Uncategorized – Page 3 – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

They Spend More Time in the Woods

Anat Sees Christy A.

After the Woodsman left, the two crawled into their tent. Marc is still mourning the destruction of his leanto. He knows who did it. He will make him pay. The guy will never know what hit him.

They woke up, washed up and made pancakes. They looked at each other. Each of them knew what the other was thinking. Marc took out his phone and texted his parents to ask how the twins were doing. Mom texted back that they were great and she was sorry they were picking them up later. She wanted more time.

Marc texted back that they decided to stay an extra day. Mom texted back the smile emoji. The two of them discussed chilling out in the woods a little longer. They hiked down to the Delaware River and jumped in. They were at a site Marc used to camp in. There was a crooked tree that he loved. He used to stand near it and take pictures. Sadly, it fell.

Their swim was refreshing. They hiked a little bit. Marc showed Alana his old stomping grounds. His favorite greasy spoon closed years ago. It is now a fancy restaurant. He has yet to dine there. One day. They saw several does and their fawns. Beautiful they are. They grazed while Alana snapped a few images and sent them to Anat, Ellen, Jen, Stacey and Tzipora. Alana hasn’t been with her girls since the twins were born. She needed a night out with them. Hopefully, a peaceful one. She still remembers the first night she used her powers when some dumb jock wouldn’t leave Stacey alone in the bar. She still wonders why he was in a goth bar—made no sense. Those women weren’t interested in him. He learned that the hard way after Alana made him whimper. Oh well.

The weather perfect. They got to their site and started grilling to the tunes of the Stripes, Nena’s first band before she found a red balloon.

Anat didn’t know these people. That was the time she was the enemy and had no friends. Wow, how things have turned around.

Sometimes she thinks of those days. How much better her life has become since she found Jerry abandoned on a bench during her run along Hudson River Park near the West Side Highway. She was out there almost daily. That one day she saw Jerry in tears changed everything. He was becoming quite powerful and doing well in school.

She was out on her run and saw a disheveled-looking Christy on a bench. She was still bruised pretty badly from the recent fight. She was shivering. Anat snapped a shot, texted it to those who needed it, and kept on running.

Farewell

But Not Gone. The Memories Will Live Forever. Maybe Longer.

A few days ago, I went up to the camp I spent my pre-teen and teen summers in. It was there I made some of the best friends I ever had. We are still friends. At our campfire, I was sitting with people who said, “We’ve known each other for over forty years. We are old.” We are. For those of you that saw Chris Rock’s show, “The MotherF**ker with the Hat,” you might recall when Rock’s character told another you make all your friends from when you’re about five until college. That’s it. I agree. However, I have made some great friends after college. They are right up there.

I took a few rides to my section of the camp; parts have been shuttered since 1988. Other sections a decade plus later. As we drove in, tears fell out of my eyes. When we traveled along the trails and saw where many buildings stood, all but one have been knocked down. All are pieces of wood and cement foundations.

My site was the one closed in ’88. It used to have a dining hall, office, old school latrine, and many leantos (sleeping quarters). We had a terrarium. As a staff member, I helped build it many times. We had a giant treehouse.

Below our hill was a no longer functional dining hall, ball field, shower house, and usable dining hall. We had our own shower. We even had hot water. I say this because my first 2.5 summers or so we didn’t. You took ice-cold showers. Or walked to the shower house for hot water. I froze.

We had lots of fun singing songs in the dining hall. And no fun eating in it. Camp food was not enjoyable. The camp had several dining halls. Mine had the best food. But it wasn’t good. I walked by most of these sites.

The main site had movie nights in a once fully operational dining hall beneath my hill. My group did our movie nights in our palace (camp office). We often brought in McDonald’s, pizza and sandwiches from El Monaco’s, an Italian restaurant famed for its red sauce. BTW, the main dining hall was kosher. We were so reverent when we brought in other food.

After spending some time in my section, I went back to the main section. The next day, I went back. I went with one of my pals from a long time ago. We first went into the lake. Our section was closed off. We went into another site’s section. At different times, there were several operational camps around that beautiful lake. When I went, there was one.

Foundation Block for Double Decker Tip Pan Latrine

We walked through a swamp to get to the entrance of the lake. I found a spot with some rocks to leave our towels. We jumped in and swam like it was many years ago. We exited and walked back to the car. We spent some time by the now boarded-up main dining hall. We walked over to the old rifle range and found the foundation blocks that once held a two-floor, 8 – or 10-seater tip pan latrine. My site had the last of the tip pan latrines. It was a five-seater.

