The rich and the needy

I was brought up to believe that I don't belong to the upper crust; I still don't , will never belong and I'm not sure if I want to. But in certain instances, being in the right circles is not a crime even if it means taking on a non-glamorous job in order to be in.

Call it servitude to golf, silly, sheer benevolence, here I was on a marathon to help my charity again - the Long Island Museum of American Art, History and Carriages. In my attempt to help my golf-crazed friends to gain access to the Hamlet Golf and Country Club and hopefully be given playing privileges for free (You wish!), thus making their retirement income last a lifetime, I signed up giving a few gratuitous hours for a good cause. Pardon me for my partly altruistic reason, but it comes with the package, true friendship and volunteerism.

The Hamlet surely is a place for golfers who have plenty of money to burn. It is an enclave of gated-entrance luxury town homes, large enough you might as well call them mansions. This charity tournament was opened for individual sponsorship at $500 a shot at the greens as the cheapest.

The level of wealth I couldn't gauge, I'm just a mere volunteer here appreciating the landscape and the course design while sitting at the 17th hole for that awaited hole-in-one. The prize is a year of free lease on a Mercedes Benz which nobody won. I figured today's players may be the select and privileged group but not necessarily the good golfers. Judy and Maria cringed as we watched one guy 7-putt it painfully and embarrassingly. One man literally got a nice bounce on his ball as it hit the concrete cart path and we barely escaped being knocked down as we took cover inside the cart we parked under the oak trees.

At least this time the assignment was easy; there was no Josh to check if I'm up to speed on the job. Breakfast at the clubhouse, lunch served on the course and our own club cart, but hell if I'm going to drive that and risk tipping over and getting drowned in the water hole. I rode with Maria Andretti but I almost jumped off the cart as she got us on an almost 45-degree incline. I heard Judy once "jumped overboard" while she herself was driving the cart, Maria as passenger and poor Maria had to grab the wheel to save her own life. And I thought Judy was fearless.

Golfers think they know all about golf! But there's more to golf than how far you hit the ball. There are actually a few things I look for in a course, as if you care; something along the lines of what the surroundings has to offer, such as oaks, cypress, magnolias, dogwoods and not doglegs, flowers, rabbits, deer, restroom and a decent clubhouse restaurant. I love my camera and if there's any reason that I'm kicked out of here, it is because I got too close to the gorgeous private homes that are partly hidden by a row of hedges.

This is not the designated forward tee for ladies .. it's a red mushroom. Red!

Shotgun start was at 11:30 am which gave us plenty of time to enjoy the nice spread at the Clubhouse dining room. When you're used to having just coffee and toast for breakfast, a massive blanket of food and never before seen fruits such as the yellow raspberries is an exotic experience. Bananas are yellow, not raspberries.

It is luxury and extravagance probably equal in form to the Kentucky Derby. A master cigar roller from the Dominican Republic is ready on hand to deliver a freshly rolled one or boast a demo for the players before they drive off to the grounds. Life in contrast, my respectable wardrobe consisted of my gardening khaki pants and sneakers which are still muddy from a wet day at the US Open.

Once you get past all the wealth, bells and whistles, everything else is equal. I think. But, no. Let me rephrase that. Women play better golf than men from what I've witnessed today.

Now if men could only realize that golfing isn't as easy as writing a fat check.

I had fun. You may keep me out of the Country Club after this, but please let my two golf-addicted friends play - even just nine holes!

"Sink it" or swim

Some have actually called it “Deathpage”, the Black course at Bethpage being one of the most intimidating golf courses in the world. As rain continues to pound the course the great players at the US Open might as well use a sailboat to get from one hole to the other.

At the crack of dawn we drove to Farmingdale College Lot E for our 6 am charity assignment at the 18th hole concessions tent. It was relatively dry when we started out but could I trust those meteorologists predicting it “could be better today than yesterday”? And you mean what? We’ve seen a deluge of water for who knows how long that all sorts of fungi already make up the fauna (or is it flora) of our region. Toadstools sure look like plants to me or umbrellas?

