NYC’s Sunset Spots: Brooklyn Bridge Park

February 14th, 2012 · Explore New York

In a city that is perpetually in motion, a sunset is an irresistible invitation to become still. Our days often have an agenda. Our walks are often preoccupied. But then it happens: At dusk the sun, sky, and water begin their dance of countless subtle movements. In New York’s open spaces edged by sky and water, with the swirl of a surrounding city and the bigness of skyscrapers and bridges, all is in motion and I am in stillness.

This was the experience of a sunset on a brisk winter day at Brooklyn Bridge Park, as I watched the shifts of light, color, mood, and shape unfold, minute by minute. It is a glorious place to do this. Sitting at a distance from the moving traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge and the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and the boats and ships on the East River and in New York Harbor feels like the stationary center of a quieter, calmer, more beautiful world. It is a world of sight and sound apart from the teeming city, a capability that this huge open space – an 85-acre site in various stages of development as a park on the East River – affords. Brooklyn Bridge Park, thus, joins the list of Mindful Walker “Great Sunset Spots” in New York City. (For the others, see a list following this column.)

Each sunset offers a certain unpredictable twist in color. When I first arrived at the park a short time before sunset, the sun was emerging from a deep bank of dark gray clouds, sending shafts of light-golden rays to the horizon below. Gradually, as the sun edged closer to the horizon, the gold became stronger and tinged with spots of red and pink. Silhouetted shapes and cloud strokes changed constantly. With each passing minute, the pink deepened to rose pink.

Deep Gray And Gold Before The Sunset, New York Harbor
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Walking As Solace and Joy

December 12th, 2011 · Beyond Gotham

Walking has saved my life and restored my serenity more times than I can count. When times have come that throw off life’s balance and inner peace, I know I have not walked enough.

Walking has always been part of my life’s journey, a way to constantly look around at the world each day, no matter where I am. Through it, I discover more about my surroundings as well as develop my inner self. It’s a crucial part of my spiritual practice. Recently, I realized again – and very intensely – how much walking means to my life and how much more I want to share this gift with others. Feeling the loss as I became off-track and didn’t walk as much as usual, I reflected on how walking came to be one of my pathways to peace and appreciation of life each day.

These insights came in the midst of a chaotic, demanding time this autumn, one that has brought both major disruptions and blessings. If you are a regular visitor to Mindful Walker, you may well have noticed an interruption and much longer time spans between postings this autumn. My walking and my writing so often go hand in hand.

Several occurrences happened that disrupted my life’s usual patterns. First, in mid-October one of my sisters had a life-threatening medical emergency, suffering a ruptured brain aneurysm. She could have died, and I rushed home to Pittsburgh as she was undergoing brain surgery. Fortunately, the quick actions of family members who were with her at the time that the aneurysm ruptured – taking her to the emergency room immediately – saved her life. We are blessed that the doctors and nurses at Allegheny General Hospital, where an ambulance transported her from a community hospital ER, were able to save her life and that she has come through the surgery as well as she did, though full recovery will take some time. Still, the entire event and my concerns over my sister’s health and recovery have left me shaken. [Read more →]

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Redeemer Lutheran’s Staying Power

October 5th, 2011 · Beyond Gotham

When we behold a beautiful historic house of worship, we may well find a sturdy and durable congregation that has also withstood the test of time. Both materials and people become a study in resilience. Redeemer Lutheran Church in Kingston is a sweet and brightly warm church set within the Rondout neighborhood of this Hudson Valley city. Its marble and limestone are excavated from rocks that are millions of years old. Those who designed and built the church a century ago chose the marble and limestone, among other reasons, for their magnificence, strength, and ability to last. The materials that are part of the geologic time scale become entwined with the time that humans keep, in years, decades, and centuries.

Kingston has many historic churches and temples, and Redeemer is one of its seemingly hidden gems. At 104 Wurts St., it is back in a residential section off the main avenues. From an approach walking south along Wurts Street, Redeemer Lutheran looks like it could be set in a town in the English countryside. Its light gray stone with beige trim gives an impression of stately simplicity. It represented one of the early 20th century Gothic Revival churches that broke from the more ostentatious mold of the Victorian era.

Redeemer Lutheran Church, Kingston, N.Y.

