From the desert of Morocco to the Streets of New York City: Love and Energy

NEW YORK CITY, October 1-7, 2019

My NY memory collage, a grid of many of the photos I took. NYC street scenes; public art; the High Line parkway; Times Square & Shubert Theatre, where we saw "To Kill a Mockingbird;" friends Doris & Linda in NYC, and Alice in Teaneck. 

I was scheduled for a week in New York City about 6 days after getting back from a long-planned trip to Morocco.  Linda, Doris and I had talked about it at a happy hour at Ciao's, and by the time we left there, Linda had actually made plane reservations. Only $149 each. We were in heaven.  I didn't think about how close one trip was to the other. It was all good.

The trip to Morocco came and went, and it was fabulous. The thing is, the minute our plane from Casablanca/Paris hit the ground in Detroit, really, the minute we landed, I got sick. A bout of the chills hit me hard as I gathered my luggage, and I was a goner.  I had a fever and I shook all the way home from the Detroit airport to Sylvania.

I suffered not only from crummy flu symptoms but also from the thought I might not make it to New York. I prayed every day for the bug to go away. It was slow going, but it did get better by the day of departure. I felt good to go. Not 100%, but good to go.

Doris and Linda in NYC.

So off I went with Doris and Linda to New York City. We stayed at Doris' apartment in Chelsea, a great location. The first four days were fantastic. Walks, restaurants, the Rubin Museum of Art, "To Kill a Mockingbird."

The gallery with the "Clapping with Stones" exhibit featured a
ceiling filled with tightly woven red straw flower buds. Beautiful.
That neon art  (top middle photo) sits at the entrance to the
 Museum, not sure why, but it's a wonderful piece of art. 

I'd never been to the Rubin Museum, which is why I was excited to go there. My motto is learn something new every day.  I'm not sure I grasped the Rubin's mission, connecting Himalyan life, Tibetan Buddhism and art with contemporary life, but it was different and interesting. In addition to the permanent collection (we took a docent-led tour), we got to see a new exhibit, "Clapping with Stones." It's an eclectic mix of artifacts, art, and text, even an American history installation, focusing on the nature and power of resistance. The Rubin also has a fabulous cafe with yummy natural and fresh salads (worth going just for lunch) and a nice Museum shop, where I couldn't resist getting a pretty table runner with Buddha symbols on it. I'm a big fan of Museum shops.

Along the High Line, overlooking the city, art and gardens,
interesting buildings along the way. "I'm fine kids!" 

Next came "Mockingbird," a great production and always exciting to be on Broadway. After that, I looked forward to a visit to the High Line parkway the next day. It was Friday, October 4, and the day started out just fine.

I walked to the High Line under sunny skies, several city blocks up to 8th Avenue and 23rd Street. I climbed the steps, walked the 1.5 mile path of what used to be a railroad line, back and forth, slowly, taking it all in. I took lots of photos, enjoyed every moment, every scene, the gardens, the sculpture, the art, even the resistance items in an apartment window.  It was a New York montage. I held up my sign, "Hi Kids, I'm fine," and I meant it.


But, by the time I made it back to Doris' apartment, things changed. My sinuses were plugged up, my chest congested, my voice dim, and I was coughing up a storm.

Geez. Not good, because Linda was scheduled for heart surgery in less than a week, and she could not afford to get sick.  She was adamant and I was confused for a moment. My cough got worse on the spot. What should I do? What could I do? I decided to call friend Alice in NJ. We were scheduled to get together on Sunday; she was coming into the City and we were going to the Tenement Museum and maybe the Jewish Museum. Instead, I asked if I could come there now, today, this minute. I think I said I had a cold and had to leave Doris' apartment. Actually I don't remember what I said.  Fortunately, Alice said yes.

Alice at home

I packed it up in ten minutes and was out the door of the Chelsea apartment in a kind of haze. I took a cab to the humongous NY Port Authority and found my way to the bus to Teaneck, NJ, thanks to Alice's good directions. I was overjoyed to see her waiting to pick me up. It was just wonderful, as always, to be with this dearest friend from Madison days, this brilliant poet and master teacher. We share so much: our graduate student years as young women, a common history and great stories, experiences over the life cycle, wide-ranging interests. We take up where we leave off.

But I felt miserable, and I felt even worse about bringing my cold with me. When Alice started having a scratchy throat, I fell to my knees in prayer. Keep Alice healthy.

By the time I left to return home, Alice was coming down with the damn cold. It was small consolation that this bug is going around everywhere. I had made Alice sick.

It's a week later and I still have the cough. So does Alice. We commiserate on the phone and she is especially gracious, kind. I feel guilty. I thank the goddess for such a dear friend. "Please get her healthy right away."

I can think a little more about NYC now. There is something special  about being there, the energy, the love. The theater.  Ah yes. "To Kill a Mockingbird."

Atticus defending Tom Robinson (Obenga Akinnago).
Actually this is an unusual photo of the two men,
because Tom's back was toward the audience almost
the whole play. I remember feeling uncomfortable with that. 

What did I think of it, Alice asked me.  A fascinating production, I thought. A simple set, a front porch, a courtroom, the props moved about by the actors themselves. Somber lighting. Jeff Daniels a gifted actor, a fantastic Atticus Finch, reflective but not brooding, sensitive but not demonstrative, skeptical but not pessimistic. Gregory Peck's Atticus is a tough act to follow, but Daniels saved his soul and I thought added more dimension to him. A more modern Atticus, reviewers noted.

The heart of this "Mockingbird," however, written by Aaron Sorkin (how courageous!) does not belong to Atticus as much as to his undaunted, unrestrained, fearless daughter Scout, along with her brother Jem and their friend Dill. Scout's the narrator, the conscience, the one who asks questions, who voices the injustice, the outrage. Atticus plays off Scout, and Scout is relentless, unrestrained, uninhibited. I also like that Calpurnia, the Finches' housekeeper, has a stronger voice in this updated production, and she's not afraid to share it with Atticus. There's a kind of mutual respect between them that's refreshing.

In some ways I'm still in New York. Maybe it's the lingering cough. Mostly it's the lingering memories. They'll keep me going until my next trip to a city that never disappoints, always brings new discoveries, always beckons. When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ukraine we used to say "if it's a bad experience, it's a good story." I feel that way about the quick turn around from Morocco to NYC.  I'll remember the story more than the bad experience, and I won't stop believing that travel is the best teacher of all and worth whatever effort it takes.

Reviews:
https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/to-kill-a-mockingbird-broadway-sorkin-review-travers-769996/

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/13/theater/to-kill-a-mockingbird-review-jeff-daniels.html