Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

Likes? Kindness? Courtesy?

Can We Be Polite When We Comment on Social Media?

By Mitchell Slepian

Positively and negatively, social media has impacted our lives. Even if you’re not active and don’t have any accounts, it has made changes for you. I have not posted on my Facebook wall in nearly six years. I do run several sites for the organizations I belong to. We get thousands of hits, comments, etc. It has helped us grow. We’ve gotten financial and other donations. Our social media efforts have helped drive our narrative.

I do post on a few fun sites. The top two are Coney Island and Staten Island Ferry Friends. Who doesn’t love Coney Island? It has it all – The Cyclone, Nathan’s, the NY Aquarium, the Polar Bears, the Wonder Wheel and more. Much more. I am originally from Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. I spend a lot of time at Coney Island. Funny thing, I spend more time there now than when I lived in Brooklyn. Sadly, I only lived there for a few years.

The holy medicinal waters at Coney Island

As someone who grew up on Staten Island, I have taken my share of rides on that big orange boat. That boat has taken Staten Islanders to and from Manhattan since 1817. It has an annual ridership of 22 million.

I focus heavily on my photography at these locations. My posts get hundreds of likes and comments. One shot of the ferry has over 10,000 views. I do not live for “likes” on Facebook. I once had a dear friend who got upset when his posts didn’t get too many likes. Years ago (Feb. 3, 2017), I wrote a blog post titled “Do We Live for Likes?” It got a few views and likes.

Deck on the Dorothy Day: Over 10,000 views and 600 likes

It is nice to see my images generate comments and memories. People bring up fun times they had riding the Cyclone, munching on that great hot dog at Nathan’s, or when they heard the man yell, “Shine, shine” on the ferry. Don’t forget the ferry preachers. It is fun.

But what I do not understand is why people must be nasty about the posts. For the record, the people on the Coney Island pages are so positive. There are those afraid of the Cyclone and mention the moments they freaked out on the drop and its twists and turns. I rode it on Mother’s Day. Mom watched while she held my Yankee hat. Once my old Yankee hat blew off on the Cyclone. I am still hoping to find it under the tracks. Who knows what probably tried to eat it? I love it when people comment about how they ran into the ocean in February during a snowstorm. More power to you.

For the most part, people on the ferry page are just as nice. But people need to be polite. I recently posted a shot of the Sandy Ground boat docking at St. George. In the shot, the deckhand is at the gate. One person commented, “He looks lost.” Another wrote, “gay.”

Deckhand Getting Ready for the Sandy Ground to Dock

I can understand why people attack how filthy the boat bathrooms are. They need to be cleaned. Or when they are shocked by how clean the decks look in the images I shot. Bear in mind, I usually take photos on weekend morning runs. The ferries would be dirtier if I shot them during rush hour. But why can’t people just either be nice or refrain from commenting? There’s no need to say mean things about the deckhands. I can understand a comment about a needless pitching change that cost the Yankees a game. This is just a guy doing his job. Let’s love the drop on the Cyclone, ride our ferry, have fun, and support it all.

Is That Seat Available?

Did You Purchase it?

by Mitchell Slepian

I regularly attend concerts, movies, the theater and Yankee Games. Venues include Madison Square Garden (MSG), City Winery, the Beacon and the Stadium. In most cases, the seats are assigned because the other audience members and I purchased specific seats.

Sure, there are occasions where the shows are general admission seating or standing room only. I am not a fan of this, but I have learned to live with it. There are some venues where I can stand it. Those include the Brooklyn Paramount (maybe because it is across the street from the original Junior’s) and Pier 17 at the South Street Seaport. Irving Plaza is ok. Terminal 5 and Webster Hall suck.

About two weeks ago, I saw Florence and the Machine at MSG. I’ve seen Florence many times. She rocks. I had a decent seat. The two seats in front of me were empty for the opener. I was happy. I always want those seats empty. It makes it easier for me to see the stage. Two women sat in those seats. Were these their seats? No.