Redeemer Lutheran Church

In an important sense, breaking from the past matched the ethic of those who built this church. They were a new generation of Americans of German heritage who had been part of a nearby German-language Lutheran church that immigrants established in the mid-19th century, Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church, located several blocks away on Spring Street. Their ancestors had emigrated during difficult times in Germany and had settled in Rondout, founding a church that provided services in their native language.
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9/11: Still-Searing Images

September 16th, 2011 · Explore New York

Every early September a day comes that is just beautiful – particularly sunny, bright, and gently warm. On such days, I’m sure many feel it again as clearly as if it was yesterday. That Tuesday 10 years ago, the morning was clear and warm, with radiant sunshine, the kind that makes you cup your eyes when you look up into the brilliant blue sky. The weather brings it all right back every year: the morning of September 11, 2001. A day that began in beauty and possibility turned into one of enormous death and terror.

The light of the early day in New York City transformed in minutes to dark with acrid smoke, waves of debris and dust, and gray clouds that engulfed a large portion of the city. Looking back 10 years later, I think of that light and darkness of 9/11 as epitomizing the extremes of human nature caught in that event and its aftermath. The dark that came over a huge section of New York embodied the capability of man to commit incalculably terrible actions of violence and destruction. The light signified the power of human resilience, interconnection, compassion, and love. So many memories and images of that Tuesday and the days immediately afterward reflected one or the other.

World Trade Center

The World Trade Center in July, 2001 (Photo Credit: Brandon McCombs)

The first hours after the attacks in New York and Washington, and the plane crash in Shanksville, Pa., felt very chaotic. In those hours so little information existed to confirm who and how many had escaped the Twin Towers, who was surviving in the rubble, and who and how many had died. The rubble and minimal skeletal remains of the North and South towers were the most tangible evidence of desperate hope for life or, conversely, of death. [Read more →]

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Meditation: Looking Mindfully At Details

August 5th, 2011 · Explore New York

In the middle of a number of us playing soccer on a delightful summer evening, one of my partner’s grandchildren said, “Look at that sky!” The sky just before sunset was full of large pink, gray, white, and lavender swirling patterns above. How wonderful that she was aware of the beauty around us and shared what she saw. It was riveting. Though we returned to our soccer within moments, we had taken notice.

As it is with the sky, leaves, rocks, flower petals, waves, and other beauties of nature, so it is with the details and features of buildings, public spaces, and landscapes. The architects who have conceived of picturesque features and dynamic structures, the builders who have carried out their visions, the craftspeople and laborers who have painstakingly put in the tiles of a mosaic or carved wood or stone into distinctive, awe-inspiring shapes and figures, the muralists who have envisioned and painted explosions of color on blank spaces…all have worked to create something for our eyes. Their creations simply await our looking and our awareness.

If we open our eyes as we walk around a street in the city or a town, or down a country lane, and look at the buildings and landscapes, we not only will enjoy what our eyes encounter but we will change ourselves and our lives. I liken looking at architectural and design features to what Thich Nhat Hanh has said about eating a tangerine. In his seminal book, Peace Is Every Step, Nhat Hanh wrote, “If I offer you a freshly picked tangerine to enjoy, I think the degree to which you enjoy it will depend on your mindfulness.” In his tangerine meditation, he invited a group of children to each choose a tangerine, to think of its origins from its “mother tree,” and to peel it slowly, smelling its fragrance and noticing its mist. The children then each slowly ate a bite of the tangerine, savoring its texture and juice. [Read more →]

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Stained-Glass Glory in Chicago

July 11th, 2011 · Beyond Gotham

The names Healy and Millet likely will never be as well-known as Tiffany. But to those who look up at two stained-glass ceilings in the building that housed Chicago’s grand first central public library, George Healy and Louis Millet created an artwork that is dazzling, like Louis Tiffany’s, in that “can’t take my eyes off of it” way. Of course, the Tiffany stained-glass ceiling – which the Chicago Cultural Center proclaims is the largest Tiffany dome in the world – has drawn all kinds of acclaim and attention. The Healy-Millet ceiling not so much, but it is hardly the “other dome.”

It’s almost mind-blowing that two such domes are in one building. They are in the Chicago Cultural Center, a place in the Loop of high energy and community where you’ll find in any given hour an exhibit in one room, a singer next door, an art opening in another area, meetings elsewhere, folks reading and relaxing, and much more. This is set amid a building that is a spectacular artwork in itself.

