No matter how many cities I visit, I will always love NYC the most. I can’t imagine ever feeling the same combined sense of awe and comfort any other place in the world.
From my earliest days exploring the city independently as a teenager, to last weekend, no other location inspires, contents and entertains me the way New York City does.
A few sights that caught my eye recently are below. Hope you like them.
My Spotify playlists lean heavily towards classic rock with a side of traditional jazz, mostly for Sunday mornings with the New York Times and an extra mug of coffee. Any new music I’ve been exposed to in the past 20 has come from either students (thanks, Dani and Skrabs!), my sons or, in more recent years, 97.7 WEXT. There’s some good stuff out there and I’m more than open to expanding my musical horizons any time.
I’ve seen a few shows this year that have been, what I consider to be, slightly under the mainstream radar. There were The Suffers at the Egg, The Marcus King Band in Cohoes and St. Paul and the Broken Bones in Asbury Park, each qualifying as not exactly well known, but extremely talented musical groups. Sunday night, I saw another one of these special performances, this time at the Palace.
What happens when you go to a concert, thinking you’re one of the cool kids hip to a great band, only to learn that the rest of the audience is your age or even older? Well, that was my experience this past weekend at the Lake Street Dive show at the Palace Theater. I went into this show assuming the crowd would be trendy and young and I couldn’t have been more wrong because most of the folks were my peers. You know, the well preserved middle aged type.
I can’t claim to be incredibly familiar with Lake Street Dive’s catalog, but I can tell you this – they were awesome and put on a killer show. The band, who have been playing together since meeting as students at the New England Conservatory of Music, plays music that spans multiple genres including Indie Rock, Neo Soul and Alt Jazz. The lead vocalist, Rachael Price has a truly phenomenal voice that she seems to effortlessly unleash, even from a sitting position necessitated by a booted broken foot. Bridget Kearny who slays on upright bass completely blew me away with the sounds she created – and her adorable hot pink booties. The remaining members of the band Mike Olson (on guitar/trumpet), Mike Calabrese (organ and drums) and new member, Akie Bermiss on keyboards.
After attending a huge two-day music fest a few weeks ago, this concert was a warm welcome back to the kind of show I enjoy – one that is local, low key and absolutely danceabley fun. If it hadn’t been a Sunday night, I would have hung out until the bitter end and maybe even waited at the stage door to thank the band for a terrific night out. As it was, I left before the final encore and joyfully hummed my way back to the car. You know me – I’ve always loved a dive.
Believe it or not, DelSo is nearly ten years old. It’s been a pretty interesting run for me. Writing and sharing my life with people who take in my words, without looking in my eyes, is a sometimes odd experience.
My original concept, an inspired idea without much planning (aka The Silvia Story), was a community blog with neighborhood things and local events. I had birthed the sometimes hated name, DelSo and, for some weird reason, it stuck. I’ll never stop smiling just thinking about “DelSo” appearing in some official city mailings and on Google Maps. Kids, you can make up your own language!
Anyway, my idea was to explore happy hours around town and write about it. Low key, kind of insider foodie stuff. Fun. You know, light.
My life changed and the blog changed. There was a lot of emotion and readers responded. I grew to accept that the stories I shared were, in fact, mine to tell and if my transparency revealed the shadows of others, it wasn’t my intention.
DelSo has been a consistent outlet for nearly a decade, something I never imagined. Since last spring I’ve also been publishing pieces on a new platform, CivMix. Some of the topics are similar to things I’ve written about right here, but they’ve been tweaked a little differently. Truthfully, I sometimes wrestle with where to publish what. It feels like some weirdo writer’s infidelity thing. Whatever.