It was early enough when we got to the College where we parked and hopped on the shuttle to Bethpage. Flaunting our volunteer credentials (one could easily drop $100 a piece for a ticket) we sailed through the gate without any hassle. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Water must’ve pelted the area, but now the place stunk of manure as we walked on hay over mud; galoshes would’ve been in order. Did I mention that I left my polka-dotted rubber boots at home? Good place for it huh?

After a few guesses and detours, we found the tent; actually we heard Judy’s voice coming from behind one of the closed tents. Aha! There they were, four early birds ready to get to work. We got inside to meet Josh the banquet manager and what I saw was enough to inspire a full blown anxiety attack. A mess. Get me a paper bag now quick!

After a few intros, sign-in and brief orientation we donned our aprons over our khaki and white uniforms and started hard labor. Cashier? Runner? Condiments? Griller? Dog and bun assembly? Beer pourer? I chose to be a runner, but little did I know I would be needing roller skates. Josh saw the potential in me and in this mad, mad world of multitasking, he added the condiments stand to the task list. Okay, I’m not getting a performance evaluation after this am I? Good, so you 're getting what you got.

About 7 am the tent drapes were drawn and tada! With a sold-out event, we should expect a huge crowd. Coffee? No, we’re not serving that here, so I had to quickly learn how to give directions to the (Holy) Grill where they sell everything. Hot dogs? Too early. But hey, eat healthy, so why not have a banana or an apple? And that worked - by noontime we’re all out of bananas. My small contribution to health care.

Poor Carol and Dorothy were thrown to the dogs. Nathan’s best but can you wrap 500 in five minutes? Fast paced assembly line wasn’t fast enough for Josh I had to lend a hand. Boy did I learn some wrapping techniques quickly. Sheila's and Maria’s fingers were flying on the registers and Judy kept busy as runner behind them.

Josh would gently remind me of the condiments. I’m on top of it, man. They don’t call me QC (Queen of Condiments) for nothing. Between sweeping the water off the platform and robotically restocking the brownies, cool drinks, fruits and the infamous condiments (jars or gallons of ketchup and mustard), I timed my breaks such that I was able to watch Tiger and Phil, separately of course, finish off at the 18th hole. That was the highlight of my 8-hour duty.

I was smitten by Phil, the sentimental favorite. What a nice guy. Two feet away from me walking towards the clubhouse, he promised to sign autographs after he’s done with his scorecard. It must be hard for him as he endures the pain of watching Amy battle breast cancer.

The big cheers came around 11 am, beer is served! The long line kept the young and pretty Casey busy, what with all the wise guys trying to get her number. She drew a beer crowd and PROM Caterers made a killing at $6.00 a glass. Her father Brian couldn’t hide the foam around his mouth and as a volunteer he’s not even supposed to drink beer. What about the 3 hot dogs he easily gobbled down at breakfast? At the steep prices of eats and the rate he's going, there won't be any money left for our charity. He must've easily chowed down $80 worth of below par food; so, Long Beach Reach you can kiss your share goodbye. He pigged out and it's not even angus beef!

Noontime and Tiger just finished the second round, so the lunch orders started pouring in and the pace and chaos was no longer beer and skittles. Boy, Americans eat a lot of dogs and consume plenty of mustard. Don't forget the onions! No kisses from me, whew!

Free at last at 2 pm - the end of slavery. With all my toes complaining we shuffled to the 18th hole grandstand in the rain. Were there a lot of fair-weather fans behind me! As Furyk said, " NY fans are opinionated and their support is earned, not guaranteed". They're not too kind with folks opening their umbrellas either; was I entertained.

Finally, the end of the day, we couldn't ignore the merchandise tent. All the black logo balls were gone, that's all I can afford to buy here. Judy and Maria got a sleeve of the white ones. Maria bought a canvas three-legged portable chair. We lost Dorothy in the crowd and with no cell phones there was no use hanging around to wait. Maria and I took the shuttle and drove back home in the rain. The beginning of the third round was cancelled, we left with the course practically submerged in a sea of mud; foolish women wearing flip-flops were slipping and sliding or busy cleaning their toes!

What a washout, soggy grounds unfit for man or even the frogs. Wasn't it enough that the Black course lived up to its reputation of being tough that Mother Nature had to add to that?

Oh yes, Dorothy. They found her alright!

What about my toes, are they still there? I can't feel them anymore.