The City of Chicago constructed this palatial building on East Washington Street and opened it in 1897, at a time when many cities sought to outdo each other and boost their prestige and reputation by constructing the grandest public places. The city government converted the structure into an arts and culture center, once Chicago’s central library moved to a new home in the Loop in 1991. “Be sure to see the Tiffany dome,” a friendly security guard said as I walked through the entrance during a recent trip to Chicago, and he provided directions. Luckily, I took a wrong turn at the top of a stairwell and came into the Grand Army of the Republic hall where the Healy-Millet stained-glass ceiling is, or I may never have seen it. What a sight.

Healy-Millet Ceiling
The Healy-Millet ceiling, Chicago Cultural Center

The Healy-Millet dome is both a marvel and a fascinating story.  It is a wonder of light, color, and pattern, and it’s very worth spending some time in its presence. Furthermore, the building and the dome reflect not only beauty and amazing artistry but history, telling of a city’s resurgence after a devastating fire two decades before and its desire to create a magnificent library for all of its people and a worthy place to honor Union veterans from the Civil War. Today, the stained-glass domes personify the continuing vision of some that it matters to restore and preserve such creations to their original dazzling form. [Read more →]

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A Bit of the 19th Century on Lispenard

June 10th, 2011 · Explore New York

Every once in a while I turn down a street in New York and suddenly think, “How have the bulldozers and the glass towers not obliterated this one?” Lispenard Street is one such place, a quiet street of a few blocks that is seemingly forgotten just one block south of the crazy, hustle-bustle free-for-all of Canal Street. If Canal Street is all elbowing and rushing, Lispenard is room to stretch out and walk slowly.

On Lispenard, a single building feature transports one to another era. Walk along Lispenard and look up at the elaborate bracketed cornice crowning 54 Lispenard to see the intricate inscription “Erected 1867” on the arched pediment at the center. It’s a building on the south side of the street, like many of the others along Lispenard and in Tribeca East a “store and loft” building – many four- and five-stories-high and about 25-feet-wide – where merchants in the mid-19th century sold and transported dry goods and textiles.

It was this and another building just a little farther east, 60-62 Lispenard, that first caught my eye and set off an exploration that ultimately felt like I was back in the 1800s, sensing a place and time in which New York merchants created proud and beautiful palaces marked by cast-iron storefronts and the flourishes and details that recall Old Europe. The neighborhood then was the hub of an international trade in things such as fancy goods, notions, hosiery, linens, artificial flowers, and jewelry.

Ironically, 21st century technology – combined with taking a few moments to stop, look up, and observe – put me in the experience of the 19th century. On my smart phone, I found the 1992 New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission (LPC) report designating Tribeca East as a historic district. As I walked on Lispenard between Broadway and Church Street, I read about who designed and constructed a number of the buildings, who occupied them, and what their businesses were.

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The Glorious Palette of Spring Green

May 19th, 2011 · Beyond Gotham

The verb “spring” originates from the Old English “springan,” which means to burst forth or leap. The noun for the season, fittingly, derives from that term. Each year at this time, spring enchants us with the bursting forth of blossoms and flowers – pinks, purples, whites, yellows, reds – from what which lay dormant in the preceding months of cold and longer darkness. Spring affirms life’s renewal, in all of its range of colors. Yet for sheer exuberance, is there anything more wondrous and uplifting than spring’s greens?

“Spring green” is actually a palette of many shades, thanks to nature’s process of mixing. The green of leaves and plants happens because of chlorophyll. This chemical compound is key to photosynthesis, the process that enables plants to combine the sun’s energy with water and carbon dioxide and convert them into carbohydrates as food and oxygen as the waste product. In the process, chlorophyll absorbs other wavelengths of light, such as red and blue, leaving green, which is not absorbed and is reflected to our eyes. Other pigments in the leaves – which photosynthesis uses but in smaller quantities – combine with green to create the different shades we see.

Perhaps when our beings long most for brighter color after a long winter, nature’s reward is most vibrant and enticing. Somehow by summer our eyes become quite accustomed to a green world, and we may take it for granted. As author and naturalist Hal Borland wrote, “The big leaf of any tree is so familiar that the wonder of it is lost. See it young, and that wonder is new again.” Watch a tiny leaf burst from a bud and touch it gently, and you notice its vivid green and its tender softness. Carved and curving leaves look and feel like the baby’s fingers of the plant world in detail and delicacy. [Read more →]

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Details, Details: Greenwich Street

April 27th, 2011 · Explore New York

“Manhattan” and “quiet” are two words that many people do not associate with each other and put together in the same sentence. Yet many pockets of Manhattan offer quiet, especially when we calm the mind enough to find the inner peace that allows it.

