I had a moment when I felt like a true New Yorker yesterday.
I finished an old novel by Lawrence Block called, "A Stab in the Dark." It was a juicy little murder mystery that took place in both Manhattan and Brooklyn. As I read the book on the train, I could visualize every location in the book- from Midtown to the streets of Cobble and Boerum Hills. I knew every intersection and almost every building mentioned. At the same time, the book evoked a New York City completely unknown to me. My imagination was stirred by grittier streets where the boutiques of today were replaced by bodegas and the trees on the sidewalks had not yet been planted.
I wonder if, years from now, I will think back on my time here and falsely remember the gentrification of these neighborhoods and think back to the good old days of New York that I never lived except through dime store novels.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
We were young. We needed the money.
It all started in 2005. Kitty and I had been married a little over a year. We were living in Denver while I sang a contract with Opera Colorado. The money was good, but we were still a little short on cash.
Keep in mind, this was before the Greatest Depression that we now live in. Denver was awash with money. There was real estate, arts funding, excessive consumption at Cherry Creek and, most importantly, medical research grants.
After I had finished my contracts, Kitty and I found ourselves very under employed and we were gearing up for a move to New York City. How do you get money quickly?
Kitty's brother, "Dr. Navy", a medical student at the time, found a drug study. We would stay in the hospital for a week, all meals provided, potentially be injected with a "very safe drug" and have our vitals and blood done on a regular basis. Successful completion would mean a thousand bucks each. Initially, we were skeptical but Dr. Navy assured us that the drug was safe and, after all, he was getting married the week after the hospital stay. Would he "really" do it if it wasn't safe?
I initially thought that this would be like a free week at a "all-inclusive." We would have free food and drink and we'd hang out, I'd bring some video games and dvds and relax. Sure, we'd be giving blood every four hours (24 hours a day) but how is that different from recovering from the toxic shock of unlimited drinking at Hedonism?
Well, there are certain differences. For one, we couldn't have caffeine. As you know, Kitty and I met in Seattle and fell in love in the Met Park East Starbucks. The cement that holds the foundation of our relationship together is morning coffee. Second, we couldn't drink alcohol either. I wouldn't compare that to the foundation of our relationship. It's more like a really cool chandelier that you have in your house and you have to have sent away to be repaired. The house loses a bit of light and a little class but is mostly untouched while it is away.
Despite these reservations, we discovered that we would be put up in the new wing of the hospital and provided food from the new chef who took over the commissary. The food wasn't amazing, but it was plentiful and satisfying. We could also order up their 5-star desserts and cookies at breakfast time if we wanted.
After a week of being pampered and only one disturbing incident involving Kitty and a doctor taking blood from her carotid artery because they couldn't find a vein, we walked away with enough money to fund the move to NYC.
So what does all that have to do with New York City? Kitty and I have found that there are little opportunities like this all over. Case in point: Kitty is part of a weekly breastfeeding group in our neighborhood. It is a wonderful support provided by the City government in "at risk" neighborhoods like ours and is provided at no cost. Last week, it was announced that the City was preparing to update their breastfeeding brochures. They were having a photo shoot and moms and babies could come and receive $150 if they participated in the shoot. Husbands and partners could come too and receive their own $150.
Sure enough, we rose to the challenge. We arrived at 9 a.m. with The Peanut in tow. Coffee and pastries were provided and they staged numerous shots of Kitty and The Peanut nursing in various positions. The Peanut cooperated like a champ and the two of them managed to get pictures taken in all four "official positions" and I joined in for some family pictures. Everyone joked that The Peanut was a natural actress following stage directions... only natural for the child of an opera singer! I only hope that it will last through her teenage years.
As it turns out, if they use our pictures we will receive an additional $500. (Perhaps each... we couldn't decipher the contract). Keep your fingers crossed for us!
Keep in mind, this was before the Greatest Depression that we now live in. Denver was awash with money. There was real estate, arts funding, excessive consumption at Cherry Creek and, most importantly, medical research grants.