Here are some recent posts I’ve written over at CivMix. Hope you enjoy them – S
http://civmix.com/2019/09/the-school-year-…chers-confession/
http://civmix.com/2019/09/the-waterboys-ca…-theater-9-19-19/
Or, The Story of the 35th Anniversary of My 18th Birthday, Jersey Shore Style
I sought this photo out for a post over at CivMix and every time I look at it, I can’t help but smile. What in the world gave that high school dropout with zero prospects the nerve to look over her shoulder with such an assured gaze?
For the life of me, I can’t remember feeling half as confident as I appear in that photo. I was in love. I know that. M1 was making me smile and I was happy, not knowing where I was going, but glad to be exactly where I was.
I’m fairly certain that picture was taken in the summer of 1984. I know it was on the boardwalk at Seaside Heights. My hair was permed and glazed. I believe the shade was called “fuchsia plum” and my hair looked wild under the bright lights.
That was the last time I was on the beaches of New Jersey, until last weekend. Thirty-five years later, I was finally back on the beaches of “the Shore,” which was what we called the New Jersey coast where I grew up.
On this recent trip I felt more so much established, certain of my value. I knew I was a catch for far more than a coquettish glance. The swagger in my step currently comes from the knowledge that I am, without a doubt, capable, independent and resilient. My gaze is direct instead of coy and, while my hair may be fading into silver, I feel more confident in myself than ever before.
I look back at that photo and can’t help but consider all of the decisions I’ve made between then and now. Some good, others not so great. I’m so happy to know that I wouldn’t alter a single one of those choices because, if I did, I wouldn’t be where I am right now and it’s a damn good place.
Sunday, the day after my 53rd birthday, I laid on the beach soaking in the rays of the sun. I wore a two piece bathing suit, something I wouldn’t have done when I was 18 because I would have been concerned with how I looked to others.
On this particular day, though, I realized I didn’t really care how I looked in a bikini, because it was all about how the sun felt on my skin. And it felt great.
I’ve had a really busy month. There was a wedding in Buffalo, a weekend wine fest in Rhinebeck and two Albany events last Saturday. I’m not complaining about the state of my social/work calendar at all, but I do feel as though Jeter has been a little neglected recently and I can’t coast on his Wellfleet week forever. So, Sunday afternoon he and I took a drive out to Altamont to the Bozen Kill Preserve for a little quality time together.
How I came to select this particular spot is kind of funny. I knew I wanted to get him outdoors for a hike, but was unwilling to drive any real distance. As I was considering where I might take him, my Facebook feed offered up a recent CivMix post and the first option struck all the right notes – not too far, welcoming to dogs and with the added bonus of clean water for my boy to take a dip. After Waze-ing the drive, we were off.
The ride was pleasant with hints of fall’s shades of orange and red just starting to make a splash in the foliage. I don’t drive out that way very often and am uncertain what surprised me more – how very crowded Indian Ladder Farms is or the fact that someone thought it was a good idea to increase the speed limit to 55 mph just before this way-too-popular place is visible. Someone really should re-examine that decision.
After another few minutes and a series of turns we were past any apple picking crowds and parked in a small lot that contained only one other vehicle. We was in the country! Leashed and ready, Jeter bounded out of the wagon and I signed us in at the nearby trailhead and off we went, following the white trail across the field and into the woods.
Our path was well marked with the occasional mild incline. Once we were about 10 minutes up the trail, the sound of cars faded and we were alone with only the birds and the occasional tiny toad for company. As far as humans, we only encountered one family on our walk. giving me the sense that I had traveled far further than a mere 15 miles.
Eventually we found our way to a gentle stream, aka Kill, which Jeter happily stepped into for what may have been his last swim of the year. As promised, the water was pristine.
Filed under beauty, Exercise, family, Hiking, ideas, Local, Recommendations, road trips, sunday, upstate New York
As of mid morning on Monday my hair still smelled like woodsmoke from Saturday night’s bonfire on Herring Cove beach. I washed it later in the day, but delaying the shampooing allowed the odor to linger in a lame attempt to cling to the week I had just spent at the Cape. It ended too soon.
