Welcome! I hope I bring a spot of calm and happiness into these uncertain times. I blog about my photography adventures, flowers, gardening, the importance of chocolate in a well lived life, or anything else on my mind.
It is Thursday but I am blogging about Skywatch Friday, normally the meme I participate in each Friday.
Why am I watching the sky today? Because tomorrow is Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, and I did not want to make a combination post. Next week, I will return with another ThursdayTreeLove post.
Foggy skies are common this time of year in upstate New York.
At the beginning of a senior walk/run event I participated in Saturday, the people ahead of me at the start disappeared into the fog.
Some of the trail we walked on as we raced. Leave it to me to take pictures during a race.
And, at the end (actually taken before the beginning of the race), the finish line awaited.
Fog can make for some beautiful pictures.
Join other bloggers at #SkywatchFriday, where you can see pictures of the sky from all over the world. Even on a Thursday.
It's the 13th of the month, two days after September 11, the grimmest day of the United States calendar. And, oh yes, I'm one of the unlucky people hacked in the Equifax hacking event.
Should I mention North Korea?
Have you ever wondered how TV media has planned for their last broadcast? We are so close to the brink, closer than we have been in years. It's not a pleasant thought.
It isn't just CNN that has prepared a "treat" for its end of the world listeners. The BBC has an "end of the world" broadcast script (see end of the above video).
And John Oliver, the wonderful British comedian I love so much, has his own End of the World video, narrated by Martin Sheen.
No, it's not a funny subject, and no one (well, most people, I hope) wants to see doomsday come any time soon. But, faced with life today, I think what we need is a good laugh. So, perhaps CNN should rethink that grainy U.S. Army band playing Nearer My God to Thee video.
An end of the world cat video would be so much better.
And never needing that video would be the best thing of all.
September 11 memorial, Putnam Valley, New York. 9-11-16
Those of my generation will never forget.
Steel Girder from World Trade Center - South Carolina State Museum
Today, September 11, 2017, we pause to mark events that took the lives of over 3,000 innocents on September 11, 2001. The World Trade Center. The Pentagon. Flight 93, crashed by its passengers so the terrorists could not use it as a further weapon that day.
And not just Americans. Hundreds of citizens of other countries died on our soil that day. That's an important thing to remember - we were not alone in our suffering. The suffering has continued daily, for all these years - thousands and thousands from all over the world.
When I think of September 11, I think of someone who had worked at my company. This man lost his son (and, several years later, his other son died by suicide). It wasn't just a son who worked in the North Tower who died that day.
By no stretch of the imagination was my suffering anything like the suffering of those directly affected. Many of my readers have their own, powerful stories. Today, let us come together to continue our healing process.
Music has a powerful ability to provide a message, and to heal. Here are some 9/11 related songs I'd like to share with you.
I will start with a song that's now a classic - Alan Jackson with "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)".
My son, some years ago, introduced me to a group called Dream Theatre. This live version of the song, Sacrificed Sons, talks
about the 9/11 attacks (note, this is a long video).
The Rising - Bruce Springsteen
This, the first song by a group My Chemical Romance, was written by a witness to the attack on the World Trade Center and the fall of the twin towers.
For the final song, I'd first like to quote from the interview above with Gabi, the son of someone from my high school who died on 9/11, as described above. “Some people believe in God or the greater power,” says Gabi “I
believe that the ones close to you that we’ve lost are there to help
you, watching every step you take.”
Gabi and his mother also described, in the above interview, how they would scream out the words to the Imagine Dragons song "Demons". I thought I would end this blog post with Gabi's choice of song.
Come join this blog hop and help us commemorate this day many of us will remember for the rest of our lives.
Yesterday, for the first time, I participated in a Senior Walking and Running Festival.
About 175 senior participated in this event, sponsored by the Office of Aging, a major provider of assisted living/other types of housing for seniors, and others. Some of the participants were upwards of 85-89 years old (the highest division).
The starting and finish line
It was foggy out there on the Vestal Rail Trail, when the race started at 8am.
Off we went, into the fog. There was a 1 mile walk and run, and a 5K walk and run. My spouse and I chose to compete in the 5K. This was our first certified 5K walking event, although we have exercise walked for years.