After I had finished my contracts, Kitty and I found ourselves very under employed and we were gearing up for a move to New York City. How do you get money quickly?
Kitty's brother, "Dr. Navy", a medical student at the time, found a drug study. We would stay in the hospital for a week, all meals provided, potentially be injected with a "very safe drug" and have our vitals and blood done on a regular basis. Successful completion would mean a thousand bucks each. Initially, we were skeptical but Dr. Navy assured us that the drug was safe and, after all, he was getting married the week after the hospital stay. Would he "really" do it if it wasn't safe?
I initially thought that this would be like a free week at a "all-inclusive." We would have free food and drink and we'd hang out, I'd bring some video games and dvds and relax. Sure, we'd be giving blood every four hours (24 hours a day) but how is that different from recovering from the toxic shock of unlimited drinking at Hedonism?
Well, there are certain differences. For one, we couldn't have caffeine. As you know, Kitty and I met in Seattle and fell in love in the Met Park East Starbucks. The cement that holds the foundation of our relationship together is morning coffee. Second, we couldn't drink alcohol either. I wouldn't compare that to the foundation of our relationship. It's more like a really cool chandelier that you have in your house and you have to have sent away to be repaired. The house loses a bit of light and a little class but is mostly untouched while it is away.
Despite these reservations, we discovered that we would be put up in the new wing of the hospital and provided food from the new chef who took over the commissary. The food wasn't amazing, but it was plentiful and satisfying. We could also order up their 5-star desserts and cookies at breakfast time if we wanted.
After a week of being pampered and only one disturbing incident involving Kitty and a doctor taking blood from her carotid artery because they couldn't find a vein, we walked away with enough money to fund the move to NYC.
So what does all that have to do with New York City? Kitty and I have found that there are little opportunities like this all over. Case in point: Kitty is part of a weekly breastfeeding group in our neighborhood. It is a wonderful support provided by the City government in "at risk" neighborhoods like ours and is provided at no cost. Last week, it was announced that the City was preparing to update their breastfeeding brochures. They were having a photo shoot and moms and babies could come and receive $150 if they participated in the shoot. Husbands and partners could come too and receive their own $150.
Sure enough, we rose to the challenge. We arrived at 9 a.m. with The Peanut in tow. Coffee and pastries were provided and they staged numerous shots of Kitty and The Peanut nursing in various positions. The Peanut cooperated like a champ and the two of them managed to get pictures taken in all four "official positions" and I joined in for some family pictures. Everyone joked that The Peanut was a natural actress following stage directions... only natural for the child of an opera singer! I only hope that it will last through her teenage years.
As it turns out, if they use our pictures we will receive an additional $500. (Perhaps each... we couldn't decipher the contract). Keep your fingers crossed for us!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Great places to change diapers in NYC
1. Basement of Baby Gap on 6th Ave. It is a wholly depressing little space. They call it the nursing room. It's like wood veneer is ganging up on you and beating you to a pulp. [there is a joke there somewhere] To say that the design is horribly depressing is an understatement. As my decoration mentor, the Scottsman would say in his very proper British accent and creaky 80-year old voice, "J^&* Ch$%*, it makes me want to gouge out my f&*(^ eyes. Could they at least be bothered to provide ONE comfortable chair?"
2. Babys 'R Us, Union Square. They are totally focused on providing a great place to change your infant. They also try to shake you down for every last penny before you walk out the door. I saw them selling a baby wipe warmer. A wipe warmer? Really? REALLY? As for the decoration? It's fine. The plastic-coated upholstery makes me feel like I'm in some sort of institution of health, but otherwise, it is as boring as all get out.
