An Angel Crossing 14th Street

Another daybreak; nothing remarkable to speak of. Getting the kids properly breakfasted, dressed and packed for school we walk out into the bright morning, the sun shining directly into our eyes. Turning down 6^th Avenue, as always, we merge into the pattern of people and traffic making deep grooves into the pavement.

The air – cool

The sky – a 9/11 blue

My heart – filled to content

We reach a main artery of lower Manhattan, 14^th Street, which is alive with a cross-hatching of movement, light and color. I stand flanked by my children; a protective arm about each of them. The traffic light is red and we are momentarily still, enjoying the warmth of the intense autumn sun.

My gaze comes to rest upon a woman standing across the street waiting, as we are, for the light to turn. She is dressed in a long white poncho trimmed with delicate down feathers. It is chilly and her arms are drawn tightly into her chest for warmth. Her pants are light blue and her hair, long and flaxen, is back lit with the dramatic morning sun. She is in a sort of trance; her gaze fixed upon something that does not appear to be there. Is she sad? Is she cold? Does she have a lot to do today? I wonder as I draw my children close. Her presence is comforting in some inexplicable way.

Melancholy

Awesome

Profound

Who is she? Standing there draped in white, trimmed with feathers, delicate, distant, and otherworldly. What is she? Standing out against the great concrete background of Manhattan and all its frenetic energy.

An Angel – she must be – dropped in from that blue sky; the one which triggers so many memories of horror and pain years after the attack. Small and sad with great wings wrapped around her for warmth, or is it protection, her petite face maintains that intense gaze which makes me think she is, indeed, seeing something I cannot. I lean over to my oldest son and ask him. “Do you see that angel over there?” He, entangled in his Mp3 player, does not understand what I’m saying. I leave it be and sigh. The light has turned green, it’s time to move.

The angel steps onto the thoroughfare and glides past, unaware of my presence. She is not here for me, perhaps another. I am but a witness to her momentarily extended otherworld. Her golden hair flutters in the chill breeze and she floats on into the light. I wish to follow but tear my eyes away and focus on my mission, my task, my purpose. We, who are but a little lower than the Angels, march on dutifully with our day.

But I, I saw an Angel this morning crossing 14^th Street.

MMN

I Think I Hate Learning:A Metalogue in 4 Parts

Part 1 – a boy and his Mom

Son: Mom, I think I hate learning.

Mom: Do you now?

Son: Yes I do.

Mom: How do you know?

Son: Because I’m bored when I’m at school.

Mom: Do you think you are bored because you hate learning?

Son: I don’t know.

Mom: Or do you feel bored because you don’t understand what you are being taught?

Son: Maybe that’s it.

Mom: Have you said anything to your teacher?

Son: No. I’d look stupid talking to him after class.

Mom: Why is that?

Son: What am I supposed to do, go up to him and say, “I don’t understand what you are teaching?”

Mom: Yeah, pretty much.

Son: Well, I’m not going to do that.

Mom: Who is the one responsible here, you or your teacher?

Son: Well, it’s the teacher’s responsibility to teach…

Mom: And…

Son: And it’s the responsibility…of the student to…learn. OK I get it. But I’m still not going to march up to his desk and say, “I don’t understand.” I’ll look like a stupid idiot.

Mom: Do you really think you are a stupid idiot?

Son: No, of course not. But announcing to the whole world that I don’t understand something makes me look like a stupid idiot.

Mom: Says who?

Son: I do.

Mom: So you are saying, in effect, that you are a stupid idiot.

Son: But I’m not.

Mom: Ah, now we are getting somewhere.

Son: What do you mean?

Mom: Do you agree that we all have the ability to say who we are in the world?

Son: Pretty much – I don’t have much to say in what I get to do at school though.

Mom: But that’s different. You may not get to say what you DO at school but you do get to say who you ARE at school.

Son: I don’t understand.

Mom: What kind of a student do you want to be?

Son: I dunno.

Mom: Do you want to be a slacker and fail at all your courses?

Son: No.

Mom: Good. Do you want to be at the top of your class?

Son: No, I don’t want to be that either. I don’t want to be a super-ultra brainy type. I just want to be a good student.

Mom: OK. I’m glad to hear you say that. So what would a good student do in a situation where he or she didn’t understand something?

Son: I’d go talk to the teacher.

Mom: Interesting.

Son: What?

Mom: Do you still think you hate learning?

Son: No.

Mom: Does school still look boring to you?

Son: Well no and yes. I get that I’m responsible for learning, the teacher for teaching and if I want to be a good student then a good student asks questions.

Mom: So…

Son: So what do I do if I start to get bored again?

Mom: What do you think?

Son: Ask a question?

Mom: That’s a great place to start.

 

The Tea Zone

Preface

While working a 9 to 5 job in Morningside Heights it was a simple joy – in the midst of a typical office day – to stop my work for a moment and brew a pot of tea. I’d sit at my table with All Things Considered droning in the background and sip away while the world swirled right outside my door. I worked hard to earn those fifteen (ok, twenty) minutes of respite and they were precious to me; afforded me a moment out of time to reflect and be present. I guess one could consider it almost like praying without all the Baruch Hashems.

Introduction

With the morning cup of coffee barely a memory, a good piece of work handled and the sun well past high noon, I turn my sights to the anticipation of tea. My ritual is loosely based on the British High Tea model. Below are a few simple steps to achieve what I like to call, the Tea Zone.