The foggy trail stretched ahead of us.
Eventually, it started to brighten up, with sun glistening on the leaves.
We passed the Traci's Hope memorial. Traci Gibson was a woman, diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 31, married with three young children Her boys were six, four, and five months old. Traci had everything to live for. Sadly, Traci passed away at the age of 38, but many continue the organization she started to help men (yes, men) and women with breast cancer.
We completed the race in a little over 50 minutes. To my amazement, I came in fourth in my division (because of some back issues, I wasn't walking as fast as I could) and my spouse came in third in his division (he hung back for most of the race to walk with me).
After all the awards were given out (basically, if you showed up you got a medal), we all toasted our participation with sparkling grape juice. The spokesman for the organizer toasted us, hoping we all would have many finish lines to cross in the future.
That is my wish for you, my dear reader, today - a long and happy life, with many events to celebrate.
When I arrived in downtown Binghamton, New York, where I work on September 1, it was obvious this would not be a normal workday.
Streets were closed.
Windows of vacant buildings (we still have too many of them downtown) were covered with white sheets, among them a building that used to be a bank. Let's call this the Old Bank Building.
And a building that used to be our Carnegie public library, until 2000. Let's call this the Library.
In a matter of hours they would be transformed for a few short hours, from vacant buildings to works of art.
As the hour of 9pm struck, upwards of 20,000 to 25,000 people (in a city of around 47,000) gathered for the show. In its third year, the event is called LUMA, and Binghamton is now attracting artists in this medium from around the world.
It always takes place on the first Friday night in September, when art galleries and restaurants downtown are open for First Friday. It was so wonderful to see Binghamton come alive.
Behold the Old Bank Building.
The name of the show on the Old Bank Building was "We Stand on the Shoulders of the Past".
A video from You Tube.
As for the library, it was then its turn.
It transformed again and again.
Projections on the library, from You Tube.
My video (not as good as the first one) but it better shows the crowd.
This was all "run" by the Wizard of LUMA.
The Wizard interacted with the crowd in real time. But, like the Wizard of Oz, there was only a real man (the man on the right side) behind the curtain.
By using old buildings for art, we, in a way, also stand on the shoulders of the past.
But I can only hope that, next year, the vacant buildings (these weren't the only projections) won't be vacant.
Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the launch of Voyager I, to explore the outer planets. Voyager I is still active, and still reporting back to NASA with its data. In fact, NASA had run a contest for the best under 60-character message to send to Voyager, and the message was read by Captain Kirk....I mean, actor William Shatner.
"We offer friendship across the stars.. You are not alone." was the message.
We are raising a generation of children who, if they survive their parents trying to destroy our planet, may well be the generation who makes contact with non-Earth life.
And how would they have learned?
Maybe through a garden that teaches friendship...
Or to welcome others into your life?
Children who have learned to measure themselves?
...while they stop and take a seat?
They would have learned to stop and sniff the flowers.
But maybe, just maybe, our children and grandchildren will be the ones who walk on other planets, exploring distant planets and solar systems. That is, if we, their parents and grandparents, allow themselves to grow up by not blowing up the world.
I have to be optimistic, though, that we will make it and have a next generation of Voyager, and, maybe, one day, a real Star Trek.
"Play is the highest form of research" - Albert Einstein
We don't always treasure what is in our own (so to speak) backyards. Nor do we adults play enough.
When my son was young, we sometimes used to take him to a local interactive children's museum called the Discovery Center in the small upstate city of Binghamton, New York. In the year he was a senior in high school, the Junior League and other non profits helped to build a Story Garden outside the building. But I never went to see it. In fact, I haven't been to this museum in close to 20 years.
It's funny how I can tour things hundreds of miles from where I live but ignore sights 15 minutes from where I live. Are you like that, too?
Yesterday, I happened to stop nearby for an outdoor concert, walked through the garden, and saw what I was missing.
The entrance.
Welcome to the Story Garden!
Wouldn't you love a secret hideaway?
Or interact with a butterfly?
How about a storyhouse?
Storyhouses, book gardens, and more, await children of all ages at this Story Garden. Many have educational components, where children can play with the alphabet, interact with a sundial, learn about clouds and gardening, measure themselves, and more.
