Transit strike

I've written several poems about or inspired by the subway system. Riding in a sort of imaginary bubble, observing and eavesdropping, watching other travelers or just zoning out and staring at a poster or a bit of grafitti, dodging the crowds at rush hour, stopping to take in a few minutes of entertainment in the Concourse at Times Square Station, listening to the beggars with their pathetic stories or humorous approaches -- all infinitely inspiring. So will the lack of transit end up providing any inspiration? We'll see...

In 1966 I was living in the West Village and commuting to the Upper West Side. I had rides in the morning but I was on my own to get home. I hitched rides, feeling perfectly safe getting into cars with strangers because the traffic was crawling at such a slow pace that I could have easily jumped out of a car before any harm could have come to me. No one who offered me a ride was the least bit threatening or annoying or anything except helpful. Oddly, neither I nor a couple of my colleagues really remember much about the 1980 strike, perhaps because it came around Spring Vacation time. I do remember photos of the then new style of women in business suits with running shoes. But I don't remember any personal stories about how the situation affected me.

Now I am in a different situation. There are places I'd like to be able to get to, but nowhere I really have to get to. I spent much of today knitting a new sweater for the best-dressed baby in the world. Tomorrow I'll deliver a gift to the new daughter of one of my young friends and maybe I'll try to see the latest Harry Potter movie. All in all this strike so far is allowing me to be somewhat more self-indulgent than usual. We'll see how I feel as the days go by if this strike isn't settled soon.

The Right Words...

      My essay was chosen for publication in Marlo Thomas's second anthology of essays dealing with times when someone received good advice at a pivotal moment. The book will be published in April, 2006 and you can find more information about it here. Proceeds from the sale of the book will benefit St. Jude Hospital in Memphis. Besides the fact that this hospital does amazing work, my cousin Brenda and her husband Peter are both researchers at St. Jude, so it's very special to me.
     Because it's a charitable donation to an important cause, you'll have to buy the book to read my essay, but you can read one of my poems here and another one here.

Katrina and her aftermath

     One of the people who managed to get out of New Orleans was my cousin Ruth. She initially went to the Superdome, but was evacuated to Baton Rouge before the storm hit. From there she managed to get to her daughter's home in Connecticut.
     On November 26 Ruth, her son Farrell and her daughter Cheri went to New Orleans to see what kind of shape her home was in. Ruth's son wrote about the experience and also sent pictures which have been posted on the website of his friend, Geoff Fox. Despite all the articles and features in the media over the past weeks, it is still almost impossible to believe the extent of the damage and destruction.
     To read Farrell's account and see his photos, click on the following link and scroll down to the Sunday, November 27 entry. The account and pictures are here.