The Lake House

“Or is it just my imagination runnin’ away with me?”, so goes the song.
Really, if only I own this house.

The weekend was beyond my wildest dreams. An invitation from our friend Sheila which I almost declined turned out to be a delightful mini-vacation I could only imagine.

It’s a lakeside house at the very tip of the island at the end of a private road in a hamlet in Candlewood Lake, Connecticut. Picture windows, glass patio doors that open into wooden decks offer a full view of the lake from all sides. Woods and lush vegetation and the lake surround this gorgeous vacation house. Steps lead down from the patio to another deck way down below right next to the lake. My dream house, but it is not quite built for my wondrous agility or lack thereof.

Sheila was waiting, coffee on the stove and a warm welcome. After a quick tour of the house followed by wine and cheese at one of the porches with a magnificent view of the hills and lake, we sat and talked, I busy catching some snapshots of boats, kayaks, and wave runners cruising up and down the lake. The conversation that ensued covered just about anything. The stories of their adventures aboard the schooner Windjammer were just so fascinating. Meanwhile Sister Therese’s ears must’ve been burning; it was a riot and I think Sheila was just too funny.

Lunch was hot dogs and burgers with Judy minding the grill. Carol prepared a healthy looking and great tasting salad of greens some of them harvested from her garden. For Judy and Maria, lunch couldn’t have ended sooner.

Eager to go kayaking, Maria and Judy headed down the beach channel area, then the rest of us followed suit and relaxed as the two explored the lake.

So I can’t swim, but did I have to wear a pfd on dry land? These ladies just won’t quit; Carol asked me to get into the kayak but hey, I’m not going to take a crack at learning how to swim or kayak now.

Dorothy immersed herself into her House Beautiful magazines fishing for ideas on decorating her new home. Nobody seemed to have the time to help her pick colors and designs but she didn't mind after all we're here just to have fun, not to review color charts and swatches. That's way too cerebral.

Carol decided to skip any of the water activities and left all that to the live wires Maria & Judy. She must’ve been reading up on the rules of the game we didn’t know we will be forced to play after dinner that night – Mexican Train Dominoes. That was a nightmare – the rules kept changing as we played on, blame it on Dorothy's expertise.

Or maybe Carol was trying hard to finish her book, the beauty of which there was no due date on the report. She must’ve read less than 10 pages of it. I was always sneaking up behind her, crouching on the ground, snapping shots of the weirdest stuff, such as the oversized mushroom and the perfectly shaped maple leaf.

And how many people does it take to haul up a single kayak? Four sailors, one of them with a bum shoulder, and three who can’t decide which direction to pull. Where is Judy?

Judy was the grill master again that evening. Dorothy made her artichokes dish, Maria watched while it cooked and everyone did the rest of the chores because like a concert pianist I'm saving my precious fingers for more of the same - lousy snapshots.

If there's anything I learned, it's to stay away from arguments in the kitchen, what with all the sharp knives around and the No, No, No's from all five housemates for the weekend. Imagine more of the same - No, No, No during our game of dominoes and why did Dorothy have to pick the Mexican train? Nobody really knew how to play it. I was accused of not knowing what a double is, Maria not knowing how to count, oh it was a mess. I don't blame Sheila for dozing off in the middle of it, she must've hidden some of her tiles just to the end the game. Hohum...

Sunday morning it is, and as usual Carol and I were admiring the scenery and there it was a low-flying plane hovering over the lake. Quick and shoot, but in a second it was gone. Sheila said it's one of the neighbors going off on a Cessna to pick up his morning coffee and the Sunday paper from the small island on the other end of the lake.

Huh? Pinch me, am I still dreaming?

What a rare treat, thank you Sheila for inviting us. Next time we promise not to make a big mess in the kitchen. And I'll stay away from the kids' playroom.

We concluded the weekend by attending church services on Sunday on our way back to New York and that included Judy. She called it the Church of St. Edward the Professor.

No, No, No, it is the Confessor. But then again what does she know, she is a Protestant.

One thing I know I will be dreaming about Billy's house for a long time.

