Skip to main content

A week of celebrations

 Sunday, our cousin and her beloved organized a socially distant engagement party in Central Park. It was the first time since February that we and our children were all together in real life and not just onscreen. I didn't take photos of our family, my cousin and her beloved, her older siblings with their families (including our newborn cousin), and our kids because I was too busy enjoying our time together to take photos. I apologize to the bride's parents for not taking photos because I was just having too much fun.


My youngest and I had to leave the celebration early. He has a weekly meeting with friends and I was tying tzitzit with Max and his family via Zoom.  We walked home because I am still not doing public transit.


This building seems to have been renovated recently. I am not sure if it was painted or if the decorative elements were re-cast and restored. I don't remember it looking quite so crisp and beautiful in the past. 


 Clearly, the old fire escapes have been replaced with jazzy looking Bauhaus ones. 






The restoration made a completely forgettable building something worth noting.

Brownstone is soft. The acid in pollution tends to wear away at all of the crisp and lovely details. Lately, I have been seeing lots of the previously melted away details on old brownstones beautifully recast and reapplied to house fronts. 


Below you see both restored decorative elements as well as the eroded version just to the left.



 Old decorative ironwork often rusts away if not properly maintained. In the great golden age of building on the Upper West Side, each building had its own custom ironwork that was created to add a bit of extra to a building.


This corner building had all of the elements of the ironwork preserved, here as a balustrade around a set of cellar stairs.



Here on a service door.



The motif is here on a basement window as well. 


As we walked we passed my brother-in-law's old home. 




In the late 1970s, a Barnard student was killed by a chunk of falling facade from a building along Broadway.  As a result of that tragedy, every building facade is inspected and repaired every few years. Scaffolding is put up and every inch of every building is inspected and then repaired. 

The repeating patterns of the metalwork are not exactly beautiful but are always interesting.






While the pandemic has made most things worse, it is because of the pandemic that I was virtually able to attend the wedding of my friend's son in Israel.


 

I loved seeing the beautiful relationship she has with her son.

I also loved seeing her parents, who I haven't seen since about 1973.




Hoping for more good things, more celebrations.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

  וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים   You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for  giving life to all.  I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of  Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or  the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee.  If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it.    My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid.  I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed.   A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee  and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

Revisiting a beloved piece

About thirty years ago I was asked to make an atara to be a gift  for Jerry.  Jerry was one of the founders of an alternative Hebrew school in our neighborhood. Jerry was also one of the people who forged an alliance between the older mostly German members of our synagogue and the young counter culture former ( and still hippies) that were the new lifeblood of our congregation nearly fifty years ago. At that point, it wasn't the easiest marriage between the old guard and the new guard but Jerry helped to break down the barriers between the suit wearing older folks and the ripped up jeans wearing younger folks. Jerry has prepared thousands of kids for their B'nai Mitzvah. He is a frequent and excellent Torah reader and for many years he organized Morning Minyan. Jerry had often said that his favorite biblical text is the following: (יא) כִּ֚י הַמִּצְוָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את אֲשֶׁ֛ר אָנֹכִ֥י מְצַוְּךָ֖ הַיּ֑וֹם לֹֽא־נִפְלֵ֥את הִוא֙ מִמְּךָ֔ וְלֹ֥א רְחֹקָ֖ה הִֽוא׃ (יב) לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑...