Tag Archives: photography

450. NYC Photo Journal: In search of culinary perfection: From arepas to donuts

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The other day I treated myself to a manicure in a place where there is a small high def television at every nail drying station. In addition, the salon has a huge screen; all televisions are tuned to The Food Network. There are a  dozen or so lovely ladies with wet nails drooling over Paula Dean’s presentations, or Bobby Flay’s. I happened to hit Bobby on a good day: he was challenging the owner of Caracas Arepa Bar to a “Throwdown” challenge. Who can make the better arepas? Caracas won. Sorry, Mr. Bobby the Foodie Ego. You can’t beat this … Continue reading →

[586.] NYC Photo Journal: A visit to the WTC site: Part a: The Guide

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On July 11, 2012 I visited the site of the World Trade Center; I had visited before when one could only peer through the fence and shudder, when foreigners would line up and take photos of one another against the background of devastation and restriction. I watched over the years as the debris was cleared. I watched every memorial, listened to every name. I cried for people I never met and for the families that will forever miss them. But visiting at this point, with the dust gone along with the shards and blood stains, was a surreal experience. One … Continue reading →

587. New York City Photo Journal: Part 2: Observations and Photographs

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In the preceding post, I replicated the guide to the World Trade Center Site. It contains a lot of fascinating information about what was, is and will be. The story of the survivor tree is one to be remembered. Just so you understand the sequence of the photographs there are three groups: A: a walk around Battery Park City and a visit to the atrium that has been reconstructed B: the visit to the WTC site: as you view the photos, just keep reminding ourself of the scale of the people against the buildings and the pools C: and Zucotti … Continue reading →

583. NYC Photo Journal: 5-5-12 Brooklyn, NY

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Part 1: The New York Times review made me do it. If you click on the review and give a read you will learn what is typically New York City. To wit: David’s Brisket House and Deli is in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn. Once majestic it became blighted and crestfallen and was in no way a place you’d care to visit. But, like most areas of New York City in marginal areas, it is becoming–drumroll, cymbals–gentrified, which means the rents and prices of the old staid brownstones will be unaffordable. But this isn’t why I find this eatery so … Continue reading →

103. Original Poetry and Photography: Make Over

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I hope this is a crisper version, and integration of the original and first edit. I really hope. Thank you all so much, you taught me so much. Make Over (second rewrite 2/3/09) I have seen you in dreams. You are young and beautiful, sitting in a car, giggling with your date in front of your building, off Fifth, waiting for alternate side parking to end, having martinis that you brought down on a tray. I still grab at the moment, the one in my mind, where I can see you laughing, tossing the perfectly cut curls, white teeth surrounded … Continue reading →

99. Poetry: The Lake

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Ainsi, toujours poussés vers de nouveaux rivages, Dans la nuit eternelle emporté sans retour… ~from Le Lac, by Lamartine     photograph: Roger Williams Park, Providence Rhode Island 11/23/07   The inspiration: Oakland Lake on April 3, 2002 The Lake ©srk 4/02 The day before this day of bright sun, the water was the broken glass of a Perrier bottle; a sullen, yet rich green, refractive along the edges, heavy from the co-mingling of clouds above. Now it leans to blue then gray like the eyes of a flirtatious fickle female. On the promenade, a goose approaches, his broad breast … Continue reading →

9. Poetry: Needles

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The author’s grandparents Sophie and Sam Wasserman  original post 4/19/07 My dear Blogland denizens: Yesterday’s topic reminded me of my grandma Sophie who was born in Kiev, Russia, in 1893. In those days the borders changed every other week, so you could say she was born in Romania. The week that Kiev was in Romania. This poem is dedicated to her. She was not educated: the Tsar forbade girls from getting an education, probably because they were indentured to sew for the royals. Grandpa Sam (Wasserman b.1888 d.1949) sent for her and they married, and raised 4 girls in a … Continue reading →

3. When You Lose Someone You Can’t Replace

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Some things in life cannot be explained. Or understood.  There are no words. Suzanne on a class trip 1977, photograph by the author original blog 4/2/07  This morning I uploaded this portrait of  my dear friend, Suzanne, to my album.  I took it  while studying black and white photography at The New School, in New York City. We were teachers at J.H.S. 47, the largest public (then oral) School For The Deaf in the country. We were part of a pioneer team that created a standardized form of Signed English for the school. We used American Sign Language as well, … Continue reading →

48. Robert Moses, My New York, and 1936: Part 1

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Last week my son and I went to the Queens Museum in Flushing, New York, to see a part of an exhibit in various museums in the city on Robert Moses.  If you are not familiar with Robert Moses, suffice it to say he changed the face and infrastructure of New York City and its environs.  He was referred to as the “master builder” of the city.  He was a visionary, who was born in 1888; he was a participant in the construction of the 1939 and 1964 World’s Fairs, he was influential in getting the United Nations established in … Continue reading →

6. What’s Left Of Me

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I am a righty. Have always been. There is nothing I can do with my left hand that is anywhere near what I can do with my right. So it was strange when my left elbow locked, just barely noticeably angled from where it should be. It wouldn’t release. This happened maybe 5 years ago. A visit to the chiropractor; he took me by the hand and jolted my arm, and me, like he was pumping water to the desert. After I put my eyes back into my head, I looked at my arm. It hadn’t budged. (My shoulder approached … Continue reading →