New York City 2017

Donna and I spent Labor Day weekend in New York City. We met up with Donna’s sister Barb and two of her kids: Michael, who lives in Greenwich Village and works for Morgan Stanley, and Erin, who lives in L.A. but flew out for the long weekend. We also met up with our friends David and Allen. David went to college with Donna, and I shared a brownstone townhouse on Capitol Hill (according to the realtor; in reality it was a dump in Southeast DC, in an ungentrified area nearer to the Navy Yard than the Capitol with hypodermic needles in the street and where the liquor store had 1-1/2-inch thick Plexiglas between you and the cashier with a turntable where you would put your money and spin it to the other side and the cashier would then spin your purchase to you) with him and another person after college.

Friday evening along the Hudson

Our hotel was in Battery Park, at the southern tip of Manhattan, by the financial district, an area I haven’t spent much time around. Barb had arrived from Detroit around 2pm Friday and we got in about 4:30. We met up and walked a couple blocks to the promenade along the water, and watched the enormous Staten Island ferries traverse the Hudson and sightseeing boats circle the Statue of Liberty, and the people. Seeing Lady Liberty holding her torch as a welcoming beacon to the world’s tired masses – and our ancestors – was in stark contrast to the torch-bearing white nationalists that had recently climbed out of the muck in Charlottesville and elsewhere.  

 

We headed to a beer garden on the waterfront and relaxed, and caught up, and laughed while enjoying a bottle of wine on the patio in the fall-like weather. That hour was one of the highlights of the weekend for me.

We returned to the hotel and changed for dinner, also on the water, at Gigino’s. We met up with Michael and had a terrific meal outdoors with a breathtaking nighttime view of the illuminated Statue. Boats gliding along the dark water were festooned with colored lights.

 

After dinner we headed back to Stone Street to meet up with Erin, whose cross-country flight had delayed her arrival. We stuck our heads in one of the Irish bars on the street, expecting a lively crowd and perhaps music, but instead found a line of a half-dozen ghostly souls hunched on stools in a silent, gloom-filled bar. We moved on.

At the end of the street was a lively and energetic bar, two stories crowded with people. We were seated at a table on the upstairs level and traded stories and drank. We disbanded after a couple hours.

Trinity Church and Ten-Spot Al

 

The next morning we met up with Barb for breakfast and, more importantly, coffee. After the cobwebs started to lift, we went walking. We came upon Trinity Church, the city's oldest Anglican church, whose history dates back to 1697, when the royal governor of New York granted the charter and the first Trinity Church was erected. The current structure was built in 1838.

We walked among its ancient cemetery, with markers dating to the 1730s (some likely are older but the chiseled dates have been worn away by time, like the memories of the lives of many of those below).

But not all of them. We stumbled across Alexander Hamilton’s marker! Old Ten-Spot Al lays in rest at Trinity. The epitaph reads: “The Corporation of Trinity Church has erected this monument in testimony of their respect for the patriot of incorruptible integrity, the soldier of approved valour, the statesman of consummate wisdom: Whose talents and virtues will be admired long after this marble shall have mouldered into dust.” We need more like him today.

Inside the beautiful church Barb and Donna lit candles for their father Lou, whose epitaph could have read much like Hamilton’s.

The 9-11 Memorial

From Trinity we walked to the 9-11 Memorial. Unlike the strikingly blue cloudless sky of the morning of 9-11, this day was overcast, as if a pall had descended upon the scene. 

The immense twin water pools – sort of inverted fountains – lay at the sites of the foundations of the destroyed towers. Similar to the sepulchers we had just seen at Trinity, inscribed on the bronze parapet of the two square structures are the names of the nearly 3,000 dead and the responder units that lost members in the September 11, 2001 attacks and the February 26, 1993 bombing. Water flows from a tray on the other side of the parapet down the four 30-foot-high walls, then to a square hole in the center, where it disappears. Watching the eternally circulating water and listening to the white noise it produces is mesmerizing and hope-giving. (The accompanying picture doesn’t do the scale of these ponds justice.)

 

We lost track of time, then had to rush back to the hotel to get ready for brunch at Allen’s and David’s spectacular apartment in Chelsea.

