Tag Archives: relationships

Jun19

Belgians and Punishment at the Met

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I move amongst daggers, pendants, golden calligraphy, amulets, candlesticks, jugs, bird pins, perfume sprinklers, jewels.  The fingers of another time offer these gifts.  I’d like to lay down my Marc Jacob’s bag and pink Gucci glasses onto Fifth Avenue, surrendering my eyes to a blurred and beautiful world.  I tell my emails to stand in line, and they bunch together, hands on hips, sending each other on pretzel runs to the corner bodega while I gaze at nudes.  Unfurled and alone at the Met, I imagine myself sitting on crimson cushions, sharing goblets of wine with ghosts whose indigo stained hands rest on my knee with love.  It feels holy to breathe space around these objects.  In the sculpture garden, I toss two wishes into a sea of shiny wishes, and the collective gasp of still stone creatures warms my shoulders.

 The museum closes, and I travel from Rome to Egypt to Syria to 82nd Street.  Europeans sprinkle the museum steps and sidewalk, and I walk towards a couple leafing a map. 

An and Kristof are in New York for the last two weeks of a six month long vacation.  They come from Belgium.  Their eyes sparkle and their skin crinkles.  I am amazed by their travels and ask for details.  They tell me that first they went to Asia – China, Vietnam, and Cambodia.  Then they went to Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, and then the west coast of North America.  Now they’re in New York, and they’re going to Guatemala last.  They stand close to each other.

An is a social worker who works with mentally disabled people.  She took a leave from her job to travel.  Kristof quit his job – he was a campaigner for an animal rights organization. 

Two years ago they went to Africa and last year they went to Peru, and they always dreamed of travelling for a longer time.  An’s wind band decided to go on tour to China last December.  An plays the clarinet, piano, and the trombone.  The couple knew that a friend was getting married in Tasmania in February, and they thought…let’s not fly back to Belgium from China and then leave again one month later for Australia.  So two months became three months and three months became six months, and they started to tour the world together.

An and Kristof outside the Met

I ask them how the trip has affected their relationship.  An says, “Oh, people said – six months together?  You’ll have a lot of fights and you won’t know what to say to each other any more.”  Kristof laughs, and says that their travel was a confirmation of their relationship, that it’s been an unbelievable six months.

They met at a student’s home in Belgium eight years ago. 

In the museum, An and Kristof saw statues from Greece, Egypt, and Europe.  Kristof says, “Auguste Rodin is one of An’s favorites.  We saw the Burghers of Calais, which we saw in Paris, too.  I think it’s a replica here.  I really love masks – African masks.  We saw things here that we also saw in Australia and New Zealand.  I was a little bit refusing to come to America.  The image of America is totally different than what we experienced here.  It’s unbelievable.  The west coast, the four corners, and now New York- it’s unbelievable.  The image of America is not always that great in Europe.  But together with Vietnam, it’s the best part of the trip.”

Luckily, for An and Kristof, the United States and Vietnam are no longer engaged in active combat.  I ask them what their personal impression of America was before coming here.  An thought of America as a country perpetually at war.

Kristof says, “The image of America is old, conservative, Republican.  It’s totally not the case.  Everyone helps you in the subway.  We had the totally wrong image, I confess.”

I ask them to tell me about their travels. 

Kristof shares, “Once we were making some mistakes about booking a hotel.  We realized at 9 at night we would have to sleep in the car.  We were between Yosemite and San Francisco.  We couldn’t find a motel with any vacancies.” 

An says, “First we saw an RV camp but we couldn’t find anyone who was responsible for the RV camp.  So next door was a church and there was a big parking lot, so we thought it would be ok to stay there.  There was one camper in the parking lot and the woman came out of it and started looking at our car.  I got out of the car and explained the situation.  She said, ‘This is actually the minister’s house.  The minister and his wife live here.  It’s a home.  You just have to ask if it’s ok to sleep here, and probably it will be ok, but just ask their permission.’  So we went to the house.  I was thinking – can we just leave?  We have to ask a minister?  We’re not Christian people!” 