3. Firefly. I feel sort of bad about this one. We were out with our cousins last weekend and hit Firefly for happy hour after a long day of walking and eating. It was Saturday night and we were the only people in the back room. Since no one was around, I went over to one of the banquettes and changed Millie's diaper. I made it back to my seat before my beer got warm. The closest thing to diaper-changing perfection that I've ever had. The decor was a cool, slick, NYC-sports bar look. There were great light fixtures and the poor back bartender was a good sport about chucking the dirty diaper. I think it is safe to say he's never had to deal with that before. Unfortunately, considering the number of guests there on a Saturday night, I fear this little gem may disappear from the Soho firmament before long.
2. Babys 'R Us, Union Square. They are totally focused on providing a great place to change your infant. They also try to shake you down for every last penny before you walk out the door. I saw them selling a baby wipe warmer. A wipe warmer? Really? REALLY? As for the decoration? It's fine. The plastic-coated upholstery makes me feel like I'm in some sort of institution of health, but otherwise, it is as boring as all get out.
3. Firefly. I feel sort of bad about this one. We were out with our cousins last weekend and hit Firefly for happy hour after a long day of walking and eating. It was Saturday night and we were the only people in the back room. Since no one was around, I went over to one of the banquettes and changed Millie's diaper. I made it back to my seat before my beer got warm. The closest thing to diaper-changing perfection that I've ever had. The decor was a cool, slick, NYC-sports bar look. There were great light fixtures and the poor back bartender was a good sport about chucking the dirty diaper. I think it is safe to say he's never had to deal with that before. Unfortunately, considering the number of guests there on a Saturday night, I fear this little gem may disappear from the Soho firmament before long.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Grand Theft Baby
Well, as you probably know, we have recently added a little girl to our family. She arrived on December 8, 2008. The days leading up to her birth were filled with many unique experiences as we began to prepare ourselves for discovering a new aspect of NYC.
Studying up
Baby classes in NYC, or I suppose any major city, were far different than our friends from the suburbs described.
Our class took place at 49th Street and 9th in Hell's Kitchen. A storefront, filled with $800 strollers and organic baby clothes (wait... does she wear them or eat them?) and large circular couch in purple velvet narrowed in the back where two classrooms had flat screen televisions and hardwood floors. A staircase led down to the prenatal yoga studio. The walls were exposed red brick and hanging near the top of the double high ceilings were five-foot tall, black and white artistic posters of smiling babies being held by multi-cultural mothers and the occasion stray nipple.
Our classmates were a motley bunch. Ken and Barbie were of the flawless, upper-east side variety. Type-A Couple were composed of a malpractice attorney (our midwife teacher visibly cringed) and a mother who described herself as "completely unafraid and ready for an orgasmic birth." There was a doctor ("Are you going to deliver the baby?" our teacher asked. "No, I'm a pathologist.") who was married to a lawyer. One dad worked at the biggest art auction house in the city and he and his wife live in Brooklyn Heights. They were probably the only couple that we could say that we'd LOVE to go out to beers with sometime. One of his many zingers in class was, "I'm still trying to get my mind around the concept of an epidural. Please... don't even SPEAK to me about episiotomies." One dad looked like Elvis and his wife made cookies with spelt flour that were totally delicious.
**********
Our teacher asked us, "How are you getting to the hospital?" Ken and Barbie said, "We're probably going to walk."
"How many blocks?" the teacher asked.
"4 blocks."
"Streets or Avenues?"
"Don't worry... streets."
"That should work out. If you are thinking of taking the train to give birth, I really wouldn't recommend it. Can you imagine being stuck in a metal tube under a river giving birth? And please, Dads, make sure you have cash on hand for a car service or taxi. Really, nothing will piss of your wife as she is in labor if you have to ask the driver to pull off at an ATM for cash."
***********
"Partners, you should consider scrubbing out the tub so that your wives can take a nice bath. It really makes a difference for the mom and relieves stress and can reduce the strain on her back." Ken and Barbie's eyes drift off into space. So do Type-A couple. It seems they had never scrubbed a tub in their life. You see, that is what "the help" is for.
***********
"Why on earth would we need spend a hundred bucks to buy a car seat? We don't even own a car!" said one father.