More tomorrow, because this garden deserves more than one post.
For many, Labor Day (today, in the United States) is the end of summer. Perhaps not according to meterologists, or astronomers, but it is for many of us. Children in our area (our back to school is about the last in the United States) go back to school this week.
It's a month of endings. The days of carefree summer, when things seem more relaxed, are over. Summer romances end for teenagers. For many, we once again mourn September 11, which I will blog about more next week.
Today, I feature songs about September, and songs about the end of summer on Music Moves Me.
I think Chad and Jeremy would certainly agree with me with their 1964 hit, A Summer Song: "And when the rain beats against my window pane, I'll think of summer days, and dream of you...."
Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day, is about the death of the writer's father - and means a lot to me, as my childhood best friend also passed away in September. To many more, it is a paean to those who died on 9/11. Perhaps I should feature it again on my 9/11 music post.
Night Moves, by Bob Segar, is about lost love, but also a song about the passage of time.
Speaking of September and endings, yesterday we were informed of the death of Walter Becker of the band Steely Dan, at the age of 67. This was an ending that I never expected. I blogged about Becker yesterday.
Today, I feature a song, Deacon Blues, from 1977. From the Album Aja, this song is about a boy who dreams of being a jazz musician.
Come join this blog hop -it's almost as much fun as summer was.
Today we mourn the death of bassist-guitarist musician, songwriter, and music producer Walter Becker of Steely Dan, dead at the age of 67. As of this writing, no cause of death has been announced.
Another rocker who experienced a terrible childhood and much heartbreak in his life has met an untimely end.
Steely Dan started out as two songwriters noodling around in their college dorm at Bard College and, later, as the backup band for a group popular in the 1960's, Jay and the Americans.
Becker, like me, was born in New York City borough of Queens. And, like me, he graduated from one of three specialty public high schools in New York City that required an entrance exam.
But that is where the resemblance ends.
Steely Dan fused jazz and rock together with lyrics that were such a pleasure to hear.
Not bad for a group who named themselves for...er, a female pleasure device in a William Burroughs novel.
Last night, I met a young lady my son was taking to an event later that night. We talked, and I found out that she had grown up not far from a sleepaway camp I had gone to for several years in Northern New Jersey.
Memories of youth can be pleasant.
Sometimes, though, memories of youth end up in a not so good place - ruined, vandalized, and published by abandoned places explorers on You Tube.
Here's my story:
I grew up in a New York City housing project, and by the definition of a
particular non profit, my family was considered poor. So I was
eligible to be sent to a sleep away camp in Sussex, New Jersey, opened
in 1924, and run by a Jewish Fresh Air Camp association (yes, I was a
Fresh Air child - of sorts). Its attendees were "orphans and poor
children". Mel Brooks, among a handful of famous people, went to this camp.
The camp closed in 2005, and has been extensively vandalized.
In researching this throwback, I found that the site was finally sold at auction last year, and may be reopened as a nonprofit children's camp for children from Korea. However, a quick Internet search hasn't dug up anything as of the end of camping season 2017. I did find, on one of the Facebook groups devoted to Camp Sussex alumni, a post that not much has been done as of this past June.
One can only hope that, by next year, this may not be a nostalgia backfire.
Here's one of my several posts on this particular memory, from several years ago:
Another Reason Why I Can't Go Home Anymore
One more reason why trying out nostalgia can bite you in the you-know-where.
I sometimes surf around Facebook and type in stuff from my past, just to see what comes up.
Today I decided to type in the name of my sleepaway camp. It wasn't
just any sleepaway camp. You see, as a child of public housing growing
up in the Bronx in the early 60's, the fact that my parents didn't own a
car, and their income made me a disadvantaged urban youth. Luckily, I
didn't know that growing up and I wouldn't have cared.
Through a elementary school friend, I found out about a camp in northern
New Jersey called Camp Sussex. A good childhood friend went there. She lived in a different
housing project so was disadvantaged, too. Since she was going, I
wanted to, also. Three weeks away from home. It would be my first time
away from home, at this camp for poor kids. So poor, we weren't even
expected to bring our own clothes. The camp provided them. The camp
provided everything, including transportation from Manhattan.
I went to camp and a couple of things happened that first day.
First, my friend treated me like I didn't exist.