After my adventures in Greece earlier this summer, I came to the realization that 2 weeks in Greece was essentially the same cost as the house I rent in Wellfleet. Hmmm. That was striking. Maybe it was time to let go of of this twenty year tradition for the sake of experiencing new destinations…
But, the magic of the Cape seems to get me every time, even when getting there is a clusterf*ck of traffic. Morning walks to the ocean, swimming with my dog in a pond that feels like our own and enjoying friends and low key entertaining…I just don’t know how to let it go.
Difficulty letting go has been a theme for me, it seems. This annual vacation, my Volvo wagon, lovers, specific articles of clothing…I hang on to things that have personal meaning that is sometimes irrational and beyond physical properties. I suspect it comes from unresolved childhood issues and a general lack of stability growing up. I mean, by the time I was in 6th grade I had attended three different school districts (and 5 separate buildings) and moved at least 8 times, which certainly didn’t lend much in terms of consistency to my life.
Perhaps all of that upheaval created a need for some constants in my life, beyond my brother and oldest of friends, and the annual trip to the Cape has simply grown into an event that is beyond a mere beach vacation. It’s a touchstone of my summer.
As I drove east and then south to Wellfleet, I did so with the mindset that this was it, end of an era, and I felt okay about it. Seven days later I knew that somehow I would find a way to continue this tradition, even with an anticipated return to Greece and a trip with my youngest son to Spain. At least for the next year. It’s just too important to my emotional and mental health, and my dog, to abandon.
What do you struggle to let go of?
This summer is flying by, don’t you think? I can’t believe it’s been almost three weeks since I got back from Greece. It some ways it feels like forever ago that we were there, however, I’m still successfully mentally resurrecting the sense of pleasure I felt being there just by closing my eyes. That country definitely is staying with me.
I’ve been to a fair number of European countries over the years, but there’s something about Greece that really rang a bell for me. It was effortlessly beautiful with blue skies, bright perennial flowers and white washed buildings. The hills were arid and reminded me of the mountain in Palm Springs, another favorite place for me. The ocean was everywhere. My eyes simply never grew tired of the sights before them.
The Greek people are wonderful, gracious with their use of English and seemingly always interested in providing hospitality that goes a little beyond the expectation. After nearly every Taverna dinner we were provided with some small treat – a scoop of ice cream, a shot glass of a local liqueur or hunks of watermelon. After a life changing* bowl of chick peas that had been slow cooked in a bath of olive oil, onions and salt, I was given a bowl of watermelon tasting ever so slightly of the garlic cut with the same knife. My satisfaction with the meal could not have been greater.
Returning to a particular island has occupied my thoughts since I got back home – Paros, the last of the three islands we visited. The reasons for the fondness I have for this place are purely emotional. I felt very comfortable there. The island isn’t too big, the towns are picturesque without being fussy and the food and drink both stellar. There were also two things that occurred that gave me a sign from the universe that I was in a good place, the right place even.
The first was when son and I travelled to a different town on the island, Naoussa, which was to the north of Parikia where we were staying. It was late morning when we arrived on the bus and walked through the village on our way to finding a beach. Imagine my surprise to hear someone seated at a sidewalk cafe calling my name. It was a group with whom we had enjoyed the previous evening’s Farm to Table feast down island and now here they were! How random is that?!
The second affirmation came on the bus. I had purchased tickets for my son and I for a particular destination from which we would take a hike. He decided prior to departure that he didn’t care to go, so I went solo. As the bus driver’s helper came down the aisle to collect tickets, it turned out the beauty rich, but euro poor, young woman seated behind me did not have the necessary fare for her ride. I was able to offer her my extra ticket which turned out to be exactly what she needed. The smiles exchanged between she, the bus employee and myself could have lit up a room. It was a simple, happy moment.
I’m going to figure out how to get to Paros again and create some more of those. We all need simple, happy moments, right?
*Only slightly hyperbolic
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