Our ball field where we played softball, volleyball, and ultimate Frisbee now looks like a tree farm. We went up to our site and looked where the terrarium was and where our small fields were where people sunned themselves. From the trail, we walked into our site. We saw the foundation where the shack was. Years before I got there, it housed tick tubes. That’s about all we saw. The site was laden with ferns, weeds, trees and mud. Am I happy it is gone? No. Am I happy nature took it back? Yes.

We hopped in the car and drove to the gate. I jumped out of the car, turned around, looked at the trail, locked the gate and said farewell as we drove away.

Thank You, NYC Transit Part II

I thank those who read, “Thank You, NYC Transit.” I hope you enjoyed and thought of your own NYC Transit or other public transit stories. Every city has them. I have been lucky enough to ride the trains and buses in the following cities: Berlin, London, Madrid, Milan, Moscow, Rome, St. Petersburg, Safed, San Francisco, Tel Aviv, Tiberias and Vienna. I probably I left some cities out. Feel free to add your thoughts to the chat.

Annadale Station – Staten Island Railway

Since we live in modern times, our subway system has a website. It is supposed to tell us what trains have service changes during specific hours. Service changes mean they are not running, skipping stops, or facing significant route changes. For example, trains that normally travel into Brooklyn are not. They are going to Brigadoon. If only.

I check the website fairly regularly. Is it helpful? Sometimes. Often, the information is inaccurate. You get to your usual station or go to a different one thinking you had proper guidance, only to find out the site was incorrect. That means you either get on the subway where you are and transfer. Or exit the station, walk to another one and pay a new fare.

I once walked to a MetroCard agent and asked him if a certain train was running. The signs on the platform made no sense. Trains the signs said weren’t running stopped in the station. The ones the signs said were running did not.

The agent said that your best bet is to check our website. He continued to say it is never wrong. I said I just did and it was incorrect. He was dumbfounded. Then there are times when only certain train cars will open at a specific station. That is usually only relevant to the Long Island Railroad, Metro North and New Jersey Transit. But not always. You’d think the signs and website would publish this. Not.

I rarely ride public buses. I tried it many years ago from Staten Island to Grand Central Station. I used to get off feeling nauseous not far from Macy’*s and walked the rest of the way.

Anyway, what choice do we have? You really can’t drive into the city. So, we keep riding. See ‘ya on the platform.

Thank You, NYC Transit

Most New Yorkers get around via NYC Transit. Be it our “timely” buses or our ever “timely” and “clean” subways. We should not forget the Staten Island Railway. That’s like a trolley from yesteryear. But hey, today’s subway systems seem to be on that track. What track it is on no one really knows. It is unlikely we will ever know. For the record, I know all the lines. I have friends all over the USA. They often text me when they’re coming to the Big Apple and ask for train advice. I coach them as best as I can. But ‘ya never know.

Each time you ride, you can probably write a story. You need to take in the salespeople, preachers, drunks, crazies, tourists, and the performers. Today, I will focus on the quality of the service. No need to talk about the cleanliness of the stations, the trains, and the restrooms. That’s for another time.

Once I was on the R going to Cortlandt Street – World Trade. After City Hall, they just ran the train right to DeKalb Avenue. They didn’t tell us. Eventually it pulled into DeKalb. The tourists asked me what they should do. They were hoping to go to Ground Zero. I said we have to go to the Manhattan-bound platform and hope it goes there. Heck, we were at DeKalb. I should have just said, go to Junior’s, get a delicious burger, and a piece of its award-winning cheesecake.

Once I was going to see Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium, I got on the D train. It is supposed to run to the Stadium when there are ballgames and other events, such as concerts. A packed train flew right by the Stadium and, unlike a cutter by Mariano, missed the strike zone. In other words, it didn’t stop. The conductor sheepishly announced that they forgot to program the train to stop at 161^st. He told us to get off two stops later and take the Manhattan-bound train to the Stadium.

Another time at the Stadium after a Yankees-Red Sox game, the station was packed beyond belief. The NYPD let everyone know they forgot to add the extra service they usually do during games. They were trying to catch up.

NYPD Boat – I know it is not an image of an officer at the subway station. But NYC Transit would not know the difference

Another day, I wanted to take the Queens-bound R to Queens. It wasn’t running. I figured I’d get an F. I went to the station and paid. They said the F wasn’t running. But they were running the E (a train that the Board of Health should condemn) through that station. But it may not go to the stop I wanted. The F wound up running through. I asked the conductor if that train was going where I needed to go. She said, “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. Get on my train.” I did. It worked.

