Downtown Pilgrimage

Some trips are adventures.

We don't know exactly what we are getting ourselves into,

but we are curious

and open.

Some trips are clearly a pilgrimage from the start 

or else a series of tiny pilgrimages 

to places we love

or places that remind us of those we love

I love the NY subway system. I love the challenge of negotiating the city through streams of people on these multi-levels of track and tunnels. I'm terrified by it, as well, but DH is a master of the subway and so it is no great navigational challenge for him. He knows when we should head down the subway stairs or when we should hail a cab instead. Some stations may be new to him, but he has the basic logistics fixed in his mind - from many years of commuting to school and wandering the city.

There is a certain beauty to the subway, in spite of the trash and film of grime that covers everything.

There is something beautiful in the grids of tile and support beams.

Some stations are gorgeous.

Seriously beautiful

Others, not so much. But they are alive. Buskers perform. People hurry.

Subway tile

I've heard of all kinds of stuff carried aboard a train. Here we just had a bike.

We headed to a station (in the same block as our hotel - this isn't my first rodeo) and purchased our 7-day unlimited passes through the not-necessarily-handy nor user-friendly machine. It is at times like this I think about how different travel is with the availability of credit cards. And how challenging it is already becoming to us as we age. 

We caught a train and headed downtown towards the 9/11 Memorial and St. Paul's Chapel.* Now, we didn't get there easily. Every time we have visited the area has changed dramatically as construction transformed the face of the neighborhood. We took a few wrong turns. We were almost blown down by cold winds whirling down the canyons of skyscrapers. Every now and then we would move around the corner of a building or into a foyer to check the map.

We slipped inside here - the New York Athletic Club lobby.

We were reminded of how much the children, when tiny, loved the revolving doors.

We had found ourselves down near the NY Stock Exchange (No, we did nothing to cause the recent free-fall). We only realized it when we saw tourists lining up for photos with the Charging Bull. Once I saw the "bull" I looked for the "Fearless Girl"*** statue. And there she was!  Few people were interested in this strong young woman. But as I started to take photos, a few tourists joined us. It was a strange reversal of the experience from our early trips with the children when people would ask to take photos with our three little blondes. We have photos (of people taking photos) at the Statue of Liberty as well as on the observation deck of the Empire State. There may be more, but those stick in my mind. So I snapped photos of the tourists and the girl. She is fierce!

Fearless Girl and with tourists

Finally we reached Ground Zero and took a few moments to stare at the elegant World Trade Center Building and more time at the National September 11 Memorial. Few people were braving the wind with us. We read names and talked about how fitting the design. Then we hurried along to St. Paul's, a place of welcome always. We would not face the museum on this day.

The water was off because of the weather. It was still beautiful.

The World Trade Center viewed from the back door of the chapel.

St. Paul's is where first responders came to eat their meals and rest between shifts. It was (and continues to be) a place of refuge.

I do not know how many times I have been inside St. Paul's, but I do know that each time it is different. Once it was hung with weavings created from millions of pieces of string, yarn, and ribbon sent from all over the world. It was also hung with long garlands of peace cranes**** as well as patches from police and fire departments everywhere. It became a sort of shrine for police, firefighters, and the world.

We returned for the baptism of a first responder and member of DH's reserve unit and later for the Army ceremony recognizing service members who were there during those terrible days. I try to visit whenever I'm in the city.

Once again we found the place transformed. The benches were gone - replaced by an open square of chairs, perhaps in preparation for lunch. The 9/11 history has earned a separate shrine in a corner of the facility. All of the other cards and memories respectfully boxed up and stored.

There is one bench displayed as well. It is a reminder of the makeshift dormitory the church became for so long as it was needed.

Directives to volunteers were logged in this book.

St. Paul's continues after 253 years of service to presidents and paupers and me. We warmed ourselves, lit candles, spent some time in the memorial room, and commented on the spectacular chandeliers. [No, they were not made by Waterford, but DH loves them anyway.] 

The center aisle with chairs and a few people. I took this photo because of the reflection of the chandeliers.

And here they are (well, a couple of them. There are more.

Next on the agenda was The Strand Bookstore. It has books - and so much more. It is almost overwhelming - where will I spend my allotted time? I drink it all in - the signs, the people, the colors, the T-shirts and bags, the cards and buttons, and the BOOKS (18 shelf miles)!

I eventually found the craft section and looked through the pottery section. I found The Zen of Pottery and it came home with me. I also found this copy of The Potter's Manual with an inscription.