“A woman opened the door and I explained our situation, and she said – it’s ok for me, and the minister will probably think it’s ok, too, so just park here.  So in the evening, we were taking our sleeping bags and organizing the car because it was full of stuff.”

Kristof interjects, “We were really changing clothes.”

An admits, “Yah, we were changing clothes.  It was really hot.  We were putting on shorts.  A car came, and I was like – oh shit. I put on my shorts.  There were flashing lights.  It was the police.”

“The sheriff came and said, ‘What’s going on out here.  And we explained the situation.  I said, the minister’s wife said it’s ok, and he said ‘I’m the minister.’”

“He was the sheriff and the minister.  In Belgium, that’s really something that we always thought could happen in America – that the officer of law is also the minister.  If you get a ticket, suddenly you have to go to the preacher.  We laughed a lot about that.”

Oh holy America, where in some states, the job requirements for the sheriff match the job requirements for God’s emissary.  Do we judge and punish as a country?  Then I think about guillotines and the Crusades.  Judgement and punishment does not belong only to the United States.  What about Dostoyevsky?  What about ethnic cleansing?  Just a couple of hours earlier I stood before a Roman sarcophagus from the 300s with the inscription: “If anyone shall dare to bury another person along with this one, he shall pay to the treasury three times two thousand. This is what he shall pay to the city of Portus, but he himself will endure the eternal punishment of the violator of graves.”

My parents would never speak to me like that.  Eternal punishment strikes me as harsh.  Authority?  Blech.   What is the point of Roman magistrates paroling the Elysian Fields? 

An and Kristof smile easily.  They talk easily.  I like what they wear – An wears a poofy white skirt.  I like the lines in their faces.  I like that they only planned to come to the Met for 20 minutes.  My European friend once said that Manhattan is an island off the coast of Europe.  Well, we certainly don’t wear cowboy hats in the city, and I have no desire to hang an American flag out of my 3rd floor walk up window.  But…how European are we?  Do we take naps?  Can we pick figs from trees in central park or fall in love by the Jersey Shore?   

I want to be still, yet from time to time, that preacher-sheriff appears on my liberal Jewish free to be you and me shoulder admonishing me through missing teeth that my hair is too long and my heart is beating too softly, and there is a litany of things I should to be doing – anything but what I am doing in this moment.  Surrendering to the romance and spirit of life sometimes feels like medieval Texas torture. 

On a trip to Jerusalem fifteen years ago I met a friend sitting on a couch and drinking beer from a communal refrigerator.  We spoke of love (and sex) in the ancient city.  When I left An and Kristof, this out of touch friend’s name appeared in my head.  She is from Belgium.  We haven’t been in touch in over ten years.  I emailed her when I got home, and the next day she wrote back.  These ghosts are  alive, making pottery, playing music, getting married.  My friend from Belgium spells October Oktober and has a cat named Sjimmie.

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Mar14

Love and Barneys

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I’m grateful for my unresponsive landlord, who has left me without light in my apartment for the past few days.  My bedroom lights blew out, my ceilings are high, and I am short.  I dress myself in the dark.  Caste out of my cave on the first spring-like day, I wander to the West Village to run some errands.  On my way to Chelsea Market from 13th Street and 7th Ave, I see Will Ferrell jog down 13th Street in a t-shirt.  In my head, I see myself running after him in my black trench coat and peep toe flats.  I play it cool.  I am amused because earlier that morning, I saw Will on the Today Show while sipping coffee in my pajamas.

At Chelsea Market, my brain comes alive as my salmon salad from Friedman’s Lunch swims inside my blood.  After lunch, I buy black cherry balsamic vinegar, and I walk up to the High Line to greet the sunshine.  When I overheat, I move to the shade and pull out my library book about nonviolent communications.  Two stylish women who look like they’re in their 50s sit at a table next to me.  They have shopping bags.  They chat. They sit quietly.  As Marshall Rosenberg leads me through how to listen to people empathically, the women kiss on the lips.  I watch as they stroll towards the stairs on 16th Street, holding hands. 