For a moment, let’s jump the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). A week or so ago, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I wanted to take the 2 or 3 from 72^nd to Times Square to get the E. The E was out of service. I could have walked over to the F. Or take the LIRR at Penn Station. Mind you, due to construction that has been going on for years at the Forest Hills Station, only the first four cars open when it pulls in. When will it be finished? Why ask? You know.

I got into what looked like the first car. I asked the conductor if I was in the right car. He said my train is stopping at Forest Hills. I asked again whether this car would open. He didn’t know. He never scanned my ticket. That happens on all the trains that have that payment procedure. I experienced that in Berlin, too. I always buy one. I am not willing to take the risk. But it does feel like I was wasting money. Or not. Honestly needs to count for something.

Then there are the nights that after games or concerts at the Garden several of the subway lines in Penn Station aren’t running and you have to walk to Herald Square or elsewhere. I have had interesting experiences on NJ Transit, PATH – Path to where is what you should ask and Metro North.

Despite all of this, it’s our way to get around and helps make NYC what it is. Keep riding.

The Match is Set. Or is it?

Alana, Anat, and Marc were hanging out at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal in St. George. Why did they choose to hang there? They loved Staten Island. They felt it was exotic.

Jay was on the incoming Newhouse boat. Christy A. was across the street from the terminal near Staten Island Borough Hall. She was relatively calm for herself. She had a couple of slices at the nearby pizza place. She quenched her thirst with water.

The boat docked, and the passengers got off. Some walked around to the section for the NYC-bound boats. Several headed to Empire Outlets, the bus stops, or the Staten Island Railway. It was a weekend. So, it was not running express. The fact that it was running at all is a shocker.

Christy was heading towards Empire Outlets. Jay was approaching the Old Navy outlet. His cousin was also approaching it. The good heroes split up. But were in sight of each other.

All of a sudden, glass was flying everywhere. Pieces of moldy bread were knocking it down. Some missed, and the glass hit people. Alana, Anat and Marc furiously texted each other. They wanted to wait before they jumped in. But didn’t want to see people get hurt.

Sadly, a piece of glass hit a little girl in the face. She started bleeding. She screamed. Her mother held her and started pressing herself against her to stop the bleeding. As she squeezed her child tighter, a piece of bread smacked her in the left eye. She fell.

The three had enough. Anat was standing on top of the roof of the Gap Outlet store. Dried fruit was deflecting the glass and bread. Alana raced out of the front door of the Guess outlet and began flooding the area with wine. From the Hagen Dazs store, pomegranates were flying. One nailed Christy A. in the head. Jay fell in a pool of wine. Christy tripped over a few raisins.

Apple seeds hit Jay in the eyes. Barley landed in his mouth. Apricots smacked Christy in the eyes. Some wound up in her nose. People were running to get away. Many jumped onto the departing Senator John J. Marchi boat. Pretty soon only the fighters were at Empire Outlets—those who didn’t get away sheltered in the stores. Anat jumped off the roof. As she landed, she kicked Jay in the head with her Timberlands. Marc pounced on Christy and poked her eyes with pomegranates. Alana kept the wine flowing.

The Creatures of the Incinerator, Laundry Room and Gym

To start, my dearly departed grandfather was the master of the incinerator. My grandmother would send him there all day. At one point, he knew to go. However, he was always given the nudge. But he was not a creature of it. When I say creatures of the incinerator, I don’t mean rodents. We all know they spend time there.

What I mean are the people who can’t follow the rules. Same with the laundry room and gym. We are constantly beset with new rules on how to toss out our trash. We, those of us in apartment buildings, have the various trash cans for paper, aluminum, and within the last year or so we got our compost cans. People dwelling in houses have those cans at the top of their driveways and place them at their curbs on the appropriate days.

I am a neat freak. I follow all the trash disposal rules. I often think of grandpa when I take out the trash. What I cannot understand is why people cannot clean out takeout containers before they place them into the receptacles in the incinerator. The other day, I walked in to throw out my newspaper and found an aluminum take-out container loaded with cheese and sauce. This happens regularly. Don’t the creatures who dump this into the recycle bins know this will bring roaches and mice? Is it that hard to rinse it out? I do. My recyclables look like they came off the assembly line and are waiting for pasta or something to be loaded up.

Let’s jump over to the laundry room. In my old apartment complex (Bay Terrace, Staten Island), I was known as laundry boy. In my current building, I either use the laundry room or drop it off at the dry cleaners. Lately, I’ve been doing it myself. I am not the best when it comes to folding. But I live.