The second was, I was massively homesick. I ended up in the infirmary
overnight, as I had somehow worked myself into a fever. Literally.
I was shown a lot of kindness there, and reported to my bunk first thing
the next morning. I never looked back. I survived being snubbed by my
"friend" and made other friends.
This camp was located in a then-rural area of northern New Jersey. It was
surrounded by beautiful hills. There was a lake [Lake Glenwood]. There were hiking
trails (rumored to contain quicksand pits and lethal snakes). There was
the opportunity to put on a camp musical. Every dinner, before the
prayer (yes, there was a religious element to this camp) we sang "Be
Kind to Your Web Footed Friends".
We woke
up to "Reville", made our bunks, had an inspection, watched a counselor raise the America flag. We listened to "taps" at Lights Out.
Many of the camp counselors were college students. I became friends
with one in particular, a student at Bryn Mawr [a women's liberal arts college back then, and still today]. We wrote to each other
for months after that session but lost touch.
I had my first crush at Camp Sussex, and my first "boyfriend".
Years later, my cousin married someone who had gone to Camp Sussex. And
at work, for several years, I sat near a former Camp Sussex
counselor. Problem was, she was born the last year I went. So we
didn't speak about it much. Now, I wish we had.
Anyway, I had known that the camp had never quite changed its mission,
but had gone through bad times and finally closed around 2005. There were hopes to turn it into a sports
camp, an "education through sports" camp. Derek Jeter's father was
somehow supposed to be involved.
Well, on Facebook, I found out, as Paul Harvey used to say, "The rest of the story".
The closed camp has been severely vandalized. It was alleged that the
local police had never been too happy about the camp being there (I
guess we disadvantaged kids polluted the place?). Over the years, the
rural area had become urbanized and the local youth had their way with
my beloved camp. The camp hadn't been secured, anyone could just walk
in, and the police didn't seem to care too much. (in all fairness, I
only know one side of the story.) Bottom line, it would take over a
million dollars just to get the camp fixed up enough to even begin about
reopening.
There were pictures on Facebook showing the damage. (there's even a 3
minute short on You Tube documenting some of the damage.) My heart
broke, seeing those beautiful hills for the first time in over 40 years.
And, on two Facebook sites, I saw discussions among some of over 400 people
who belonged to a fraternity of former campers, counselors and even
administrators. They loved Camp Sussex. I loved it
in some ways, too, because it showed me there was a lot more to life
than the streets of the Bronx.
Know what? I wish I could find out how all of us "disadvantaged
youth" of Camp Sussex turned out. How many of us are professionals?
People who have made life better for others? (The talented Mel Brooks was one.) And, for how many of us,
did Camp Sussex make a difference?
I wish I didn't know about the vandalism, though.
Sometimes you just can't go back home. How I sometimes envy people who
can!
On our way back from Columbia, South Carolina (driving back home to upstate New York after the total eclipse of the sun), we took a break and spent a couple of nights in Waynesboro, Virginia, in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley.
We stopped to watch the sky before going into a restaurant for supper, and saw what seemed to be thousands of birds flying, close to sunset, roosting on nearby street lights and utility wires. In this picture, the birds appear like tiny grains of black pepper in the lower half of the picture. I just couldn't capture their majesty.
Another sky view, without birds.
And one more, as the sunset progressed.
Visit other bloggers from all over the world posting the skies from their point of view at #SkywatchFriday.
The people of Texas are undergoing epic flooding. It's not the
first flood event in our country this year, or the second or the third. But I think few of us can imagine getting over 50 inches of rain in a matter of days. One city that has flooded (Houston, Texas) is larger than the states of Connecticut or New Jersey.
Once again a fellowship assembles, a fellowship of those thrown together by circumstance, but heroic nevertheless.
In a blog post from 2011, I called that fellowship 'The Fellowship of the Flood'. It's a club that you don't ever want to join. Membership is automatic when you have experienced a flood.
The fellowship is millions strong, and growing.
But, for those who are members of the Fellowship, you know that the experience of being in a flood never leaves you completely.
Ever.
There are two groups of people you can talk to about your flood experiences.
Those who know.
And those who can't imagine.
I belong to several blogging support groups. Some of their members are directly in this event. My heart goes out to you all.