They looked and said, “Oh, open seats.” Yeah, it’s like a movie theater. The people who had the seats arrived just as Florence took the stage. The people left. They did say, “oh we are down this aisle. But we saw open seats and thought we’d take them.”

They got up, and the rightful occupants sat down, and Florence and the Machine were amazing. This is far from the first time this has happened.

Last week, I was at the Stadium. We beat the Orioles 11-3. I was in my usual spot (Section 232A). For several innings, the seats next to me were empty. Eventually, a friendly family sat next to me. They were up and down a lot. People were seated in front of me. They, too, were up and down a lot. I do not understand how you cannot be there for the first pitch and can miss an inning. During the sixth inning, when I get online for ice cream, I watch the game on the TVs by the concession stand. So, the seats ahead of me were empty. People came over and asked the folks next to me if anyone was seated there. They said yes. But they have not been there for an inning or two. The people who asked for those seats planted themselves in them.

The Stadium has the handicapped seating area near my section. People plant themselves there. Thankfully, the ushers do make them leave. But not right away. They used to have ushers in all sections and kept out those who were not supposed to be seated in a particular section. The Garden and Radio City try. But they don’t always succeed. Broadway and Lincoln Center generally get it right. It’s time to bring the ushers back to the other venues. It is time for people to understand it’s not a free-for-all.

A Trip to the Bronx Zoo

Jen decided to take Benjamin and Jerry to the Bronx Zoo. The real one. Not the Stadium. One day, they will get there. Despite Anat’s sick loyalty to the Red Sox, Jerry decided he loves the Yankees. He only wished he were old enough to have seen the Core Four. Oh well.

Everything was great. Jen had stuff under control. Ben and Jerry were becoming good friends. Benjamin was a grounded kid and not as goofy as Mom. But he had his moments. He was dancing with the lowland gorilla. He only wished he really were with him, and that the gorilla was not in a cage. But he watched it and danced along. Jerry liked the serpents and tigers. Jen was all smiles and bought the kids ice cream. That turned into a mistake when it wound up all over them. But they are kids and were having fun.

They were meandering over to see the giraffes. That is one of Marc’s favorite animals. As they passed the elephants, Jen got hit in the head with a moldy piece of bread. She was knocked to the ground. Benjamin ran over to his mom. She was scraped up and slightly bleeding. More bread was flying their way. It missed.

Jerry saw Christy launching her bread near the elephants. She was hanging off a tree like a monkey. Jerry needed to test his aim. He usually shoots his olives at a more direct target. He’s never shot at someone swinging off a tree branch.

Meanwhile, Benjamin got napkins and was wiping his mom’s face. She got up and kissed him. Jen was shaken. But okay. Jerry launched his first round of olives. A few missed. But one hit Christy on the arm, causing her to fall into the water that the elephants were drinking. She panicked. One of the elephant’s trunks was slapping water around to cool down and to communicate with his fellow elephants. Christy was getting soaked. She tried to stand up and get to the fence. She tripped and wound up back in the water. She was getting quite dirty.

Jerry waltzed over to Jen and Benjamin. He was all smiles when he was Jen was ok. They carried on and went to see more monkeys.

Seeing Things Through a Different Lens

By Mitchell Slepian

Do you ever try to see things through a different lens? Are you so stuck in your usual way of thinking that you cannot? It might even scare you to try to look. The other day, I was at Grand Army Plaza and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I was thrilled to see that the plaza renovation is finally complete. It made the fact that I looked through a different lens even more special.

Normally, when I stroll through the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, I have my camera with my Nikkor105MM F2.8 macro lens. That’s the lens that lets you to closeups of the flowers. You can shoot shots of the bees flying around and landing on the pretty flowers. Perhaps they are fetching honey. That’s an old joke from a camp skit. The lens allows you to take close-ups of a nice ribeye with that glass of red behind it and hashbrowns on the side.