Road to harmony - Ma's Silk

If I could be in three places at one time, this would have been one of them – the Silk Road Ensemble concert at Damrosch Park last night. Let’s just say yesterday was one of those days when the spirit was willing but my body was weak. Another event which I missed was the Museum Mile Festival of free museum visits, where nine museums were opened to the public for three hours in the evening. Luckily, the Silk Road concert was broadcast live on PBS and surprisingly I was also able to stay up to watch it till finish.

The acclaimed cellist Yo-Yo Ma led the Silk Road Ensemble to a journey through different countries by way of their music. I’ve always been a big fan of Yo-Yo Ma and his work, but this truly inspiring group tops it all. The Silk Road Project is composed of about 60 musicians, artists and composers collaborating and making music using instruments indigenous to their native countries.

Last night was a demonstration of a harmony of cultures, performers from the East and West, China, India, Azerbaijan, Argentina, Galicia and many parts of the world, spoke the language of music. Instruments like the pipa lute from China and the Indian tabla, percussion sounds like no other sound you've heard before wowed the audience. The Persian fiddle kamanchech and the tabla are the most fascinating of all.

The charming and very talented Yo-Yo Ma comes from a family of musicians, his father was a professor of music and his mother a singer. His eldest sister Dr. Yeou-Cheng Ma is an accomplished violinist and married to Michael Dadap a renowned Filipino classical guitarist.

What is remarkable about Yo-Yo Ma and his family is that they help encourage young kids to cultivate their talents and discover the joy of music by performing, teaching and conducting workshops. Michael and Yeou-Cheng are actively involved with the Children's Orchestral Society, he as the artistic/music director and conductor and Dr. Ma as the Executive Director. Yo-Yo Ma is also committed to educational programs that connect children to music and ultimately opening the rest of the world to children.

This extraordinary cellist reaches out to young and older audiences, touring and giving master classes worldwide. What an unselfish way to share his gift and pave the road to harmony and cultural awareness through the language of music. His Silk Road Project is more than just the workings of neighborhood musicians but a brotherhood of artists and a cultural project of nations.

Music conquers all and no translation required.

Dance: radical and avant-garde

Diversion of Angels

To celebrate the centennial of the Queensboro bridge, Queens and Manhattan have “bridged the arts” by presenting the works from the Graham II of the prestigious Martha Graham Dance Company on the east side of the City and Michiyo Tanaka the artistic choreographer of Mad About Dance a multi-ethnic dance company from the other side of the bridge in Queens.

I know very little about dance in general but I got a little bit of both of what I was hoping for - sassy and dramatic both uniting classical and contemporary. It was a marvelous program. I always wanted to see Graham’s company and now I’m thrilled to have finally gotten the chance.

My picks as the best out of 7 programs were Diversion of Angels, Keramos and Steps in the Street. Diversion of Angels was described by Graham as three aspects of love : white in perfect balance, red as erotic and yellow as adolescent. It follows no story.

Keramos

Keramos (the Greek word for "clay") by Tanaka is an elaborate multi-media work that featured dancers joined by a live ceramicist creating a piece onstage, musicians playing on clay chimes and drums, and film. The effect was spectacular – a combination of dancing bodies and projected moving images. The live ceramicist at work provided the dynamic image as part of the story telling and symbolism:

So I went down to the potter’s house
and there he was working on his wheel.
And the vessel he was making of clay
was spoiled in the potter’s hand
and he reworked it into another vessel,
as it seemed good to the potter to do.
(Jeremiah 18:1-6)

Michiyo Tanaka, a dancer, choreographer and ceramicist herself, brought together Western concepts and traditional Japanese ideas and made use of video imagery to narrate the story.

"Steps in the Street" is extracted from an anti-war piece from Martha Graham's ballet Chronicle (1936), the same year that she declined Hitler's invitation to perform at the festival held concurrent with the Olympic Games in Berlin. Thirteen women, dressed in Graham’s classic long-sleeved black dresses, entered the stage one at a time, walking backwards, one elbow protruding out in front of the chest, one hand in front of the belly in a protective gesture. It is simple but striking. Striding, jumping, throwing their legs high in the air - is most thrilling.

An all-female cast which dates back when Graham only had women dancers in her company; this is an expression of her political views portraying the devastation that war can leave. A far cry from the fairy-tale settings of classical ballet, it shows the harsh reality of tragedies in the modern world.