My dear Martin, Remembering our conversation on art and beauty. I truly believe we yearn to become creators because of our constant longing for a spiritual connections with "The Creator." Here's hoping for you to find that connection that let's His creative spirit flow through you. Save a piece for me. Love and Prayers Always! Sarah Midzalkowski****

A few options for T-shirts. I got one of the standard shirts. It's a replacement because my dog at my T-shirt.

"Button, button. Who's got the button?"

The guy responsible for this temple of ideas, Fred Bass, died in January. He was 89. R.I.P., Fred!

One of my favorite moments was when we saw the bird woman in Union Square Park. Of course we talked. I asked if I could take her photo with the birds. She consented, as long as I did not show her face. We talked about the birds and the food she brings - seeds for the pigeons and sparrows, fruit for the starlings. She circled that area of the park and threw out the food in almost a dance. "Some people get mad that I am feeding the birds," she lamented. As we talked about birds, I told her about the herons and egrets at the ponds near our home. She acknowledged seeing them when she goes to Florida.

Bird lady obscured by fluttering wings. This is not the same bird woman I found when I Googled. That woman wouldn't mind the photos.

As I chatted with the lady, DH drew my attention to House Sparrows perched in the small trees and hopping around on the ground.

I noticed these Common Starlings. I am pretty good with identification of common birds.

What next, you ask? I suspect we rested before heading to Rye to visit JR, one of DH's high school buddies. We took the Metro-North train from Grand Central Station to Rye, NY. Even though it was a ride during evening rush, we arrived early and were almost the first to grab seats on the train. We had a lovely visit with JR and delicious dinner. We missed one train, but drove around these suburbs a little before arriving in plenty of time to catch the next one.

As my mother would say, "No one had to beg us to go to sleep."

Heading into Grand Central. It is definitely a busy place.

In this spot one can whisper into the corner and the person in the other corner will hear you perfectly. See how far away he is?

He whispered, "I love you." So did I. As we walked away we saw another couple try it. The young woman indicated her surprise at the quirk of the design - eyes wide and mouth open - or maybe it was the message.

The train emptied. I should have read this paper. Instead I took notes (to follow).

Checking email.

We were on the express heading out to Rye. On the way back to the city we were on the local and stopped in New Rochelle. I have taken this train from New Rochelle when OC lived there.

Back in Grand Central we found ourselves among the Friday night revelers. God Bless America!

NOTES: 

* https://www.trinitywallstreet.org/about/stpaulschapel/history

** https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2017/04/fearless-girl-reactions/523026/

*** https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2017/04/fearless-girl-reactions/523026/

**** I could not "make out" the last name on this inscription. I asked for assistance from some genealogy researchers and within a few hours they not only had a spelling recommendation, but also a FB page (and new name). If this pans out I will probably write about it.

Other stuff from the day:

Observed on one walk. We understand "the library way." We believe in it.

We were staying around the corner from the Empire State, but I think I love the Chrysler Building more. It makes me smile.

DH hunts the elusive regular coffee. I cannot order at these places.

Our lunch was snagged from the breakfast spread. We saved these great cups and used them the rest of the weekend. The coffee cups at the hotel were flimsy. These made it 3 days!

Notes for Metro-North:

Ladders and stairs

Tracks and trash

Empty trains 

Lights

Wires and pipes

And darkness

No cell phones

I hate being underground

We saw troopers and their dog

We whispered I love you and then joked

Giggling madly as another couple whispered-the woman responding open-mouthed, eyes wide.

We found our train and boarded.

"Harrison is the next stop. Harrison"

We are on the Stamford train.

"How 'bout layin' off da buzzer!"

Sky now. We are above ground.

City lights

Tracks and trees.

Barbed wire atop fences 

Heading to the suburbs with the briefcases and suits.
 

Stories from DH. He was a young man here. And he did silly, sometimes frightening things. He would have scared his mama to death had she not already been dead. [I worried about that sentence and so I read it to him, as I held his hand. He nodded and smiled. "Boy, that's true..."]

New Rochelle. Our oldest lived here for a time. This train did not stop.  We are on the express.

Only now the conductor is here - click click click - she punches the tickets. 

Click click - "Thank you so much. Thank you, have a good weekend."

Now folks are getting up and pulling on coats.

Ding-ding! "This station is Harrison."

Repeat

"The next station is Rye."

"Go sit over there!"

Two kids plop down. One baby starts crying.

On the way back now.

On the local.

 

"This station is Larchmont."  

"The next station is New Rochelle."

An altercation:

"Get off the train!"

"I was trying to take a dump."

"Get outta my way."

"Please watch the gap between the train and the platform."

"Pelham station first two cars must walk back."

Mount Vernon is next.

"This is the train to Grand Central."