I love shooting macro. But it doesn’t allow you to go wide or zoom. You are at a fixed focal length. That’s cool. Most of the best portrait and street photos are shot that way. I have taken dozens of floral shots with my 105 mm lens. I have been contemplating going to the BBG with a different lens. I finally did. I brought a Nikkor 24-70MM F2.8. Some call this the everyday lens. It is amazing. It gives you the versatility to do nearly everything. It doesn’t go as wide as a standard wide-angle. Nor does it let you zoom like the 70-200MM. It goes from wide to short telephoto. It is light and won’t weigh you down. It is a great choice when you wanna go out with just one lens and not be weighed down by your camera bag.

As I walked by Prospect Park towards Grand Army Plaza, I was shocked to see that the renovation work was complete. It took about two years. For NYC, that’s super-fast. They’ve been doing track work on the R-subway line for several years with no end on the horizon.

I was so happy I took my 24-70 lens. The macro would have done a great job. But framing the shot would have taken much longer and been more difficult. The other lens allowed me the flexibility I needed. Yes, I tried to take a shot of the Brooklyn Museum. No dice. I need my wide-angle lens. If the museum were about a half-foot smaller, I could capture it.

As I entered the garden, I took my usual opening shot of the field and was able to capture it all. I was able to shoot the ponds and capture them perfectly. As for the close-ups of the flowers, it did okay. It captured them nicely. Does it capture the same detail as the macro? No. But that’s why they make that lens.

Bottom line: seeing things through a different lens opens your eyes to new things. Give it a try.

Video Review

Marc and Alana reviewed the video. They paid careful attention to Christy A. They were ready for her. They saw how evil she was and wanted to put an end to her nastiness. They had no idea where she lived. Marc used a face ID app to learn more about her. She has a very low profile. But he found enough. He figured out she lived near Avenue J and Coney Island Avenue. That’s only a few stops on the Q to Coney Island.

Marc didn’t want to spend his time tracking her. But he wanted to know her general whereabouts. He did not know she was related to Jay. Not that makes a big difference. He did not want to fight a teen. But he didn’t want his kids fighting her. At least not yet. They were just a few months old and learning. They were still in diapers and being nursed by Alana. Marc figured they needed to learn more control. It amazed him how quickly they could snap in and out of their super characters. But he’s not surprised. Unlike the other offspring, both of Marc’s kids’ parents have superpowers. This made them particularly powerful.

They wanted to keep things peaceful for their kids’ first Passover. They enjoyed their matzah, wine, grape juice and some fresh fava beans. Alana knew if Christy came after her kids when they went to Coney Island or Brooklyn, it’d be four against one.

Christy Keeps Attacking

The weather was getting nicer. Denos Wonderland and Luna Park recently held a blessing ceremony for the Wonder Wheel and Cyclone. The Polar Bears were getting ready to be Solar Bears. The lines at Nathan’s were getting longer, and people were able to sit outside and munch on their hot dogs without freezing.

Christy was excited. More people on the boardwalk gave her more targets. She had no particular care about who she attacked. Anyone was a target. The NYPD had its hands full with her. She launched her moldy bread everywhere. She was just wild.

Turns out she’s Jay’s cousin. But the two of them haven’t spoken in years. Jay is still getting high and fighting with glass. He still wants Jerry back from Anat. That wasn’t going to happen. Jerry was getting powerful and is now old enough to really understand how he wound up with Anat. He’s a happy kid. He enjoys doing all the things little boys do and cannot wait to be old enough to ride the Cyclone. He loves the Wonder Wheel and the kiddie rides at Denos and Luna Park.

Christy was going after the little kids who were waiting in line with their parents at Nathan’s. The NYPD tried to stop her. But she moved fast. They had no intention of opening fire. But knew if she didn’t stop, they might have to fire warning shots. Or fire at her.