As one of those Manhattan walkers whose mind often can be preoccupied with swirling thoughts, concerns, the next destination or deadline, and to-do reminders, I’ve found architectural and building details are one of the easiest and surest ways to clear the mind and invite the quiet. It doesn’t take hours or miles of meditative walking either. It can be as simple as looking at the details of a single block.

Greenwich Street, between West 10th and Charles streets, is one such pocket of quiet with rewarding details, which I discovered after first stopping to look closely at a single, quirky, and utterly inspiring tree that is smack in the middle of a chain-link fence (see Mindfulwalker.com’s “A Tree Grows in Chain Link”). I was taken in by the quiet of this Far West Village block as I listened to birds chirping away on an early-spring afternoon. (Don’t they sound happy?)

The tree’s uniqueness caused me to focus on what was around me. Suddenly I started spotting eye-catching and intriguing details and features on this block made up primarily of four- and five-story 19th century buildings. What a mix of colors, textures, signs, and nifty adornments here, and such strong hints of the history. Soon I was walking the block more slowly, breathing more deeply, and seeing the details of Greenwich Street unfold. [Read more →]

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A Tree Grows in Chain Link

April 15th, 2011 · Explore New York

New York City has 5.2 million trees, and each one of them has a life story. For a very long time, a lovely European larch has marked the seasons for those walking in Central Park. It is a deciduous conifer whose needle-like leaves turn yellow in the autumn and fall off. A tulip tree in Staten Island’s Clove Lakes Park, dubbed “The Clove Lakes Colossus,” is renowned for its massive trunk with a circumference of 21.4 feet. It’s reportedly 300 years old. The ginkgo trees on Manhattan’s Restaurant Row, planted as part of a spruce-up project along West 46th Street a couple of decades ago, cheer city folk and tourist alike with blossoms heralding the spring. New Yorkers, to be sure, get to know their trees very well and love them.

So what is it with the tree on Greenwich Street that is connected to a chain-link fence? What is its life story? I can’t help but wonder this when I look at this sturdy, lonesome tree along the stretch of Greenwich Street between West 10th and Charles streets, in Manhattan’s West Village. Someone has actually linked it up to the chain-link gated fence to a driveway just south of 705 Greenwich St. The sight of this tree pretty much stops me in my tracks, as I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it – a tree so interconnected with a manmade object.

Tree in Chain Link

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Honoring Triangle’s Victims in the Streets

March 24th, 2011 · Be a Mindful Activist, Explore New York

A year after the tragic Triangle shirtwaist factory fire in 1911, sculptor Evelyn Beatrice Longman created a memorial, commissioned by the City of New York, to the seven female victims whose remains could not be identified. The city installed the sculpture with little public attention in the Cemetery of the Evergreens in Brooklyn. This memorial wasn’t mentioned in the press, according to an article on Longman’s work by Ellen Wiley Todd in American Art magazine, nor was it ever noted in Longman’s records.

Contrast that with this week, the 100th anniversary of the March 25, 1911 factory fire that killed 146 people, mostly young girls and women from Jewish and Italian immigrant families. Throughout the anniversary on Friday, the weekend, and the spring, at least 100 commemorative artistic, educational, and civic events, from plays to musical performances to exhibits and public art, will mark the Triangle fire anniversary in New York and elsewhere. One commemoration, the Chalk project, will bring a moving remembrance of the Triangle’s victims directly to the streets and to those who walk by, as it has done for the past seven years.

Such a public outpouring was not always the case during the past century. Since 1911, New York City has witnessed a wide range of responses to the Triangle tragedy. Though the horror of New York’s largest workplace disaster before 9/11 and the investigations immediately afterward inspired thousands of workers to join together in union activism and prompted major government action to better protect workers and improve factory conditions, the public commemorations of the Triangle fire were spotty until 50 years ago. True, painters such as Victor Gatto memorialized the fire, after having witnessed it at the age of 18, in a 1944 painting that shows flames licking out from the building while a crowd watches from the street. Such expressions are different than public events, however, and in the early years some feared that too much notice paid to this fire would only incite unrest.

