Ye Olde Reenactment

by Jeanne chinard ••• I’ve never been a fan of Star Trek Conventions or Civil War reenactments, so when we saw the notice for the 26^th Annual Medieval Fair at the Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park, my first instinct was to run screaming in the opposite direction. But since being open to other things is one of the things we do, we thought we should give it a chance. (Sans embroidered gown and wimple.) ••• On a crisp, sunny October day the park was magical, and as soon as we walked in we encountered a beautiful white unicorn. We continued down the path, surrounded by a curious collection of jesters, jousters, knights, kings, queens, wizards, merry men and merry women - some dressed in accurate medieval garb and others who were just in a Halloween mood. ••• We expected to see live demonstrations of medieval weaving, weapon making and musical instruments - and we did - but many of the booths were taken up by food and drink, including one for Dunkin Donuts. (I had no idea that the jelly donut originated in the Middle Ages.) At least, Master Bunting’s House of Ye Olde Fried Dough was historically accurate. No, really. ••• We watched an enthusiastic game of Harry Potter’s Quidditch, which has become a wildly popular (and serious) sport for thousands of high school and college students around the world. We also got a chance to mingle with Lord of the Rings devotees, listen to Gregorian Chants and watch a performance of The Canterbury Tales. The highlight for us was listening to the band Karpathos perform haunting Sephardic and Ladino ballads from the 13th & 14th century. That was closely followed by the thrill I got standing six inches away from two fiercely proud falcons. ••• Some of the fair offerings were delightful and authentic, while some, such as the Earl of Sandwich food wraps, were…oh well.  But the children were obviously having great fun, as were most of the adults. ••• And I guess that’s the point. Once I let go of my cynicism, I could see that the festival was fulfilling a basic human need.  Because the truth is, in spite of our abundant cyber-social connections, people still need to meet face to face, in the real, not virtual, world. Finding a group of like-minded people who share your interests and passions and then joining them in a celebration can be truly rewarding. Quirky is fun. Being able to let your inner quirk fly with people you trust, even better. 

Duck and Cover

by cfmullen ••• "Duck and cover, children, duck and cover." I dove under my desk and put my arms on the top of my head and tossed a giggle to the girl under the next desk. ••• "Quiet!" a pair of ugly black shoes and thick ankles demanded. “Children, this is serious.” ••• Even as a first-grader, the absurdity of this drill didn’t escape me. To survive a nuclear blast:  squat under your desk with your head between your legs. Piece o’ cake. ••• On a recent Sunday morning, I was walking down a street in Inwood when I spotted an old fallout sign on the front of a building. And KABOOM, just like that, I was a seven-year-old hunched under my desk. ••• This sign is a graphic masterpiece: three triangles in a circle, yellow and black, awesome typography. It is simple, compelling, and became a unique symbol of both fear and reassurance. (Credit a guy from the Army Corp of Engineers named Robert Blakey and a graphic arts firm named Blair Inc. for the iconic design, and credit the website Conelrad for digging up all that info.) ••• During the coldest days of the cold war, we lived in a walk-up apartment in the Bronx. And no one was worried about the A Bomb or the Commies or digging a fallout shelter in the backyard; we worried about paying the rent. However, I do distinctly remember the day that Gus, my building’s super, stood on his ladder inspecting the fallout shelter sign that had just been installed on the front of our building.  ••• "Gus, so where's the shelter?" I asked him. Because I hadn't seen anyone building or digging a shelter and the women who sat in lawn chairs in front of the building “knew nothing about no fallout shelter. ” And they knew everything about everything. ••• Gus winked and motioned towards the cellar. "Chuck. Don't worry. It's there," he said in his thick German accent. ••• But I knew that the only things that were in our cellar were ash cans, rusted bikes and the occasional mouse. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that the sign was no more than a grown-up version of Duck and Cover. ••• "Gus, is it big enough for everybody in the building, even my dog?" I asked. ••• "Don't forget about my dog," Gus chuckled to himself as he got down from the ladder. ••• Gus's dog, Fritz, was the biggest, most ferocious dog I’d ever seen. Fritz lived behind a huge wooden fence in the building’s back alley. He growled and barked and scratched at the fence ferociously when anyone came near. I wasn't afraid of the Russians, but I was terrified of Fritz. ••• The propagandists of the day did their best to scare us into believing that a Soviet nuclear attack was imminent. At the same time, they tried to reassure us that tin signs and wooden desks could protect us and keep us safe. ••• Gus, Fritz and the Soviet Union are gone, but a couple of weathered and faded fallout shelter signs and a couple of thousand nuclear weapons are still around.

Doing Other Things. In other places.