I can't imagine what their area is going through, because I know just
enough (from personal experience) to know that I can't imagine what they are going through. My
flood was not their flood. Photos don't do a disaster of this magnitude much justice, anymore than a photo can express what it is like to experience a total eclipse of the sun.
That's the first thing to admit. You DON'T know what those in Texas, or Louisiana, or Mumbai (yes, India is going through this at the same time we are) are going through, unless you are there.
In September of 2011, after widespread flooding impacted many areas of my state, New York, I find (going through those posts) of my feeling
of gratitude. That may or may not surprise you.
It is hard to tell people how to support others who are going through a
disaster of this magnitude, but just being there to listen is important.
There are the strange things, the sad things, the terrible things, you see. Those sights never leave you. Trust me on that.
Right now, I suspect it's the everyday things people in the flood zones need. Clean
drinking water. A place to wash their clothes.
Oh, how I missed having
a place to wash my clothes.
I missed a place to feel human again.
What they don't need are flood tourists. If you aren't a trained
helper, or belong to an organization that knows what they are doing, you
will do those people a favor by staying home.
You may find you need professional help to move on. You should not
hesitate to seek it. Even a year later. Even more than that later.
It's not weakness.
For those not affected physically but want to help, this is my advice -
be very careful, if you are moved to give for flood relief. Be careful
who you give to. So many scammers out there.
I also fear, in a way I haven't before, that we may temporarily draw together in the aftermath of this disaster, but before we know it, we in the United States will be at each other's throats again.
With our changing climate, we must learn how to live with floods.
Floods or no floods, we must learn to live with ourselves and our differences.
The next few days, I am going to concentrate on nature and/or gardening in my blogging posts because we all need a spot of beauty in our lives.
How about some sunflowers?
We've had volunteer sunflowers in our (OK, my spouse's) community garden plot for years. This year, the plots were plowed late, and we thought we had lost the sunflowers.
But when we returned Friday after a week gone traveling to see the total eclipse of the sun, this is what greeted us.
Two large, beautiful bushes full of flowers.
Smiling faces, saying "nature still is beautiful".
And, finally, a sunflower from the west side of Binghamton, saying "the sun will shine again one day".
I hope the flowers are right as we not in the path of these storms continue to watch the news reports.
This is a repeat of a post from July 2012, with some editing.
Watching the reports of flooding in the state of Texas, something seems so familiar. The post-Harvey flooding is epic. So historic. Thousands and thousands, including a handful of my Facebook friends, affected. So why does it seem so familiar?
Because, on a smaller scale (a MUCH smaller scale), it happened to my part of upstate New York
in August and September of 2011. It seems like natural disasters strike
almost every week, all around the world. The fickle finger of fate has now landed on Houston, Texas.
Houston has been in my thoughts. Three of my cousins were born in College Station, Texas and one of them lived in Texas for many years.
I hope you, my dear readers, never have to learn the lessons of disasters first hand the way the residents of Houston are learning. But I suspect more and more of us will, in the coming days and months.
My post from 2012:
There's a huge market, isn't there, for the "everything was horrible but
I/my city/my country overcame, and now everything is hunky-dory" story.
Except, sometimes it just isn't so.
Disasters bring out the best in us but, too often, it also brings out the worst.
What I am about to say may not be popular but it is what I
have learned out of the truths of what my neighborhood, my town, my
area, went through during a natural disaster in September of 2011. So again, this is just my personal experience and opinion.
We have been conditioned to think that it is so easy to help those in
need. Just text '12345' (or whatever) and presto, you have helped!
Not necessarily.
But, dear reader, there are other ways you CAN help. I compiled this
list not that long after the flood that hit my area of upstate New York in September (of 2011). I don't want to presume, but I have a feeling this may
be of help to others who truly want to help, but don't know how. They
feel they have to do SOMETHING. It does need to be the right "something".
5. Don't come out to see us. No, really, don't. First, we aren't
animals in a zoo, to be stared at. Please, give us space. At first we
are in shock but then that shock wears off - and really, we don't want
you to see our tears, or some of the things we do that may seem bizarre
to some, but actually make sense in context. If you aren't an emergency
worker or with a charity that knows what it is doing, STAY HOME.