The long-time gaps of silence in the public honoring of the fire’s victims, however, changed dramatically in 1961, as an exhibit, “Art | Memory | Place: Commemorating the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire,” at New York University’s Grey Art Gallery, details. At the 50th anniversary commemoration in 1961 in front of the Brown Building (formerly the Asch Building), which housed the factory, former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt was a featured speaker. The International Ladies Garment Workers Union (ILGWU) sponsored the event. Survivors of the fire, firefighters, and Frances Perkins, ex-Secretary of Labor under Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who had witnessed the fire as a young woman, were among those gathered.

Annual commemorations have continued in New York each year in the half-century since then. (Part 1 of this Mindfulwalker.com series explores a walking experience of the illuminating Grey Art Gallery exhibit, which delves into the tragic day of the fire, the immediate aftermath and consequences, and the various forms of collective memory of the fire.) This year’s official commemoration, again sponsored by Workers United (formerly the ILGWU), will begin Friday at 11 a.m., with music and a procession, followed by speakers and a memorial ceremony during which children will read the names of the fire’s victims and place flowers at the original site, on the corner of Washington Place and Greene Street in Manhattan. It is expected to draw thousands of people. [Read more →]

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New York Recalls the Triangle Factory Fire

March 10th, 2011 · Be a Mindful Activist, Explore New York

“Rose Mehl – 15 years old.” The words jump out from the flip side of a business card on which they are imprinted. Rose was a Jewish girl who lived on East 7th Street in New York, and she had a job as a factory worker. Her name and age are printed on the back of a card of the Remember the Triangle Fire Coalition.

On March 25, 1911, Rose Mehl went to work at the Triangle shirtwaist factory, which was located on the top three floors of the Asch Building at the corner of Washington Place and Greene Street in Manhattan. She never went home that day. Near closing time on that Saturday, a fire broke out, spread rapidly, and ravaged the factory in a very short time.

The blaze killed 146 people, mostly young girls and women from Jewish and Italian immigrant families. (Of 146 victims, 129 were women and girls.) They had worked long days of as many as 14 hours for just a couple or few dollars. Rose Mehl was one of those who died. What was she thinking toward the end of that workday? Were her thoughts happy ones? Did she look forward to going home? These are my thoughts as I see her name on a card commemorating the fire 100 years later.

To read the victims’ names and ages and to see where they lived and where they had come from is to enter a different world, at least a world that contrasts with what is prevalent today in the neighborhood situated around where the factory was. They were factory employees toiling in dangerous, often-brutal conditions for low wages. They were mostly in their teens to early 20s. They perished in New York City’s largest workplace disaster before 9/11. Today, if one stands outside the building where the fire occurred (now New York University’s Brown Building), you can hear the laughter and chatter of young girls and women who are now university students, passing by, often tapping their smartphones. For the most part, they live in a different world now.

During March – on the occasion of the 100th anniversary – and in the next several months, the city, NYU, and community groups plan to remember and honor the victims and survivors, and to focus on the Triangle fire in a variety of artistic, civic, and educational events. A key remembrance and examination, on view until early July, is an illuminating, unforgettable exhibit at New York University’s Grey Art Gallery, entitled “Art | Memory | Place: Commemorating the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.” The exhibit, which is co-curated by NYU professors Marci Reaven and Lucy Oakley in collaboration with graduate students in NYU’s Programs in Museum Studies and Public History, is located in the gallery’s lower (basement) level. It’s quite moving to take in the exhibit and then walk around the block, so close by, to view the floors that housed the factory.

Brown Building - Site Of Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire

The Triangle shirtwaist factory was located in the top three floors of this structure, then known as the Asch Building (now New York University’s Brown Building), in New York’s Greenwich Village.

The Grey Gallery exhibit is a well-researched, evocative telling of the fire’s history and its continuing impact, from the days prior, to the day of the fire and the immediate aftermath, and finally through what has occurred in the decades since then. It chronicles the event through photographs that show the factory’s gutted interior, family members identifying the dead, and funeral processions; newspaper articles and political cartoons; artwork; artifacts such as shirtwaists; and other objects. [Read more →]

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Messages From a Snowy Landscape

February 14th, 2011 · Beyond Gotham

How often have you heard the phrase “sick of winter” lately? It’s a phrase on many lips. As the frigid, single-digit temperatures and biting wind of recent days finally are giving way to the feeling-utterly-balmy 40s and the beginnings of melt – the inexorable winding into spring – take a long look and walk through the snow-covered landscape. Because it isn’t the vibrant new growth of spring, the lush fullness of summer, or the enthralling palette of autumn, we can tend to write off its gifts. It’s like we are waiting it out.