Brunch and beyond

Soon after we got there, Erin, Michael and his girlfriend Aya, who lives in San Francisco, arrived. David and Allen had invited us for bagels and coffee. It’s true that there were bagels and coffee, but the counter was groaning under the weight of a lavish spread of salmon, cheeses, salads, vegetables, fruit, a home-made frittata and an amazing babka – an eastern European yeast-dough pastry – that Allen had started making before 6am. According to Wikipedia, there are Christian and Jewish versions traditionally served during high holidays; ours was the Jewish variety, filled with rich, thick chocolate (the Christian version is usually not filled or filled with fruit and topped with shaved almonds). I’m not sure that Labor Day qualifies as a holy day of any religion, but we were celebrating being together. Bloody Marys and mimosas flowed freely.

It was a delightful meal spent with good friends and family. Allen and David have traveled extensively, and so has Michael, thanks to a semester abroad in London, from where he took several excursions, and travel after graduation. The three of them had been to Morocco, an exotic place to Donna and me, and we listened intently to their tales about the desert and the relatively primitive existence there.

 

After brunch, the kids (okay, they are well in their 20s, but it’s a matter of perspective) went off to meet some friends. Us old-timers took a walk along the High Line, a 1.5-mile stretch of former elevated train line transformed into a walking park with vegetation and, on this day, apparently every person within a several-mile radius of New York. David, who is an expert about the history of New York’s buildings, served as tour guide and gave us fascinating insights about many of the surrounding buildings.

From the High Line, we walked to an arena-sized sports bar, where we met up with Barb’s kids and their friends. Donna and I really enjoyed meeting them. We’re not the biggest football fans, but we got to take a peek into the world of our niece and nephew, and we got to spend a good deal of time catching up with David.

My new calling: Pork roll and crab cakes food truck impresario?

After watching Notre Dame’s football team demolish Temple University’s football team on several dozen large TVs with Barb, her kids, their friends, David, and a thousand or so other mostly much younger people, Barb, Donna, Erin, Michael, Aya and I went to a restaurant called Burger and Lobster. It’s a fun place -- hip, packed with customers and a line to get seated. There are but three things on the menu: Burgers, lobsters, and combo platters thereof. Every entrée comes with fries and a salad. It’s simple, fast, and really well executed.

Two very different offerings to appeal to a broad market done well. My spin on that strategy: Number one, substitute burgers with Taylor ham (“pork roll”) and lobster with crab cakes. So pork roll sandwiches, crab cake sandwiches, or pork roll and crab cake sandwiches. With or without a fried egg. Patent pending, so you can’t steal my idea. Number two: Put it on wheels. I come to you. Charm City Pork Roll and Crab Cake Company. Just a thought.

Anywho, after dinner, the hearty (Barb and her kids and their friends) set off for mid-town to some clubs and danced into the small hours. Donna and I crashed.

Wrapping up a great weekend

The next morning, Donna, Barb and I got breakfast at a terrific diner (except no pork roll AND no crab cakes). The TV (they are ubiquitous now) was showing one of the Sunday news talk shows and they were discussing the North Korea crisis as well as the letter former President Obama left to incoming President Trump. It was gracious, heartfelt and astute, reminding Mr. Trump of his duties and responsibilities to the American people and the country’s institutions, and wishing him well. 

 

From breakfast, we headed back to the 9-11 memorial, and saw Ladder Company 10, the fire department that lost numerous first responders who tirelessly worked to save victims of the attack. We also toured an adjacent underground shopping mall. The entrance is a giant white spidery thing called the Oculus. It seems a little disrespectful to have a retail outlet in such close proximity to the memorial, but New York real estate developers maybe aren’t overly concerned about that sort of thing.

After a last walk back to our hotel, it was time for Donna and me to return to Maryland. Michael and Aya came down from the village to say good-bye.

It was a remarkable weekend visit with family and friends. The 9-11 Memorial reminded us that life is transient, and the end of our time here is unknown, so it’s important to wisely set your priorities and focus your time and energy on the things that truly matter – like family and friends.