Walking North on 9th Avenue, a first, I found myself silently singing lyrics from my childhood Sunday school; “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight; Jesus loves the little children of the world.”
The Upper West Side, lying between Central Park and the Hudson River, buzzed with cultures of the world. It was like walking in Venice, Barcelona, Athens, and London at the same time. I felt comfortable with an unexpected humility.
I saw kids in school playgrounds and many women shopping with small ones in tow. There seemed to be a buddy system among women pushing strollers because there were often two women talking and laughing as they hurried through the streets with babies or toddlers snuggled under the sun canopies. I sensed many were caregivers and not parents.
In the evening I joined a Write-In group at Gotham Writers on 8th and 38th, a first. Eleven people sat at tables arranged in a square, and the instructor gave a prompt. We wrote for fifteen minutes and then read what we wrote.
The first prompt was, “Without a doubt.” My first line read, “Without a doubt I’m weird.” My last line was, “Hallelujah!” During comments, someone said, “I liked how you owned it.”
The instructor forgot to tell us our writing was suppose to be fiction. Oops.
After that, we had a break with a spread of snacks and wine. My kind of class. I visited with a woman who looked like Shirley MacLaine. She has lived in the city for forty years, and just finished a degree in Occupational Therapy. Impressive.
After the break, the process repeated.
The next prompt was, “Mull,” meaning, to think about something. I wrote about one of my favorite rural women, Lois. She was a Muller, and much more.
On Saturday, I went to the Metropolitan Opera House to see Aida. A first. I transformed into Alice in Wonderland. Passing through the front doors was exhilarating, the building was breathtakingly stunning. The beautiful people all showed up, and Champagne at the first intermission was elegant and gave me a chance to check out the balconies.
But, the opera was long and tedious. The Egyptian stage sets were incredible, some of the best I’ve ever seen, but I didn’t understand one word in the Italian songs, and with four acts, I had an impossible time staying awake.
I would do it again. I loved the experience, even if the story was obscure.
Two Months of Firsts – #2
Written on November 19, 2016
I felt the same way at the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow. A Beautiful Building, georgous sets, but the night we went was an opera, several hours of singing in Russian and I was ready for it to be over. I could not follow the story at all! But still an experience to be remembered.
Geri, my thoughts exactly! Well said. An experience of extremes…glorious/tedious. It seemed everyone else was enthralled. Not a sound or movement (except from me – trying to stay awake) in the place. Funny:)
Excellent Jennifer. I feel as if you’re taking me with you and I’m almost enjoying it as much as you are. Thank you! Have a great Sunday and anxious to hear more. Oh, and Aida, I ‘m sure I’d have the same problem as you. The music was most likely remarkable but if you can’t understand one word that’s being said it’s lost!
Oh, good…I like that you feel you are here too:)
I read this one out of order. Don’t know how I missed it. Hope you weren’t lonely without me! LOL
Teena – you a blast to hang out with. We should have done this years ago! Hey, thanks for the follow:)
Sure sounds like a great day!