A winter landscape, however, holds its own in wonder. Is there anything that conjures up the word “blanket” so much as the sight of rounded and rippled fields and hills of snow? It is a world that shows us the elemental forms of growth, conveys in its patterns how winds shape the world, gives off a scintillating light, and also possesses color that is pleasing, soothing, and subtle. So many have spoken of this wintry covering as if we are just waiting for it to be gone, when it asks for us to pause, look, and enjoy.

A Field and the Shawangunk Ridge

Snowy Landscape

Perhaps this frozen terrain feels somewhat familiar but almost forgotten. I grew up in Western Pennsylvania when snow covered the ground from December to March. This snowy landscape, therefore, has been a joyful, beautiful reminder that yes, a fourth season exists; humankind hasn’t yet warmed it away here — though climate change is, indeed, occurring; and this winter is real and long like those I recall from childhood. (My love of winter may be helped by being a “winter baby.” I was born in January.) It’s an honest time to face the elements and burrow in while the land rests. [Read more →]

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Wal-Mart Will Not Build at Battlefield

January 26th, 2011 · Be a Mindful Activist, Beyond Gotham

Preservationists today hailed the decision by Wal-Mart to drop its plans to build a supercenter within the original boundaries of the Wilderness Battlefield in Virginia. In an unexpected move early Wednesday in Virginia’s Orange Circuit Court, Wal-Mart revealed it was abandoning its proposal to construct a store on the property. The retailer said it was withdrawing from a legal case in which preservationists and some local residents were fighting its plans, a Circuit Court official confirmed.

Wal-Mart has been seeking to construct a 138,000-square-foot supercenter on a 52-acre parcel that is within the original footprint where the Battle of the Wilderness took place in 1864 and very close to the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. The land where the retailer sought to put up a new supercenter was part of the battlefield where one of the critical turning points happened on the Union’s path to victory over the Confederacy. The parcel was on the northern side of Route 3 near Route 20 in north-central Virginia.

The announcement was a major shift of events in a struggle of several years that has pitted the retailer against those who believe a megastore would ruin land that has been revered for generations. A coalition of local, state, and national groups and concerned citizens, including historians James McPherson and David McCullough and actor Robert Duvall, had joined together in efforts to stop Wal-Mart’s plans. The National Trust for Historic Preservation, one of the groups leading the campaign, in 2010 declared that the site was one of America’s Most Endangered Historic Places.

From One Newspaper: “Wow!”

Preservation organizations and local newspapers applauded Wal-Mart’s decision to back down and go in a different direction. “The National Trust for Historic Preservation commends Wal-Mart for taking this important step,” said Stephanie Meeks, the group’s president. “By withdrawing the current proposal, the company has created an opportunity for all parties to work together to find an appropriate solution – one that will allow Wal-Mart to pursue development elsewhere in Orange County, while ensuring that this important part of America’s Civil War heritage is protected.” [Read more →]

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A Riveting Blue in the Lower East Side

January 21st, 2011 · Explore New York

Sometimes a building just says “look at me” before you know it and your eyes are captivated in curiosity and wonder. It was an icy cold January afternoon with a brisk breeze, on a walk south of Grand Street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. The brick storefronts of the 19th century tenement buildings beckoned warmly, with their delis, cafes, boutiques, offices, and taverns. Then suddenly in the distance the Blue Condominium appeared, above most of the rest and flanked by a bright afternoon blue sky, as if the two were appearing in tandem.

In a city where huge, nondescript gray or black metal-and-glass high-rise boxes are replacing the crafted 19th and 20th century buildings that have so much character, the Blue residential tower at 105 Norfolk St. feels like a gift. It is interesting, playful, and mostly graceful. From a distance as one walks on different streets and rounds various corners toward it, the building offers a constant interplay of angles with its neighbors and the sky. It can appear sleek and beautiful from one view, and bulky and garish from another. One can see differing patterns in its pixelated façade of spandrel (covering) glass in four shades of blue. New York Times architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff wrote that the building of angular forms and blue panels “has a hypnotic appeal.” Finding that my eyes kept looking toward it, I agree.