"Because the hospital won't let you walk home after giving birth," said the teacher. "You'll never use it again, but you'll need it for the first taxi ride home."
***********
The Obligatory Birth Story
We had planned to drive to the Birth Center when Kitty went into labor and on the eighth, as I was sitting at my desk sipping my 10:15 cup of coffee, she called to say that her water had broken as she was doing yoga. Since she wasn't having any contractions, the midwife said to just relax and hang out and because it will take awhile. The midwife even said that I could stay at the office for a little while and wrap things up.
I left at 12 o'clock after checking in with Kitty-- still no contractions. She had ordered pizza and we were going to have as soon as I arrived. I was surprisingly calm, even though the train was incredibly slow with occasional random stops between stations. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to get home. Arriving home, the pizza was waiting and Kitty was just hanging out. No contractions yet so we hung out, chatted and ate. I had versions of a quiet, calm birth. Where Kitty felt no pain. Perhaps I was hoping a stork would really end up delivering the baby to us.
When she felt her first "twinge," the time was 1:50 p.m. Immediately, the contractions were three minutes apart but very mild. We checked in with the midwife and she said to relax and have Kitty take a shower since the contractions were only frequent but not strong.
As Kitty got out of the shower, the contractions started getting stronger. They still weren't bad but we figured they weren't slowing down so we should just hop in the car and go.
Then everything went completely and totally insane.
I had packed the car and helped Kitty into the passenger seat. She popped the seat back and all of a sudden she started groaning. The time was 3:50 p.m. As we travelled through the streets of Brooklyn, the contractions got stronger and stronger. Soon she was wailing at regular intervals. She was clammy and pale and was gasping for breath between her groans.
************
At this point, I'd like to point out that the time was about 4 p.m. What happens at 4 p.m. in Brooklyn? Children get out of school. And how do they get home in Brooklyn? Via School Bus.
**************
Considering the groans eminating from my wife, I'm faced with a choice, do I pass those school buses, with their stop signs and flashing red lights? If I do, I risk the lives of my neighbors children. If not, I may end up assisting her in delivery on the side of Ocean Avenue.
I do what any good geek would do. I breathe deeply and and stay calm and focused, just as Master Yoda taught me. I cut around the buses as soon as their stop signs retract and the lights stop flashing. Niko Bellic taught me that hitting pedestrians causes the cops to chase you.
As I pulled up to the birth center, I realized that I needed to pull a u-turn across 4 lanes of traffic. I think it might be the first time Kitty really responded... "Why are we stopping?" Still in my zen-like state I said, "We need to pull a u-ie... I'm just waiting for a safe opportunity." The time was 4:20 p.m. By the time she made it up the short flight of stairs and into the room, she was told they could see the head so start pushing. At 4:50 p.m., our daughter arrived.
Studying up
Baby classes in NYC, or I suppose any major city, were far different than our friends from the suburbs described.
Our class took place at 49th Street and 9th in Hell's Kitchen. A storefront, filled with $800 strollers and organic baby clothes (wait... does she wear them or eat them?) and large circular couch in purple velvet narrowed in the back where two classrooms had flat screen televisions and hardwood floors. A staircase led down to the prenatal yoga studio. The walls were exposed red brick and hanging near the top of the double high ceilings were five-foot tall, black and white artistic posters of smiling babies being held by multi-cultural mothers and the occasion stray nipple.
Our classmates were a motley bunch. Ken and Barbie were of the flawless, upper-east side variety. Type-A Couple were composed of a malpractice attorney (our midwife teacher visibly cringed) and a mother who described herself as "completely unafraid and ready for an orgasmic birth." There was a doctor ("Are you going to deliver the baby?" our teacher asked. "No, I'm a pathologist.") who was married to a lawyer. One dad worked at the biggest art auction house in the city and he and his wife live in Brooklyn Heights. They were probably the only couple that we could say that we'd LOVE to go out to beers with sometime. One of his many zingers in class was, "I'm still trying to get my mind around the concept of an epidural. Please... don't even SPEAK to me about episiotomies." One dad looked like Elvis and his wife made cookies with spelt flour that were totally delicious.