My iPhone battery is dying, so I cross the street to charge my phone at Starbucks.  The kissers walk into Starbucks a few minutes later.  I feel excited to see them again – just like Will Ferrell – twice in one day.  I want to talk to them.  I pack my bag and walk towards the door, stopping at their table.  I introduce myself.  I barely have to explain myself.  The chatty woman tells me that her name is Gail, and her girlfriend – let’s call her Gloria.  Gail moves her shopping bags from a seat and I join them at their little round table.  I tell them that I saw them on the High Line earlier, and ask what they were doing there.

Gail, on the left, lives in the neighborhood, and says it was a nice day to walk on the High Line. 

I ask if they’re a couple, and Gail tells me they’ve been a couple on and off for twenty years – more recently on for two years.  I ask how they met, and Gail tells me that twenty years ago Gail was promoting parties for women at different clubs.  One night in the middle of winter, she went to a friend’s party in Tribeca, which she mentions, was not the Tribeca of today.  There was a snow storm that night – a blizzard.  Gloria also came to that Tribeca party.  The following week, Gloria came to a party that Gail threw. 

I ask Gail what Gloria was wearing.  I think that is a quintessential question for people in love for so many years.  At the moment you recognize the person you will love, do you see the shade of her eyes or the shape of her dress?

Gail didn’t remember exactly what Gloria was wearing, but she did know what she was wearing: vintage black ski pants, a jacket with a lot of zippers, and a scarf.  They laugh.

Gail says, “I don’t know what she was wearing.  Gloria always had an amazing sense of style.  Her hair was red then. Maybe those were her Gigli days.”

Romeo Gigli is a designer.  I had to google that.  I ask Gail what they did together when they first started dating. 

“I was working as a hotel manager and I’d get off work at 3 o’clock and she would come by at 3 o’clock.  We would go to the old Barneys a lot.  Gloria was a favorite there.  Everyone knew Gloria at the old Barneys.  She was a stylist, a wardrobe stylist.  The old Barneys was the best.  Barneys and Charivari.  She had a country house and we’d go there.  We’d do what everyone does.  We went out to dinner.”

I ask them how old they were 20 years ago.  Gail is going to be 57, and Gloria is going to be 65.  That would make them 36 and 45 when they met.  Gail came out in San Francisco in 1974, when she was 19.  I asked Gail if she joined the Harvey Milk happenings.

“I was in high school from ‘71 to ‘73, and that’s when Roe v. Wade came around.  Abortion rights, gay rights, black civil rights.  I graduated in ‘73 and then moved to San Francisco.  At that time some of the gay boys who I met working in a coffeehouse were going to the Castro to protest Anita Bryant at Harvey Milk’s camera shop.  This is before he was in office.  Anita Bryant wanted to fire teachers for being gay.  My nephew is graduating high school and his principle is an out lesbian – that’s how much things have changed.”

Gail tells me that if I had approached Gloria and asked her for an interview, she would have said no.  Gail told me she would never say no, but Gloria would, because she’s so shy.

I ask them if they balance each other out, with Gail being more outgoing and Gloria being more reserved.  Gail laughs, and tells me that Gloria is not shy around her.  Gail says, “We’re best friends.  Twenty years later we’re best friends.  I love everything about her.  We broke up for a few years and I had another relationship.  I realized that I just missed how compatible we were.  So, I said let’s talk and work this out.  She was seeing somebody else for about a year, and I was seeing someone for about two and a half years.  I realized I wasn’t emotionally available because I still had feelings for Gloria. There was still something there.”

 I ask if they live together and have a country house together.

 “The country house is gone.  Gloria and I lived together for 10 years and now we don’t live together.  Eventually we’ll live together again, but it’s just not that big of an issue right now.  When we broke up Gloria bought an apartment, and then my apartment went co-op and I bought it.” 

I ask Gail what they love to do in the city.