I have to stand tall to add the Downy. Sometimes the machines do not work. I usually do laundry when I have the room to myself and have my pick of the washers and dryers. Alas, sometimes people are doing laundry with me. It is okay. I know who they are. There is a very sweet woman who says hello to everyone. Sometimes she has trouble with the machines. Sometimes she stands on top of one of the washers and sings. I am not sure why. But she does. She’s about my height. I always thought she climbed on top to add Downy. I am not sure. But I often walk into a concert. Maybe one day she will perform at the Garden. I hope the stage has a laundry room.

Then there’s the gym. Well before COVID, I had my towel in hand and wiped off each machine pre- and post-use. I now grab the Purell wipes and scrub. There are far too many people who bounce between machines and never clean anything. I am not sure they clean themselves. There’s the man who never washes his hands after using the gym’s bathroom. He never wipes any machine. There’s the couple that works out together. They proudly say during COVID they would not wear masks or give anything an extra wipe down. They sweat all over the machines. It makes no sense.

There are creatures everywhere. I don’t think they are the little creatures the Talking Heads meant when they recorded their landmark album, “Little Creatures.”

I Can’t Sing. I Will Never Pretend I Can

Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.

Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.

Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.

What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.

But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.

How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.

Tipping and Other Scams at Restaurants, Entertainment Venues and Coney Island

Tipping is the standard for good service. Whether it is the server or bartender in a restaurant, the delivery person, super, barber, or a few other folks. I have always been a big tipper. I have a friend who does the same. Some do not believe in tipping.

There are the standard percentages of the bill to give, and thankfully restaurants make suggestions, and you plug it right in when you swipe your phone. But then there are the scams with tipping and other ways places try to unjustly and/or unnecessarily squeeze money out of you.

Last week, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I went downstairs where the lavatories are. Right outside is now a self-serve beverage bar. You can get beer, soda, water, and some other beverages. They have an employee standing near the fridge. The process is pretty simple: you walk up to it and pull out your beverage(s). You go to the scanner, place it in the middle, and tap your card. The employee is there to help you and check ID if you’re purchasing alcohol.

It is all pretty simple. I grabbed a water bottle, scanned, and swiped. It did ask me to leave a tip. I left nothing. I wish I could have tipped myself. I did see some people click on the tip section on the scanner. I am not sure why. They did exactly what I did. If the employee helped the person scan the item or pull it out of the fridge, you might consider giving a tip. But does this get into the craziness of everyone expecting a tip? Supermarkets and drug stores have tips jars by the registers. Fast food joints do. For decades, this was unheard of. It just seems like another way to squeeze money out of people. Plus, I am sure the vendors know that too many people like to click on everything they see. So, they don’t even think about when they add more money to an already overpriced bottle of water.

Then there are the other ways places try to rip you off. A few days ago, I was at Coney Island. I am a regular there. Nothing beats Gargiulo’s or Nathan’s. We all love a few rides on the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel. All of these places charge more than enough for their food and entertainment.

I went on Leti’s Treasure, the water ride in Luna Park. On a hot, sticky day, there’s nothing better. You get drenched. Normally, I keep whatever is in my pockets in them and hold my NY Yankees hat. July 12, 2017, it flew off my head while riding the Cyclone rollercoaster. I am sure it is somewhere under the tracks. Who knows what bit into it?

The Hat That Replaced What Flew Off My Head

Back to scamming customers out of money. Lockers are available at some of the rides. The Cyclone does it the right way: you hand it to an employee who places your stuff in cubbies and gives you a bracelet, then you get dropped. At Leti’s and other places, they charge $2 for two hours for the lockers. Truthfully, it is a great idea to have them. It protects stuff you do not want to get wet or fall out. But people, particularly a couple or mom and dad and the kid(s), can easily spend a few hundred at America’s Playground. Why not give people a break and let them have the locker at no charge for two hours? People would probably be thankful and spend more on rides, food and souvenirs.

AI and the Arts

Is it Helpful or Does it Destroy Creativity? Will it Make Coney Island or NYC’s Flowers and Rivers Look Better?

I’ve been to some in-person breakfasts and/or lunches (remember those) and attended several Zooms (we all know those) where we’ve discussed the progression of AI. Make no mistake, it is progressing.

One of the things we discussed in the side conversations or hallway chats is how it affects the arts. I had a similar discussion with people who are writing and performing their own music. They’ve played in some of NYC’s bars. Hopefully, one day, one will headline Madison Square Garden.

The big topic is: does AI help or hurt the Arts? I know people who are now creating art using AI. Is that how we should use it? Use it as a collaborative tool. It will make your work better.

