply, Patrick decided to return to Ireland to convert the Irish to the Christianity. 

Some people say Patrick robbed the Irish people of their native religion, but slavery and human sacrifice just weren't that popular compared to Patrick's message of freedom and mercy. It would probably explain the man's overwhelming, enduring popularity, as well as the mythical story that he banished snakes from Ireland (Snakes are widely interpreted as a metaphor for the druids). 

The map of Ireland is on her face, and mine too. Thanks, Mom.

The bottom line is that Saint Patrick was a messenger of love,  and Irish by choice. Pedantic people may say otherwise, but his biography leaves little margin for debate. Being Irish is to love and be loved. Being Irish is to stand up for oppressed people everywhere. Being Irish is to wax poetic, have a good sense of tragedy, and flair to entertain. For some, Irish is something a person is born into. I was brought into this world hearing the poetry of W.B Yeats. For this, and so many other reasons, I am eternally grateful.

But that's just my story. We all can be Irish, and we can do so any and every day of the year. And by the way, if those dimwitted drunkards at the parade could learn how to hold their alcohol in public, that would be a step in the right direction. With that said, Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

A Simple Request

I don't know who left this piece of street art, but I am sure he or she speaks for everyone. Right Nicole?

Nicole is not amused with winter's lingering torment.

Natural New York Book Review: The Last Algonquin, by Theodore Kazimiroff

I loved this book. I couldn't put it down. It started like this:

When I was a boy in 1924, I used to walk from my house in Throggs Neck to the woody hills of Hunter and Twin Islands as often as I could. The area fascinated me because it contained almost all the Flora and Fauna that I had read about in my boy scout manuals . . . I could spend an entire day walking field and shore without seeing another person. I had no idea the reverse was seldom true . . .

One morning in early October of that year, I was on Twin Island. As I walked toward the glacial boulder called "Lion Rock," a figure stepped from behind it into my view . . .  He stood and looked at me for what seemed like quite a long time before he said, "Good day, I am Joe." 

The second thing he said was "I know you very much. You watch all the living things and you do not harm them. Why?

The young Boy Scout explained his desire to earn merit badges and wilderness exploration. Joe quickly understood the similarities between the young boy's natural curiosity about nature and the Algonquin way. A friendship was born.

Aquehonga (Bronx) River, where Joe Two Trees was born and raised.

Theodore Kazimiroff was lucky, because Joe Two Trees, reserved and wary of the white man, let his defenses down and told the boy everything. His story is truly incredible. Joe's story starts and ends in the North Bronx, which was still wilderness in the 1920s. In between is fascination, a sojourn into the city of Manhattan, the farms of Staten Island, and the coal mines of Pennsylvania, and back to New York City. Sadly, Kazimiroff passed away in 1980, but his son, Theodore Kazimiroff, Jr, retold the story from his father's perspective in this book.

It reads well, in due part to Joe's natural talent. The Algonquin aren't just good storytellers, they are great storytellers. Little if any is lost between Joe's original story and the younger Kazimiroff's retelling of it. For example, Joe could recall the exact month and year of British General Howe's invasion of Pelham Bay, and he could recall the exact year when Jonas Bronk settled in the region which now bears his name.

In addition to Joe Two Trees' personal saga, he explains much of his Algonquin religious beliefs. My favorite is a battle that is responsible for the many rocks that plague boats in the East River. The Algonquins said that they joined a fight between the Great Creator, Tchi-Manitou, and the Evil One, Manetto. While Chi-Manitou and the Algonquins say they won the fight, Manetto escaped to long island, and left the rocks in the East River as revenge. Few people of any faith would argue that Lucifer himself resides in Long Island!

Artistic conception of Joe Two Trees

Over thirty years have passed since this book was published and became a national bestseller, and a movie production is just now in the works. When the movie does finally come to fruition, that will be great. But there is no excuse for passing up the opportunity to read this book. Like I said, you can't put it down.

New York City: Where a short walk goes a long way.

Van Corltandt Lake, New York City

Seagulls on the East River

The seagull. A staple of garbage dumps and beach trash everywhere, this waterfowl is actually quite graceful in flight--at least when Nicole has them on camera. On the ground, though, no one can work miracles.

"What?"