“Walk on the High Line.  Walk around. We go to the movies all the time.  We walk around the neighborhood.  Bed Bath & Beyond is fun with Gloria.  Everything is great with her.  Whatever it is, it’s always good.”

I ask what they are doing tonight.

“We’re going out with a couple that Gloria fixed up – her second successful fix up in the past couple of years.  She’s very good at it.  The first one is lasting four years and counting, and this one looks like it might have legs.  They’ve been going out for a few months.  It’s very funny how they ended up together.  They went on a few dates fifteen years ago, and then they got distracted by other people. Fifteen years later, they both became available, and now they’re on fire.”

My bracelet falls off, and Gail catches it.  “Is this something that fell off you?” she asks.

Yes, my bracelet – I made it.

“Oh my god.  It’s your bracelet, it’s great.  But you almost lost it.  That’s not great.”

I tell her it’s ok – it’s just brass.  I ask her if she likes my S hook.

“It’s really good.  Totally,” Gail says.

Gloria tells me she loves my blouse.  I love my blouse, too. 

Gloria and I chat while Gail gets up from the table.  She is easy to talk to.  She tells me she likes the idea of my writing project, and says that in New York, there is a sense of isolation even though we’re all over each.  We’re on the train and nobody’s looking at each other.  There are millions of stories in New York.  We’re all just trying to navigate life.

This talking to strangers thing is my attempt to unearth some of the stories that live quietly inside this city.  I also want to live inside Mister Roger’s neighborhood, and I imagine myself waving to Gail and Gloria while walking down Greenwich Ave. on my way to Village Natural with my friends, who also smile and wave at Gail and Gloria.

Gail returns to the table.  They are getting ready to leave.  I tell them they’re both gorgeous, and I thank them.  They walk out the door and I follow behind after I throw out some napkins and my coffee cup.  I see them walking down 15th Street ahead of me, holding hands again.  I’m glad they put on their ski pants in that blizzard. 

 At some point, I lose them, then I nearly collide into Susan Sarandon as she walks out a big black door.  I hear her admiring a woman’s puppy.  I love Susan Sarandon, not only because she created Spin in Gramercy for Yoshi, but also because she gave a kickass Oscar speech in 1993 that affected me and my 7th grade relationships.

We are all navigating life, famous or not famous.  We jog.  We sit in the sunshine.  We love puppies.  We fall in love.  We wear dresses and scarves and bracelets.  We tell our stories.

Dec10

Together Forevs

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In the crowded Union Square Holiday Shopping market, where everyone pushes ahead and smooshes into each other for a view of hand crafted jewelry and specialty salsas, Erica in the purple glasses stood still.

She was happy to talk to me.  Erica introduced me to JD and their 15 month old blue eyed daughter, Izzy Stardust.  Izzy sat in her stroller, laughing and smiling at me while sucking on a green stirrer from Starbucks.  She pulled at the zipper on my bag.  “Izzy’s been awake all morning – maybe it’s the bananas.”

What do you say when you’re first meeting someone on the street?  I reverted to – “Do you live in the city?”

Erica and JD got priced out of New York about three years ago, and have lived in Bay Ridge since.  JD told me, “It’s affordable.  The commute’s terrible.”

JD has a big beard.  I wondered what this big-bearded kind and patient looking man spends his time doing, and learned that JD is a stay at home dad and artist. 

“I’m the poppy.  Erica goes into Chelsea and works every day at a gallery.  Izzy hangs out all day with me.  We do our errands.  I do projects at home because I’m an artist, and I haven’t given that up.  I work on things that are non-toxic, and Izzy works with me.  I work with all kind of stuff – fabrics and yarn.   I make necklaces and accessories.  I use metal.  Recycled materials.  I don’t have a lot of money to go out and buy material any more.  I used to make big big big paintings, and I don’t do that anymore.  I don’t have the space. I don’t have the money.  With Izzy around, I don’t use toxic materials.  I recycle a lot.  You’d have to come out and see it.  I have it all over the walls.  Izzy helps me.  I’ll give her a piece of yarn and she sees it and I’ll put a bead on it.  I weave stuff.  She watches.  She’s pretty cool with it.  She touches objects, plays with the textures and materials.  When I finish something, she definitely knows it’s a necklace and she puts it on.  She knows what I’m doing.  We read books.  We read Dr Suess, all the Eric Carle books – very illustratey books for kids to touch and feel.  Bright Colors.  We read the Golden Books.  Frog and Toad.”

