I'm in a New York State of Mind (I [heart] NYC)

I don't actually know how old I was the first time that my Dad and Lisa took my sister and I to NYC. I was definitely young. We drove into the city and stayed for a weekend. When we arrived in our yellow Lincoln Towncar (yes, yellow - like, banana/nilla wafer yellow - agh!), we had our sunroof open, and one of my most vivid childhood memories is this... We drove down to Lower Manhattan, as my Dad wanted to show us the "tallest buildings in the world," as our introduction to the city. It was a cloudy overcast day, and as we drove "under" the buildings, as it seemed, my Dad told us to look up through the open sun roof. "Look up, now, now!" he said. There, we saw them, the Twin Towers. They were so tall that they ascended up through the could line, to a point where we couldn't actually see the tops of the buildings. I was amazed, awestruck, and in love with NYC.

Going forward in my life, countless trips to NYC have followed. The city is just one of those places that truly captures me; my imagination, my energy, my love of people and different cultures, tolerance, incredible food, color, and music. Whether it's the ethnic vibe that you can't escape, the fact that - as someone who often wakes in the middle of the night and can't fall back to sleep - you always hear something (honks of horns, people laughing, doors shutting, sirens, planes overheard, helicopters, motorcycles, horses clomping along shouldering a police officer or carrying a carriage, and so on) and therefore never feel alone... Or if it's the endless lights, the signs on Broadway, the music coming out of alley-hidden clubs, kids running in a tree-ed park, old men walking beside young women walking beside a new citizen walking beside a tourist from Europe who always dreamed of coming to NY... It's just - the most vibrant place I could EVER imagine experiencing, even after all my many travels.

And thus - I had to introduce this magical place to my beloved Yeats Valentine. Early, and often. Last week presented this opportunity, as Loveybear (Jeff, for short) had a project @ the UN, and needed to be there for two days. We decided to extend our trip into the weekend - but, as luck (damn the luck! EFF!) would have it, luck went missing that day, and Hurricane Irene rolled in, cutting our trip to a day and 1/2, as we had to catch one of the last Acela trains back to DC. SAD :-( Nevertheless, we went, and we got one night and one full day to do with what I chose, while Jeff worked. Yeats V has seen the Big Apple for the first time! :-O!!

One of the most magical trips I ever, ever took to NYC was as a child. In 8th grade - when rugby shirts & slouchy socks from Britches were in, and so was rolling the ankles of light-colored jeans [shudder to think!] - we went to NYC for the Thanksgiving holiday. We had front row "seats" on a key sidewalk to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade IN PERSON (a dream at 13-years-old!), and we stayed at the beautiful, storied Waldorf Astoria Hotel. My twin sister, Tyler, and I got our own room - which was really the sh*t, is how I felt at the time, and I cannot tell you the love I felt for this city during that experience. I still think of that trip and how lucky we were to go there, to have that experience, to see that parade in person, and to stay at that gorgeous establishment. File this under "things I do not take for granted from my childhood."

And so, this is where we stayed for Yeats Valentine's first trip up - the Waldorf. And again, it was lovely. They have the same pine-scented soap they had when I was a child, and as such, my olfactory & memory senses were in overdrive. The W has the zen feel, but this trip was an Introduction :) and so we had to go old school.

Taking the train to NYC is an experience all to it's own, and we LOVED it. I thought I'd read my book on the way up, but instead, looked out the window for the better part of the ride. Small towns, shanty-towns (hello, Baltimore's inner city...wow!), tiny, pretty little on-the-water towns, dilapidated mills and factories, farms, rivers, and so on. I just love getting to see a tiny bit of Americana on the way to the big city :) I tried to point things out to YV as we went along. Sidebar: yes, I know she's 8 1/2 months, & probably won't remember these things, but I want to expose her to everything wonderful & worth knowing about in this great and sometimes scary world, and I am getting started early! My prerogative. :)YV seemed enthralled at first, but I then realized that, b/c of the humidity, she was seeing her reflection on the train windows in an extra enhanced manner, and she was most excited at seeing herself in the now quasi-mirror. ;) I tried!

We had a wonderful day & 1/2. YV got a crib in our room, and I set it up for a while by the window...she looked out at the view from the 22nd floor, and seemed memorized. Everything must seem so big to her, I thought.