Blue Condominium 2

The Blue Condominium, from a distance

Blue Condominium - Seen From the South

The Blue building viewed from the south

Buildings evoke strong moods and emotions, and the qualities can change from day to day and season to season. The bold blue, in all its variation, felt cheering and light-hearted for a cold winter day with the mounds of snow and some ice in the Lower East Side – a little Miami break. During the hot months, its blue could feel dazzling and refreshing when the New York streets are steamy and oppressive. [Read more →]

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Lost and Found in the West 40s

January 7th, 2011 · Explore New York

Walking and loving a New York street is akin to a long-term relationship. It’s an experience of both exhilaration and dejection, of losses and gains, times of discovery and times of pain. Sometimes you feel all is lost, and during others you can’t believe your good fortune.

New Yorkers who love the streets know this roller coaster ride of feelings happens even in the course of a few blocks, a feeling of loss and then suddenly a spark of renewal. On a recent walk in the West 40s, I despaired at losing a well-loved long-time store that had closed up. Then, on the next street north I discovered an enchanting, welcoming little space I had never known before. Such are the ups and down of loving New York City.

Here are the “lost” and “found” of one brief walk in the West 40s in Manhattan:

Lost: The Hagstrom Map Store

The Hagstrom Map & Travel Center at 51 West 43rd St. (between Fifth and Sixth avenues) was, simply put, one of my favorite places in Manhattan. It was a map lover’s delight, an entire store devoted to maps from publishers throughout the world as well as to globes, map implements, guides, and travel books. It’s the kind of store where you just wouldn’t know where your explorations would lead you. But now it is closed. [Read more →]

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Order Unheeded at Underground RR Home

December 13th, 2010 · Be a Mindful Activist, Explore New York

One hundred and fifty years ago, escaping slaves found a safe shelter at the home of Quaker abolitionists who lived at 339 West 29th St. in New York City. The family risked their lives in harboring the slaves. During the Draft Riots that erupted in the city in 1863, the family came under attack for their views and some members escaped by running across the roofs of their home and neighboring homes to safety. A century and a half later, two women are fighting to preserve the 19th century landmark where a developer has allowed a fifth-floor addition to remain despite the city’s recent order to tear down the penthouse that alters the home and juts above its neighboring landmarked row houses.

The owners of 339 West 29th St., known as the Hopper-Gibbons House, have been under orders by the New York City Department of Buildings (DOB) to remove a noncompliant fifth-floor addition by Dec. 7 and to have nothing above the fourth floor but a stair structure to allow egress by the residents below. Instead, construction at the site apparently is proceeding and the penthouse remains, all while the city DOB has made repeated inspections. The two women who have led this preservation campaign, Fern Luskin and Julie Finch, have documented continued construction. Two visits to the street in the past 12 days by Mindfulwalker.com to check out the situation revealed that, indeed, construction is going on at the row house and no evidence exists that the builder is removing the addition.

Neighborhood citizens, led by Luskin and Finch; preservationists; and city and state officials had been watching to see if the developer of 339 West 29th St. would honor the city’s order. On Nov. 23, the DOB ordered the developer to remove any noncompliant additions to the house and gave the owner 14 days – until last Tuesday, Dec. 7 – to comply by removing an illegal fifth-floor penthouse.

Hopper-Gibbons House, New York

339 West 29th St., the Hopper-Gibbons House, with fifth-floor addition, on Dec. 7

But the deadline came and passed with no demolition, and the owner’s actions to apparently not follow the city’s order have turned initial jubilation and relief on the part of the preservation activists to shock and anger. [Read more →]

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Present-Moment Thankfulness

November 26th, 2010 · Beyond Gotham

In the book The Tao of Daily Life is a parable about the present moment. As he is chased by a tiger, a man comes to a cliff and escapes by climbing a vine down it. Upon climbing downward, he sees a tiger at the bottom of the cliff. As if things aren’t difficult enough, two rats – one black and one white – appear and start gnawing on the vine. While he clings to the vine, the man suddenly notices a strawberry, thick and ripe. As he holds the vine, he lets go with one hand and plucks the strawberry. He eats the fruit and discovers how delicious it is.

Each element is metaphorical, says author Derek Lin in retelling this tale. The top of the cliff signifies the past, the place where the man had been. The tiger lurking there represents the danger of dwelling too much in the past. The bottom of the cliff, Lin writes, is the future. The tiger awaiting there is a sign of the finality of death. The gnawing by the two rats captures the passage of time, in day and night. The scene, in essence, is the situation of life.

Thus, the man finds himself squarely in the present, between these two places of past and future. In the present moment, the man sees the strawberry, notices its beauty and goodness, and plucks and enjoys it. By doing so, the man seizes the moment.