I think about my father.  When I was little, he chased me around the house with a laundry basket over his head. 

It’s so sweet to me that that JD and Izzy make art together, and sweet also that JD and Erica met each other at the Whitney Museum while volunteering there.  JD said, “We were both in previous relationships that didn’t work out.  We both dissolved our marriages respectfully, and we didn’t think getting married was necessary.”  Erica said “We met, lost contact for a year or so, and then casually started hanging out.” JD said, “So now we’re together forevs, without a contract, which is good – we like it that way.” 

 I asked how they knew they wanted to be together forever.

 Erica: “It just happened.”

 JD:  “I had a beard.  It was the facial hair.”

Have you always had a beard?

JD:  “I grew it out, and then I shaved it off in April and then she hated me.”

Erica: “He shaved it off in April and I barely talked to him for two weeks.  I called him mean names.  Izzy cried because she only knew him with a beard.” 

JD: “It was down to here [pretty far down] before.  It was insane.  I had it braided.  It’s coming back again, thank God.  Now I’m never getting rid of it ever again.  If I get rid of it, forget about it.  These two will hate me forever.” 

Erica: “I told him he’s not the man I loved….. I love you, dear.”

They kiss.

What inspires you in your art?

JD: “I look at a ton of magazines.  I look at a lot of Elle, Vogue, design magazines.  When I see an object that’s selling for $500-$2,000, I think – I can do that.  I’ve made things before.  I make stuff with my hands. I try to emulate the structure, the shapes, and colors.  I feel good once I actually craft something, and Erica will wear it out, and someone will say, ‘My God, where did you get that, can I get one, do you know the designer?’ And she’ll say, ‘He’s at home. He’s making stuff with the little one.’” 

“Erica inspires me.  What I see in the street inspires me.  That influences all the work I do.  Inspiration comes from observation every day.  Catching things that people take for granted. Paying attention.”

How have you found people who will buy your art?

JD: “It’s by accident.  The canvas is people wearing it.  Friends will come to my place, they’ll have a coffee, and I’ll say, ‘Would you mind taking one of these with you?’  They say, ‘Oh yeah, sure.’  I’ll say, ‘Just wear it out and don’t tell anyone who made it, and tell me what their real reaction is.’  And then you get the real feedback.  So far it’s all been, thank God, positive. My paintings didn’t always sell.  So the fact that people are digging the jewelry…..  It has to be out in public, it has to be tested. 

Any story that you’d like to share with me?

JD: “I don’t have any stories right now.  I do write every day, and if I had it with me I’d read it to you.  I write 10 minutes every day – poems, fiction, and so far I have 4 plays under my belt, with some things published, which is pretty cool. 

Lately I’ve been down in South America.  Erica’s father’s from Brazil. My fiction is about my memories of New York– being here for a long time, and going to South America.  We went to Rio this summer, and Izzy met her grandfather for the first time.  She had her passport before she was one. 

As we wrap up our conversation, I feel grateful.  I am grateful to live in this city where people are good, open, and creative. New York has a reputation of being full of ambition and powerful people who are rich and wear suits and shave every day, and sure that exists.  And…believers, dreamers, artists, good fathers, and good mothers live here, too.  It’s also likely not as black and white as I sometimes see it.  I have evidence that powerful people have read “The Lonely Caterpiller” to their children.

I’m going to make a plan to check out JD’s art in Bay Ridge.  Yesterday, Yoshi texted me to ask if I wanted to grab some Japanese food and keep talking.  I will keep you posted on how these random connections continue.