Another stellar dance performance. A political and social message sent through a dance ritual. Simple black dresses unmistakably Martha Graham. The innovative creations by Michiyo Tanaka will certainly make her one of the celebrated choreographers of her time. Exceptional, simple presentation but complex movements, her work is a masterpiece.

After watching these, I will never look at contemporary dance the same way again. We who can't dance, are not athletic and technically strong can only admire the works of both women. So we did just that.

Gift horses? Bring them on, Shu-shia

Philip and I are a stickler for details and share what shrinks refer to as a disorder of obsessive organization; quirky sometimes but understandably beneficial if you knew what we inherited from the previous management and board. A messy and archaic system or lack thereof is an understatement. And if there's one thing I hate, it's working without the proper tools.

And so here we were on Saturday, we spent some money towards some much needed office supplies, binding equipment for presentation packets to be exact. He drove me to Staples and like a little girl let loose in a toy store I filled up our cart. He paid for all the purchases hoping to get reimbursed without loose canon Lissa, another board member, squawking about the expense. Good luck with that.

As we walked down his courtyard when we got home, his girlfriend Shu-shia (Susan), head sticking out the second floor kitchen window (she was busy violating house rules by feeding the birds) waved at us and urged me to come up and have coffee to which I gladly obliged. We sat and enjoyed the coffee at the table which in Philip's words “is cluttered with Susan’s stuff”.

Little did I know that Philip was dying to get rid of all her pile of stuff and I felt he was egging her to donate or dump them elsewhere. And yes she did, she offered them to me, one by one. She called it a goldfish plant and if you look closely at the flower, its pouch-like petals with a small opening resemble the little goldfish complete with eyes. Now I have another plant to study and care for. Like I need to.

Bubbly and personable, Susan is so full of life and nice to talk to. It's as if she doesn't have any bad moments. How enviable. I discovered some of her hidden talents – she showed me some photos she snapped and I was impressed with some of the artistic compositions.

Shown below is her business card – the photo is that of clouds (on the left side) in the shape of Buddha as shot gazing from outside the fence of a sewage treatment plant. Did she camp out there just to take this, I wonder? Hmmmm. She also fished out of her bag some pictures she had taken like the white bleeding heart flowers (Dutchman’s breeches) and her favorite white roses, a symbol of honor she said. Those I acquired too.


Chinese paper folding (origami in Japanese), she termed it something like zhe zhi, is one of her many hobbies. Sitting inside a plastic food container in the shape of a globe were paper-folded horses glued to a shocking pink colored post-it note. That too was handed to me, but only the horses. Thank goodness for little favors, I could do without the plastic bowl. Bring them on, Susan.

A bagful of loot and still not satisfied. Philip has a collection of woodworking implements, a pair of beautiful Chinese antique lamps which could be ivory or jade, an original edition of Gangs of New York recently bought for $10 at Amazon, a set of cherry custom-made bookshelves. Those I'm dying to have, but none were offered. Aw shucks!

Such gracious hospitality can only come from someone like Shu-shia. She always has a bag of treats from her bakery, for me and my mom. Philip, you're a lucky man so please don't sweat the small stuff and I promise not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Free for all

Asking New Yorkers to slow down, behave or quit bitching is a tall order. As the Mayor’s idea of congestion pricing got voted down, came another unpopular one. With hopes of improving car and pedestrian traffic in Times Square, Broadway from 42nd to 47th streets was shutdown to thru traffic but whether this is temporary or not, is anybody’s guess. Thinking how NY cabbies have total disregard for humans - always seem ready to play pedestrian polo, and with tourists piling up wall to wall in the already congested sidewalks of Broadway, this isn’t a bad idea. And here’s the bitching moment…
Not bad...... except for the green, gaudy, cheap lawn chairs!

Car-free but it looks like people from all over the world have inhabited the streets and plan to stay! I’m not sure this is a dipstick of greater safety and access for pedestrians. Those lounge chairs can be inviting – not only for the tired tourists, but also the lazy workers who could end up taking naps on their extended lunch hour and vagrants too and possibly thugs! It's a free for all.