We have spoken about how, in a few decades, we will enter the Guggenheim and see art created by AI? Will it rival the pieces painted by Cezzanne, Monet, Picasso, Pissarro, and Van Gogh? Unlikely. I doubt it can capture the feelings they had while painting. But it can create interesting material? Should it have an asterisk? Sort of like what they did to Roger Maris after he hit #61?

AI certainly helps you be more creative. Don’t use it to create your image or music. Use it where it enhances your work. I love using Photoshop’s new AI tools. Most of my photography is shot outdoors. My favorite sites to shoot are Coney Island, Brooklyn Botanic Garden, South Street Seaport, and a few scout camps.

Little Acorn Cabin at William H. Pouch Scout Camp

Photoshop has enhanced its tools that let me delete those annoying glares and spots from the sun. Yes, I used polarizing filters. But nothing can one hundred percent eliminate them when shooting. We have great tools on our cameras, and AI is another super tool to help. It does a few other cool things, such as removing distracting elements or fixing the colors better than it previously did. It is easier to fix someone’s shaving cut and make their face look better in the image with their children at special moments.

Sure, it can play around with clothing. I know someone who wanted to take a uniform someone wore in an image from the 30s and update it to today’s look. I said no; that’s where we should keep things the way they were.

Bottom line: when used properly, AI can do wonders. It is frustrating to see sun spots in my skies, rivers, and fields when filters could not block them all out. That is where AI is especially helpful. It can help you be more creative. Use those ideas as a starting point, not as a substitute for your own vision.

Nostalgia

How Music is the Driving Force

Over the last few weeks, I saw performances by Paul Simon at Forest Hills Tennis, Bon Jovi at the Garden and Joe Jackson at the Beacon. Future shows include Squeeze at Radio City Music Hall, David Byrne at Forest Hills Tennis, Sting at Brooklyn Paramount and Belinda Carlisle at Palladium Times Square. I hope to see more. I do have a few Yankees-Red Sox games on tap.

All brought back memories. Or, as my mom said, nostalgia. Bon Jovi’s on-stage commentary put it best. He said, let’s party like it’s 1999. We all know Prince, whom, sadly, I never saw did that. Bon Jovi said Let’s go back to 1986. He references when his hair was a little fuller and his jeans were tighter. He continued, saying that all of you listening to me now were much younger back in the day. Probably all in high school and now we’re older.

As I listened to him, I was blasted back to my high school job at the Greenridge Plaza McDonald’s and when we closed the store. We all brought cassettes to put into the boombox to blast while we cleaned up. Remember cassettes and boomboxes? We had one of our managers, Uncle Dave, or Disco Dave, with his choices. Others had their choices. We used to fight over what we’d listen to. We heard a wild mix of Bon Jovi, the Cure, David Bowie, Cinderella, Depeche Mode, Genesis, Guns & Roses, Love & Rockets, Madonna, Mötley Crüe, Poison, U2, Van Halen and Wham. I liked most of it. Couldn’t stand and still can’t Cinderella, Mötley Crüe, Poison and Van Halen. Plenty of other acts made our playlists. They were either on mixed tapes, or albums that we pulled in and out of the boombox. We did not have the luxury of Apple Music.

Hearing Bon Jovi pushed me back to those days. I had visions of us in our uniforms scrubbing the grills, sweeping and mopping the floors. It made me think of the times we hung out in the parking lot after we closed. In our cars, we played what we wanted. In front of the stores, some of us had beer. Not me. I did nothing. That’s usually the case.

As for Paul Simon, I wasn’t around for Simon & Garfunkel’s heyday. I did see their reunion tour in the 2000s. I have seen Simon solo a few times and saw Art Garfunkel once at the original City Winery on Varick Street. As Simon played songs from the “Graceland” album, it reminded me of being driven to Scout trips, particularly our winter ski trip—my first- and only-time skiing. I did not do well.

It also reminded me of when I played music all night and kept my sister up in the next room. I made mixes. Most of the new wave and goth bands. But had to include the classic rock tunes. Elton John, Billy Joel, and the Beatles made the cut. Billy Joel was my first concert. I called in sick when I was supposed to close McDonald’s. I got to the former Brendan Byrne Arena with my family. Seated a few rows behind me were several of my coworkers. No one said a word about my illness.

I constantly listen to the Cure. Many times, I flash back to what was perhaps my first date, seeing them with the Pixies and Love & Rockets. We were too young to buy beer. Not that would have as I was driving. We had M&M’s at Giants Stadium.

All of the other bands mentioned do something similar. People who knew me in college often say they remember my Cure and Depeche Mode posters hanging on my dorm room wall. Sid Vicious hung on my room’s wall at home.

Good music, particularly the best generation of music ever, the 80s, is the driving force of keeping things going.