Navigating getting around the city by myself with 1.) a baby, 2.) a baby bag, 3.) my pre-req Smartwater, and 4.) a BoB jogging stroller, is just REALLY relaxing, let me tell you. Esp in 90-degree weather. When it's raining. But I digress. I went for a walk and found a random diner, where I sat and had a delish Greek salad with chicken-gyro meat (different and much lighter, of course), and then we (me + baby + all our above accouterments!) grabbed a cab, sans car seat, to the Natural History Museum. Holding my baby in the back of a speeding cab, sans car seat, was...a little intense. But it was also so endearing to me, and one of those things I'll never forget. Mostly b/c I was buckled in, and holding onto YV for dear life, cradling her head and praying we didn't get in an accident. Ahhh, life in the city. :) We made it there and back safe. AMEN.

We had drinks in one of the hotel bars, and then had dinner at Dos Caminos. Delish salsa, but not an amazing Mexican restaurant. I LOVED the tequila and design-your-own marg list, and the vibe was very cool. YV pretty much fell asleep the second we got there. SA-WEET! We made it a fun night, knowing we had to go home at 2 p.m. the next afternoon to escape [

the bitch hurricane] Irene. :)

Sharing these experiences with my sweet girl is absolutely priceless to me. I can't explain it...being able to share these places and people and experiences I so loved with my daughter - and Loveybear (!) - is just one of the most emotionally and personally rewarding experiences of my life, and it just keeps getting better. I am SO thankful to be able to do these things, and it makes all of the juggling of THINGS, and our efforts to expose Yeats to more and more, so rewarding. For us, and hopefully for her as well :)

Can't wait to return to NYC again...soon...for more time! I'm in a New York State of Mind.

Heroes...they are all around us.

In general, I feel like the use of the word HERO has increased exponentially. It used to be that soldiers, police officers, and those in the line of fire were heroes. Now heroes include teachers, those who work with children, those who advocate for the disabled/poor/downtrodden/challenged, Moms and Dads who actively advocate for their kids, residents of New Orleans post-Katrina, the anti-bully at school, blood donors, Oprah Winfrey, etc. Some of these folks ARE heroes. Some are people who rose above a challenge and succeeded. I do think there is a difference. Lately, I feel like I have been moved by news of the acts of heroes who emerged from every day people.

A few weeks ago, Jeff and I went to the Homestead Resort in far-out Virginia for a baby-free weekend away. It was SO nice, as I was able to play golf - which I adore - for the first time since the summer before I became pregnant - so, two summers ago. It was lovely and we had a blast. We had to take a shuttle from the resort to the course we played, and on the way there, we were the only people in the van. I struck up a conversation with our driver. The Homestead is in a rather RURAL mountainous area, where you feel like the resort supports most if not all of the employment in the area. You wonder, looking at what some folks do, how they make ends meat. And then there are the folks heading into the resort, paying $18 for a mint julep, and $400/night for a room. It's such a dichotomy, and to be honest, it wasn't sitting so well for me. So - I strike up this conversation with our driver...I ask about how work is during the winter. He explains he has three jobs...a wife, and two little boys (1, and 2-years-old). I said he must love the stages they're in now, such fun interaction between Dad and his boys... He said his wife also works, but to make it, he leaves for work at 6 a.m. - before the boys are awake - and gets home around 9-10 p.m., after they've gone to bed. He works 6-7 days a week, so it doesn't leave much time to spend with his boys. I said, "that's a shame and I am sure it's hard, I'm sorry." He said it was okay, and that he took solace in the fact that he would always be able to look at his boys and assure them their Daddy worked his butt off FOR THEM to have a better life. I thought that was so selfless - and so true. In the life of those little boys, their Dad - even if not now, but certainly later - is their hero.