**********
Our teacher asked us, "How are you getting to the hospital?" Ken and Barbie said, "We're probably going to walk."
"How many blocks?" the teacher asked.
"4 blocks."
"Streets or Avenues?"
"Don't worry... streets."
"That should work out. If you are thinking of taking the train to give birth, I really wouldn't recommend it. Can you imagine being stuck in a metal tube under a river giving birth? And please, Dads, make sure you have cash on hand for a car service or taxi. Really, nothing will piss of your wife as she is in labor if you have to ask the driver to pull off at an ATM for cash."
***********
"Partners, you should consider scrubbing out the tub so that your wives can take a nice bath. It really makes a difference for the mom and relieves stress and can reduce the strain on her back." Ken and Barbie's eyes drift off into space. So do Type-A couple. It seems they had never scrubbed a tub in their life. You see, that is what "the help" is for.
***********
"Why on earth would we need spend a hundred bucks to buy a car seat? We don't even own a car!" said one father.
"Because the hospital won't let you walk home after giving birth," said the teacher. "You'll never use it again, but you'll need it for the first taxi ride home."
***********
The Obligatory Birth Story
We had planned to drive to the Birth Center when Kitty went into labor and on the eighth, as I was sitting at my desk sipping my 10:15 cup of coffee, she called to say that her water had broken as she was doing yoga. Since she wasn't having any contractions, the midwife said to just relax and hang out and because it will take awhile. The midwife even said that I could stay at the office for a little while and wrap things up.
I left at 12 o'clock after checking in with Kitty-- still no contractions. She had ordered pizza and we were going to have as soon as I arrived. I was surprisingly calm, even though the train was incredibly slow with occasional random stops between stations. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to get home. Arriving home, the pizza was waiting and Kitty was just hanging out. No contractions yet so we hung out, chatted and ate. I had versions of a quiet, calm birth. Where Kitty felt no pain. Perhaps I was hoping a stork would really end up delivering the baby to us.
When she felt her first "twinge," the time was 1:50 p.m. Immediately, the contractions were three minutes apart but very mild. We checked in with the midwife and she said to relax and have Kitty take a shower since the contractions were only frequent but not strong.
As Kitty got out of the shower, the contractions started getting stronger. They still weren't bad but we figured they weren't slowing down so we should just hop in the car and go.
Then everything went completely and totally insane.
I had packed the car and helped Kitty into the passenger seat. She popped the seat back and all of a sudden she started groaning. The time was 3:50 p.m. As we travelled through the streets of Brooklyn, the contractions got stronger and stronger. Soon she was wailing at regular intervals. She was clammy and pale and was gasping for breath between her groans.
************
At this point, I'd like to point out that the time was about 4 p.m. What happens at 4 p.m. in Brooklyn? Children get out of school. And how do they get home in Brooklyn? Via School Bus.
**************
Considering the groans eminating from my wife, I'm faced with a choice, do I pass those school buses, with their stop signs and flashing red lights? If I do, I risk the lives of my neighbors children. If not, I may end up assisting her in delivery on the side of Ocean Avenue.
I do what any good geek would do. I breathe deeply and and stay calm and focused, just as Master Yoda taught me. I cut around the buses as soon as their stop signs retract and the lights stop flashing. Niko Bellic taught me that hitting pedestrians causes the cops to chase you.
As I pulled up to the birth center, I realized that I needed to pull a u-turn across 4 lanes of traffic. I think it might be the first time Kitty really responded... "Why are we stopping?" Still in my zen-like state I said, "We need to pull a u-ie... I'm just waiting for a safe opportunity." The time was 4:20 p.m. By the time she made it up the short flight of stairs and into the room, she was told they could see the head so start pushing. At 4:50 p.m., our daughter arrived.
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