This is our choice in our moments, and it is by no means easy. Our lives are made up of a series of moments, and today is the one certainty. It is literally the time that each of us is creating and molding, like a sculptor carving a piece of stone. Our tiniest movements of shaping will create the ultimate form.

Like that man in the parable, we have the “strawberries” around us, the gifts of today. It’s up to each of us to take notice, be aware, and be grateful for these gifts. As Derek Lin writes, “The strawberry represents the astounding beauty, bliss, energy, and vitality of the present moment. It is always there, always available for those who have the ability to see it and experience it.” The Thanksgiving holiday is a fitting time to remind ourselves of this gift and to ask if we are living with present-moment thankfulness. [Read more →]

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A Tranquil Patch of the Meadowlands

November 10th, 2010 · Beyond Gotham

It’s the kind of place you’d never guess is peaceful. It’s where the great Atlantic Flyway of migrating birds meets the New Jersey Turnpike of commuters, truckers, and travelers. On one side is the turnpike, its several lanes on each side heading north and south, an endless whizzing-by parade of cars, trucks carrying goods bound for destinations up and down the coast, and buses heading to Upstate New York. It’s adjacent to a shopper’s paradise of big-box stores, circuitous roads, traffic lights, and parking lots. A Wal-Mart flanks the other side of the highway.

On this side, however, is a lush wetland of marsh, a tidal creek, grasses, craggy limbs and trunks, afternoon sunlight accenting the russet and gold of autumn, and birds – many, many birds. Sometimes, it’s hard to even remember that this entire area once was a natural paradise before it became pavement, a human choice that singer Joni Mitchell caught so well in “Big Yellow Taxi” – “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.”

Then, however, comes a moment in the Mill Creek Marsh that brings only quiet and the feeling of the wind caressing grasses, and one remembers. Yes, it’s an estuary somehow persisting and thriving right up against every kind of assertive dominate-the-earth development of mankind. It’s the Meadowlands. Relatively speaking, the Mill Creek Marsh Trail is small compared to the shopping places, sports complexes, highways, service stations, train tracks, dumping grounds, and everything else manmade that makes the Meadowlands feel like a place where all humanity congregates and moves together.

But make no mistake – this marsh is natural, tranquil, and beautiful, 200-plus acres along Mill Creek, a tributary of the Hackensack River. It includes the 1.5-mile trail along Mill Creek Marsh that I explored and the nearby three-acre Mill Creek Point Park. It’s a success story in the sense that the New Jersey Meadowlands Commission purchased this area from Hartz Mountain Industries in 1996. Instead of the 2,750 townhouses that Hartz Mountain wanted to build here, the Meadowlands Commission enhanced the estuary, restoring the wetlands and re-establishing tidal flows. Moreover, it’s a unique oasis of peace and beauty in the Meadowlands, where humankind has so altered a natural habitat. What would this place be like with townhouses all over it? [Read more →]

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Going Dutch at Kingston’s Wiltwyck Inn

October 22nd, 2010 · Beyond Gotham

Call it Old Europe and the Dutch colonies meet the early 20th century. The Wiltwyck Inn is a petite building, by no means grand. This two-and-a-half story structure, tucked among plenty of historic buildings in the Uptown Stockade neighborhood of Kingston, conjures up faraway places and times long ago, thanks to its personality and out-of-the-ordinary, even inviting, shape.

During the many times I’ve walked by this building I’ve marveled at its warm, quirky looks and wondered where it came from. The Wiltwyck Inn looks the way it does because of the vision of one architect who sought, when he designed it, to connect the structure to the Hudson Valley’s Dutch ancestral roots. Completed around 1910, it opened as an inn, and its early years were steeped in both the graciousness of home and the adventure of the road, catering to women as a gathering place and those out “motoring” and touring in the early days of the automobile. Today, its identity as a commercial building is more pedestrian, since it includes law offices and an insurance agency, but the Wiltwyck Inn’s sweet design and history easily allows one to picture those days and its beginnings.

Located at 48 Main St., this building is a piece of Holland in Kingston, especially its distinctive features, design, and welcoming appearance. Befitting the Dutch style of architecture, it has a steep roof, rough and variegated brickwork, and stepped gables, which are the “stair steps” atop the gable ends. With its many gabled angles, it feels right out of Old Europe.

Wiltwyck Inn, Kingston

The Wiltwyck Inn building, on Kingston’s Main Street

The Wiltwyck Inn's Many Angles

The Wiltwyck Inn building’s many angles

[Read more →]

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