4. Don't take pictures of us. We aren't one of those commercials where
charities use pictures of sad, beaten dogs or starving children to get
your sympathy and your dollars. I got so upset at a cousin (at a family
event, no less) a couple of months ago when he told me how he wasn't
impacted by the flood but he had gone around and taken pictures where
his city did flood. No Kodak moments, please. Not unless you are a
journalist or a historian.
3. Don't send clothes. Well, sometimes we do need clothes but not the
clothes that get sent so many times - clothes full of stains, holes, and
rips. If you wouldn't wear it, don't send it.
So many people sent clothes after the flood, and charities were overwhelmed with them.
2. Don't trash our neighborhood. We aren't your garbage dump, either.
If you carry in cigarettes, coffee, and sandwiches, please take out
what they came in. Respect us.
1. Don't call us victims. We are not victims! And while I am on the
topic of victimization, I hope there is a special place in hell for
those who went to charities for help that they didn't need (and
literally took food out of the mouths of those who needed it). Or the
"contractors" who showed up, but were really scam artists.
After our disaster, the people in my neighborhood were very grateful to the
volunteer firefighters, who came on September 11, 2011 to pump out basements, the
Salvation Army, who served meals, and the many people who did really
help: who showed up out of nowhere and started to help with the
filthiest of chores or to set up tents and serve meals. More times than
you would think they had been impacted themselves. Or, they found
their workplace closed and just decided to see where nearby the need was
greatest.
THAT was true help. It will not be forgotten. For many, the road back
is long, and they may never be in the same
place as they were before.
Today, in 2017, I would add one other item: a donation to a major
organization
experienced in disaster relief might be an excellent way to help, if you
are moved by the TV stories. I will never forget how some of my
neighbors depended on the Salvation Army for meals. Or the Red Cross
for infant formula. The relief organizations need money to operate, and
have resources to use donations to buy the goods that are truly
needed. There are many excellent local organizations, too, but you
have to do research to find them. Be careful of scammers!
Just don't exploit us in our hour, day, or year of need. I suspect that is what someone impacted by any disaster would say.
If you have anything to add through your expertise or experience, I welcome your comments.
It's Monday, and it's time for Music Moves Me!
Today's theme: songs with dance moves. Gosh, so many to choose from, but I need to go back to my 1960's roots.
From 1962, I present Joey Dee and the Starliters with their Peppermint Twist. I love the beginning of this music video - in fact, the entire video is a trip through nostalgia.
For those who grew up in the late 50's/early 60's in New York City, as I did, this song has a special meaning. It was the last song played on radio station WMGM on February 28, 1962 as the station switched from a rock format to easy listening WHN. (Why and how do I remember this stuff?)
How about Bobby Pickett and "Monster Mash"? This is an American Bandstand from October of 1964. Anyone remember American Bandstand or Dick Clark?
I am going to end with this classic from 1975 (OK, it isn't the 60's. But still.) You can't do much better classic dancing than the Time Warp from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Let's Do the Time Warp Again!
Come join this blog hop -it's almost as much fun as dancing!
The very first Porchfest took place in Ithaca, New York (about an hour to the northwest of us) in 2007. I don't think anyone dreamed of how the concept has caught on, but it is now nationwide. In fact, there are several in Canada, including Montreal and Ottawa.
From noon to seven o clock today, the "Abel Bennett" historical neighborhood on the West Side of Binghamton, New York (a small city of about 47,000 population) is enjoying "Porchfest", where residents open their porches to bands, who play for free in a celebration of friendship, music, and neighborhood pride. Although most streets remain open, it's a block party type atmosphere, and family friendly.
Many people hold parties in their back yards. One host (the first concert we went to) provided water for visitors, and even some lawn chairs.
Here are some highlights.
A group called Next of Kin entertained here.
Crowds gather near a house as they hear a band play.
This yard was so shady.
Here are a couple of videos I took. The first one, of Next of Kin, features my finger (sorry).
And here, a band called Pool, a winner of various Battle of the Bands.
This is Binghamton's third Porchfest. As for Ithaca, their 11th will take place on September 24. One day, I may just show up for theirs, too.
Has your town or village started to participate in this tradition? If so, please share!