On the way back to the resort from the course, with the same driver, we had another couple with us in the van. They were in their mid-50s and on a mini vaca, from Bucks County, PA. We struck up a conversation, and they asked where we lived - we said Arlington, in the DC area, and the gentleman said their nephew lived in Silver Spring, & that DC was a lovely area. I asked what brought their nephew to Silver Spring, assuming he might work for Discovery Communications, which is headquartered there. He responded, "He lost both legs and an arm in Afghanistan and has been there for over a year rehabilitating." I swallowed hard. He had been a medic, specific to SEALS, and there he was, with such a grave injury. I mentioned that I had worked at the Fisher House at Walter Reed (http://www.fisherhouse.org/) as a volunteer many times, and asked if he had been there... His nephew had been there for several months, right when he arrived there from Germany (where all injured soldiers go first before coming back to the States), but was now in the rehab and prosthetic facility. He said his nephew had been married in a small ceremony just before he deployed, and they had planned a big ceremony and reception for after, but - then he was so badly injured. When he arrived back in the States, he told his wife that he understood if his injuries were too severe for her to want to be with him, or take on a life with an amputee who would always need assistance. She refused and said this only made her love him more. OF course, at this point, tears are welling up in my eyes. The man went on to say their families, town(s), churches, and friends had organized dozens of fundraisers to support the couple, and that they are to be married in Nov - in that big ceremony, with a big reception. His nephew's goal is to walk down the aisle without aid, that by then he hopes to have struggled to assimilate to his prosthetic legs (an apparently horribly painful process). He has asked of his mother, should he fall as he is coming down the aisle, that she not make a noise, not cry, and certainly not run to help him; to let him lift himself up and get down the aisle on his own. I cried - I was so moved by this man's strength. This young man, who's life changed in an instant, and who wants to stay in the service to counsel other medics in his position re: what to do if they are injured and how to mentally help soldiers on the field in similar situations.

I said, "this man is such a hero..." And his Uncle said, he is, but that his nephew hates that word. His nephew believes heroes are men that lead them into battle, the doctors who are helping him recover, the soldiers who helped apply the tourniquets to his legs so he wouldn't bleed out. I thought, as I sat there wiping away tears, it's amazing that those who are most deserving of the "hero" title never want to accept it.

I was at a family funeral yesterday at Arlington National Cemetery - a beautiful ceremony to celebrate the life of my grandfather's first cousin, who's husband had been a Col in the Army and who passed on years prior. As we were sitting in the cemetery admin offices, waiting for them to organize our procession, an older woman on the couch next to me started asking questions about Yeats Valentine. She asked if we were the 2 p.m. burial. I said, yes, and she remarked that they were the 3 p.m., and that it was lovely we had so many people there to bury our loved one. They had come in from Boston for the burial, and she was there with just three other family members - her mother, her sister, and her husband. They were there to bury her father, who had been a POW in WWII. I was moved, b/c again, a hero... We had our burial, and as we were in the car leaving, I was telling my Mom about this woman; we drove past a burial off in a plot we were passing...12 soldiers were lined up to a gun salute, and there were just four people under the tent covering a plot...there was this small family from Boston, saying goodbye to their hero. The image was beautiful.

Also in this week, I found out about a friend who's mother had, in 2009, fallen from a tree trying to rescue her cat in icy weather; she fell, and was paralyzed. She is on Medicare, living in a nursing home, lost her home through foreclosure b/c she had lost her job & salary, and my friend is raising money to buy a handicap-accessible van - which are VERY expensive - in order to include her mother in more of her life. This friend had NEVER mentioned this before. She is shouldering much of the stress and emotion of this situation on her own...and taking care of her mother at the same time. There is no doubt she is her mother's hero, and her mother's guardian angel. I feel honored to be her friend.

As we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I watched an in-depth special about the day, and the weeks and efforts following, on the National Geographic channel. If you can catch it - it is worth it. And if you never read the 9/11 Report (I had to for work, but it was obviously an interesting and terrifying read), I suggest it even more. It is important to understand how and why we arrived at that day, at that event. Regardless - much of the program focused on first responders. Not just firefighters - but regular, every day citizens who, despite their own fear, families at home, and shock - selflessly helped others find stairwells, carried the handicapped down countless stairs, helped men from under rubble, etc. It was tremendously moving. These everyday HEROES changed others' lives forever by their selfless acts; not for accolades or congrats, celebration or monetary reward, but - out of the need and want in their hearts to do MORE. Whoever says humanity is decaying has not heard or known of these wonderful people. I pray for all of their families, and for their souls.

What heroes exist in your life? May we thank them for ALL they do.