It was a series of circumstances, some foreseen and some not, that took us to a crossroad in our lives. Once there, we found that there were no directions to tell us how to proceed - even on the internet. So, we spent a year filled with starts and stops, with bouts of indecision and doubt, trying to figure out the right thing to do. Finally, we decided that the only way to go was to follow our own advice and start doing other things. ••• So now we say farewell to Martha’s Vineyard, a place where things are sometimes hectic (Summer) sometimes exhilarating (Autumn) sometimes challenging (Winter) and often fleeting (Spring) but always, always beautiful.••• And we say hello to Manhattan. ••• A recent trip was all we needed to convince us that New York was the place we want to be. We kayaked on the Hudson River on a Sunday and began looking for an apartment on the following Monday. ••• Moving is traumatic, exhausting, and emotional.  But it is also invigorating. We had more fun and more fights than we’ve had in years. We also learned some cool tips about setting up an apartment, picking the right colors, choosing blinds and shelves – all without spending a ton of money. ••• It was crazy finding the right place (where, how big, how much) moving our stuff out of storage (keep, toss, give away, yikes) and setting up an apartment – but finally, we found our new home. (We’d like to give special thanks to Jocelyn Gould Turken of Warburg Realty http://www.warburgrealty.com/agent/JGT for helping us find our new place.  We greatly appreciated her professionalism and enthusiasm and we unequivocally recommend her services if you are looking to buy or rent an apartment in Manhattan.) ••• We’ve moved everything but our IPS to NYC, or more precisely, to the upper, upper, upper Westside of Manhattan. The neighborhood where Riverside Drive, Hamilton Heights, and Washington Heights converge is now the spot that we call home.  We are already reveling in long walks by the Hudson River, crimson sunsets, Latin culture and the 1 train. We love this neighborhood so much, we may never go south of 157th street again. ••• We set up this web site because we believe that you have to continue to set goals, meet new challenges and believe in the future, no matter how old you may be or how much money you have in the bank. We recognize that we are not spring chickens. But we’re proud of the fact that we’re not chicken, either. ••• This next year will be challenging for us. There will be times that we may get overwhelmed and frustrated by things that life throws our way, but we will not let those hiccups deter us from reaching our potential or enjoying the ride. Nor will we be timid to share with you both our highs and our lows. ••• We hope you will join us for some beautiful walks, internet finds, inspirational people and guest posts.  And welcome – to our new place.

Jeanne Chinard & C Mullen

river dance

by cfmullen ••• I don’t know how many times I bemoaned the change of New York, the horrible gentrification and homogenization of it. But this Sunday, as I sat in a kayak on the Hudson River at 68^th street, all I wanted to do was celebrate the transformation I saw around me. Because this was not the Hudson River of my youth, where the only thing that paddled in the water were three-foot long, rodents. ••• Sitting there, I wanted to say thank you to the person or people responsible for all of this dramatic and wonderful change. ••• I wanted to shout out to all those latte drinkers in the café on the promenade that they didn’t know how lucky they were to enjoy this new and improved Hudson River. ••• I wished Joseph Mitchell, who wrote so caringly about this city and its people, and Phillip Johnson, who built here with such ferocity, were still around to see how vibrant and alive their beloved river has become. I wish my father, who swam off the 26^th street pier, could jump in this water instead of that putrid mess that he dove into. ••• The rebirth of this river is proof that regulation, and committed enforcement of those regulations is the only way to insure the preservation our natural resources. In 1972, the Clean Water Act (CWA) made it illegal to dump pollutants into our waterways. This law gave citizen groups like Riverkeeper, the right to sue corporations in order to stop them from fouling the river. Today, would our politicians have the integrity and the foresight to pass such a decisive and effective law? ••• So if you’re a biker, a stroller, a jogger, a skater, a dog walker, a kayaker, a tanner, a ball player, a picnicker, or sightseer, you may want to come down by the river and admire the achievements of the Friends of the Hudson River. It is a tasteful place, with its ornamental grasses and architecturally pleasant walks and piers. I particularly enjoyed the huge rusted iron structures that jut out of the water and look more like modern sculpture than ancient ruins.  And by the way the kayaking is free on Saturday and Sunday.

fan of the fan

by cfmullen ••• I am a design fanatic. I root for it.
I stand up on my seat and cheer when given a reason
and I boo and sneer when I see something that stinks.
Bad pun alert: the new Dyson Air Multiplier blew me away.
You may want to buy for its aesthetics alone.
Obliviously no blades,
but voodoo engineering pushes a smooth breeze
to help allay those dog days of summer.
Check out the YouTube of Dyson explaining the logistics. 
If you are like me, you’ll display the fanless fan proudly,
and rationalize the haughty price by calling it a moving sculpture
that happens to blow a cool wind your way.