I was struck by the ease at which we crossed the streets to get to The Town Hall from the subway station. After our museum trip in the morning, Judy said I have to see this one. I didn’t expect to see beach chairs - and green too? I wonder if Starbuck’s had anything to do with this. It’s not my idea of a Going Green Street Fair, not my favorite shade of green anyway.

But, let’s see what happens. At least now, tourists, myself included, are able to crane their necks, and take their time taking snapshots in the middle of Times Square without getting hit by that looney NYC driver, the yellow cab with a maniac behind the wheels or the "hornless" pedicab!

It was a whole day affair, Judy tires me out. God, she’s got endurance. The only thing she hasn’t done is bungee-jump, I swear. I shouldn’t say a word, she stood in line for at least an hour to get us the free tickets. Thanks a lot for that.

Our destination : The Town Hall, for a piano concert that is part of the summer program Free For All. Years ago, this place used to be the meeting ground for people wanting to be educated on important issues of the day and now is a venue for musical and other performances not just for budding artists but also the renowned ones. Andre Watts and Garrison Keillor are among the many on the list.

We both had burgers at one of the best in town Heartland Brewery and Bar. No, 'not there for the bar, I don't drink. Judy suggested buffalo burgers, but nah.. I’ll pass. The buffalos I know from my childhood were the ones used for plowing the rice fields and hauling firewood from the forests. Could they be the same ones you now are suggesting for me to eat –wouldn’t that be tough and gamey? She said no, but I just ignored her.

Anne-Marie McDermott at the piano with predominantly Haydn sonata pieces was the program. Very talented and playing unquestionably difficult compositions, she happens to be the least of my favorites having seen her perform once before. Her body movements were too showy and distracting for me. I should’ve just watched the concert with my eyes closed, then maybe I would’ve better appreciated the sounds she made. Her selections were eclectic and I’m not sure I’m ready to embrace that either, but who am I to comment, I’m not a pro.

Beggars can't be choosy, the concert is free and I can never play the way she does so I better just shut up. Sorry Anne-Marie. As for the car-free Broadway, "Let's give green space a chance".

Going Dutch

400 years ago the sign would have read: Welcome to Manahatta, Nieuw-Amsterdam. That was in April 1609 when Henry Hudson sailed up the river that today bears his name, into a little island locally called Manahatta or "Island of Many Hills" by its inhabitants the Manahates and Wiechquaseck Indians.

In observation of the 400th anniversary of the Hudson exploration of New York City, the Museum of the City of New York has opened two exhibitions, one (Manahatta/Manhattan) that reconstructs the natural history of Manhattan, as it existed before Hudson arrived and another (Amsterdam/New Amsterdam The Worlds of Henry Hudson) which captures the voyage and the colonization of the city.

The Dutch influence is apparent with many of the City's place names like Broadway from the Dutch Brede weg, Brooklyn from Breukelen, Harlem from Haarlem, Flushing from Vlissing or Staten Island from Staten Eylandt. Wall Street was a wall built by the Dutch across the north side of Manhattan in 1600 to keep the English out, hence the name.

Two years ago while walking the streets of Amsterdam I felt very much at home seeing canal houses with outside stoops and railings, and the interior graced with spiral-shaped balustrades. The stoops derived from the Dutch "stoeps" which means veranda and the handsomely crafted railings, prominent and an iconic feature of many New York City townhomes found in the West Village, East Harlem and Brooklyn Heights reflect the Dutch heritage.

Below is the staircase leading to the second floor one-man show of paintings by Andrew Berrien Jones entitled Stoops of Manhattan: Railings and Shadows, in keeping with the current theme of the exhibition at the museum.

Ironwork artisty as painted by Jones

Unrelated but part of the permanent collection of the Museum are the Doll Houses and the Toy Gallery. Toys small and large give a little history of childhood. It's a story in itself of toys dating back to 1769, doll houses complete with furnishings and all manufactured in the city. The Stettheimer Doll House of the 1920's has a miniature art gallery of original paintings and sculptures of the artists of that period.

The Museum of the City of New York, with it's small but rich collection is not overwhelming. Located on 103rd and Fifth Avenue in East Harlem and overlooking the Conservatory Garden of Central Park, it is a peaceful retreat for anyone wanting a piece of history or a trip back to childhood days.