Establishing the Moment

My typical afternoon tea involves a healthy pinch of Earl Grey (double Bergamot if available and loose, if you please) into my art deco tea pot with matching cup and plate; a gift from mother on the occasion of my 38^th birthday. Though some may argue, I find the afternoon tea best served with a pinch of sugar, whole milk and three oatmeal biscuits on the side. Once fresh water is brought to a rolling boil, pour it over the leaves, top the pot and wrap it up in a clean white dish towel to steep for five to eight minutes (note: it is advisable to leave the handle of the teapot unwrapped so not to get too hot.) During this time, prep the cup with half a teaspoon of sugar and a drop or two of whole milk. The biscuits may be arranged in a pleasing manner on an accompanying plate, affording them the dignity of a good presentation before being utterly consumed. Sit back and appreciate the moment you are about to create.

The Ritual Pour

While lasting only a second, the pouring of the tea is a very important moment of passage in the afternoon rite. Start by unveiling the teapot from its warming wrap. Taking care not to burn your hand, grasp the handle firmly and dispense with confidence. Starting close to the cup, move the teapot up high over the vessel to increase the agitation of the pour, thereby helping mix together the sugar and milk. Notice the curling lines of steam and the gurgling nature of the pour. Smell the sweet essence of the tea and allow it to tickle your nose as you watch your cup come to life. You are entering the Tea Zone.

Side Note

If you are brewing loose tea you have the added pleasure of handling the tea strainer. Being right handed, I strain with my left. It is a tiny feat of dexterity to pull off a pour-with-strainer but a few practice runs and anyone who cares will look as expert as the Queen of England. This is most impressive when entertaining friends or co workers.

The Tea Zone

There is nothing quite like those first few sips of tea; flowery and bitter. The insides of your mouth may tingle but relax and let your tongue dance luxuriously with the flavors. Next you will notice the roof of your mouth taking on great warmth and radiating it to your nasal cavity then your brain. This is the axis of the Tea Zone.

Make every effort to remain in the Zone as long as possible. When the initial wave of bliss begins to recede, reach for the first biscuit and bite into its buttery, crunchiness. Follow with another sip of hot tea. You may allow yourself to emit a fully satisfactory sigh with eyes closed if so desired. Repeat until tea and biscuits are gone.

The Tea Zone, with its clearly defined entry point has a very gentle process of egress which may take up to an hour to complete. While the necessary clean up of tea leaves and biscuit crumbs may leave some feeling mildly depressed, rest assured this is only temporary.

TZt Warning (Tea  Zone time)

The lingering warmth of the Tea Zone is designed to carry you through the latter part of the afternoon and deliver you safely into the transition period towards evening. This is why it is important to observe the strict Tea Zone time (TZt) of 3:20 to 4:45pm during the work week. Entering the TZt too early may cause premature bouts of bliss followed by deep seeded disappointment that you still have hours to go before the work day is over. Enter TZt too late and you interrupt the dynamics of the time/space continuum that is the transition from afternoon into evening, causing confusion and possible dizziness. Plus you will most likely need to go to the bathroom shortly after leaving the Tea Zone and its best to time this well so as to avoid an uncomfortable commute home.

Happy drinking, my dear reader.

MMN

Metalogue: I Think I Hate Learning

Son: Mom, I think I hate learning.

Mom: Do you now?

Son: Yes I do.

Mom: How do you know?

Son: Because I’m bored when I’m at school.

Mom: Do you think you are bored because you hate learning?

Son: I don’t know.

Mom: Or do you feel bored because you don’t understand what you are being taught?

Son: Maybe that’s it.

Mom: Have you said anything to your teacher?

Son: No. I’d look stupid talking to her after class.

Mom: Why is that?

Son: What am I supposed to do, go up to her and say, “I don’t understand what you are teaching.”

Mom: Yeah, pretty much.

Son: Well, I’m not going to do that.

Mom: Who is the one responsible here, you or your teacher?

Son: Well, it’s the teacher’s responsibility to teach…

Mom: And…

Son: And it’s the responsibility…of the student to…learn. OK I get it. But I’m still not going to march up to her desk and say, “I don’t understand.” I’ll look like a stupid idiot.

Mom: Do you really think you are a stupid idiot?

Son: No, of course not. But announcing to the whole world that I don’t understand something makes me look like a stupid idiot.

Mom: Says who?

Son: I do.

Mom: So you are saying, in effect, that you are a stupid idiot.

Son: But I’m not.

Mom: Ah, now we are getting somewhere.

Son: What do you mean?

Mom: Do you agree that we all have the ability to say who we are in the world?

Son: Pretty much – I don’t have much to say in what I get to do at school though.

Mom: But that’s different. You may not get to say what you DO at school but you do get to say who you ARE at school.

Son: I don’t understand.

Mom: What kind of a student do you want to be?

Son: I dunno.

Mom: Do you want to be a slacker and fail at all your courses?

Son: No.

Mom: Good. Do you want to be at the top of your class?

Son: No, I don’t want to be that either. I don’t want to be a super-ultra brainy type. I just want to be a good student.

Mom: OK. I’m glad to hear you say that. So what would a good student do in a situation where he or she didn’t understand something?

Son: I’d go talk to the teacher.

Mom: Interesting.

Son: What?

Mom: Do you still think you hate learning?

Son: No.

Mom: Does school still look boring to you?

Son: Well no and yes. I get that I’m responsible for learning, the teacher for teaching and if I want to be a good student then a good student asks questions.

Mom: So…

Son: So what do I do if I start to get bored again?

Mom: What do you think?

Son: Ask a question?

Mom: That’s a great place to start.