She was firing off bread like the world’s best reliever was able to fire off his cutter. She wound up hitting the wrong person – Jerry, who was there with Anat. Suddenly, she was splattered with olives. Anat watched. She didn’t want to hit a teenage girl. But if she had to, she would. Jerry launched olives as if they were being fired out of an Uzi. Olive oil followed his shots, making her slip. He tried to run over to her. But Anat held him back. She thought he did what he had to do. Christy got up and started firing at Jerry. He fired back. Anat’s watchful eyes didn’t move. People were running away from Nathan’s. No one wanted to get hurt.

Christy kept firing. Jerry got nailed in the head. He stumbled. But regained his footing. Anat had had enough. She launched apricots, dates, and raisins. She was ready to fire off prunes. But Christy started running to the beach. Jerry looked at Anat and started to run after Christy. Again, Anat pulled him back. Christy reached the beach and jumped into the magical waters of Coney Island. She did a few laps and went under. She came up firing soggy bread at those walking around.

Jerry aimed from the edge of the boardwalk and nailed her in the chest. She went down in the water. But bounced up. Jerry fired away. Anat was shooting a video and sending it to Alana and Marc.

Do We Really Need All the Memorials and Monuments We Have?

A few days ago, I was meeting my mother for dinner near the World Trade Center Memorial. As usual, I was at the restaurant early. They were getting ready to open. I wandered around. I passed the Anne Frank Tree, a sapling descendant of the original horse chestnut tree outside her secret annex, which brought her peace while she was hiding. I have a copy of her diary sitting on my living room table. Last year, I attended a few events about her and the diary.

After walking by her tree, I ventured over to the World Trade Center Memorial. I saw flowers stuck into the grooves near the names of some of the victims of this tragedy. The museum is next to it.

I have spent time in Berlin, Prague, and Vienna, and have been to countless memorials for the Shoah. When you travel to Washington, DC, you can visit the Jefferson, Vietnam Veterans Memorials and World War II memorials, as well as the Lincoln and Washington Monuments. Every city is chock full of memorials and monuments.

The question is: Do we need them? Are there too many? Yes, I think we need the ones for Jefferson, Lincoln, and Washington. Their presidencies shaped our nation. Do we need the ones for the Holocaust and others who have been memorialized? That’s the bigger question. If Anne Frank had lived the normal life she should have, we wouldn’t be planting trees cloned from the one in front of the annex where she hid. If 9/11 had never happened, those working in the World Trade Center (WTC) would still be here and maybe still be working in the WTC. Same with the memorials for all the slain police officers and firefighters who we lost in the line of duty.

We would not need these memorials if we lived more intelligently.

Remember to Flush

And Wash Your Hands

By Mitchell Slepian

Auto-flush toilets came out in the mid-80s. They became common in many restrooms in the 1990s. Here we are in 2026. Are they everywhere? No.

Before these types of toilets became available in entertainment, offices, restaurants, and sports venues, you had to flush. The flush toilet was invented in 1596 by Sir John Harrington, godson of Queen Elizabeth I. In camp during the 80s, we had latrines. Some were two-seater pit latrines, while others were five-seater tip pan latrines. A pit latrine was cleaned out using a pipe that sucks waste into a tanker. A tip pan latrine is cleaned when the pan tips, and the waste product is directed into a pit.

These days, many people are so used to automatic flush toilets that they take care of their business and walk away. Behold, not every toilet is an automatic flush. Certainly not in city venues, such as Central and Union Square Parks, the Staten Island Ferry, and its terminals. Many religious organizations haven’t upgraded. Nothing is more disgusting than when you walk into a train station’s bathroom and see the toilet overloaded with waste products. People are getting so used to auto flush that they forget to flush. Sadly, many forget to wash their hands after using the bathroom. In most cases, the sinks have automatic faucets. and soap dispensers. This helps with cleanliness, as you don’t have to touch the faucets.

At times, the automatic faucets, flushing mechanisms, and soap dispensers fail to work. You might have trouble getting soap and water. But usually, you can find a flush button on the toilet. You can always carry Purell packets. So, let’s keep things clean: flush and wash your hands.

How Much Harder Is It to Communicate in Today’s World?

By Mitchell Slepian

In today’s world, we have so many tools to communicate with each other. Does it make life easier? Yes. Does it make life tougher? Yes. Let’s sit back and think for a minute. We now communicate in person, by phone, text, chat, social media, and other ways. It’s not unusual to be sitting at your desk, whether it is in your kitchen or an office somewhere in the city, focusing on your assignment, as emails fly across your screen, your phone buzzes with countless texts, and people are contacting you on Facebook’s and LinkedIn’s messaging services. Does it make it easier? It can. Does it make it rougher? It can.

Many people get jittery as they enter the final stages of a project. As you’re launching it on your website, social media feeds, and to the media, you want it to be perfect. Once it’s been decided that the documents, graphics, etc., are final, the push begins. As you’re uploading to your project management software to start the distribution process, it’s often when it can get chaotic.

I like to remain focused, sit at my laptop, plug away, and be zoned in only on the project at hand. Too many times, it’s at that time when everyone decides to weigh in once again. My Outlook account is full of emails. Thanks to today’s technology, you can see them jumping out at you. My phone goes crazy with countless texts. Then there are the people who decide to message you on LinkedIn or Facebook. Or use Slack or Snap. Does this help you? Yes and No. But in many cases, that’s what creates confusion and leads to mistakes. I have been telling people at the final stages of the project, let’s use one stage of communication. I prefer email. I make sure to tell people to remember to hit reply all. Most of the time, this works. It keeps people focused.

Dan’s Attacked With Moldy Bread

Jerry and Gili were playing quietly. Gili was getting bigger. Jerry watched over her. She was strong. She still loved her milk. Sarah and David Benjamin were eating their baby food. Anat was briefed on their superpowers. She was ready. She expected her day with the twins and her kids to be relaxed.

The Drop on the Cyclone, Luna Park, Brooklyn, NY

She played Bauhaus the Cure in the background. She understood the kids would listen to whatever they wanted when they got older and developed an appreciation for music. But she wanted to push them towards goth. Who wouldn’t?

Anat was working on her taxes. In a switch from his usual beat of Staten Island’s south shore, Dan was out in the frigid weather patrolling Coney Island undercover. His expertise was required. Nothing unusual was happening. The Coney Island Polar Bears were in the water. People were eating hot dogs in Nathan’s, and parents took their bundled-up kids to the NY Aquarium. It seemed like a normal winter day at the beach. He texted Anat he’d be home in about two or three hours and asked if she wanted him to pick up pizza from L&B Spumoni Gardens. Of course, she said yes. Saying no would be criminal.

The polars bears were exiting the water. Near the Cyclone, some kids were goofing off. But nothing Dan had to address. As he walked back to his car, he noticed a tall girl, about 18 or 19, wearing a stained blue sweatshirt with the name “Christy A.” running down both sleeves. She was taunting some of the other kids. Dan figured it was just a group of kids goofing off. He didn’t see it as a threat. Until he saw moldy, stale bread flying at some of the kids. One piece clocked a girl in the head. She fell. He raced over to her to see if she needed help. Bread with larvae was flying everywhere. He saw Christy A. shooting it out of her mouth and hands. He yelled at her to stop. She started to jump up and down. Pieces of bread almost nailed him in the throat. Christy’s hair was fire red, as was her face. He pulled out his weapon and fired three shots. All were knocked down by bread.

Christy raced toward the subway station. Dan chased her. She nailed him in the eyes. He temporarily lost his vision. She hopped on the F line. She did tap her OMNY card. At least she didn’t jump the fare.

Dan immediately texted Anat. You’d think he would have texted the Coney Island Precinct that is in the subway station at Stillwell Avenue. He knew this was something that Anat and her “family” would handle better.