Conspiracy theory

I’m sure of it. This could not be a coincidence. Both the internet (notice the small “i” under the new Wireless guidelines of not capitalizing either the internet or the web) and the cable TV suffered a mechanical failure the night of the debate. In the swing-state of Wisconsin no less. Tell me that you believe it to be unintentional, that the CEO of Charter was not twisting the wires somewhere behind the scenes.

You are blogging now. How could you be blogging with an internet breakdown?
The internet was restored, cable TV is still down.

So you missed the debate? A shame…
Oh no, I watched the debate. I had another non-cable TV, one of those ancient miniscule sets, but it was enough. I saw it all. Kerry clearly "won."

Whoaaaa! How can you say that? Don’t you want to know what others concluded? Didn’t you watch any of the post-election analysis?
That’s the trouble with these debates. Your opinion matters not a diddly swat. It’s all in the hands of the media analysts. America will decide on the wrong candidate based on the fact that some crackola after the debate will say that GW sounded in control or whatever.

Isn't it diddly squat?
Don’t skirt the issue. The issue is that immediately after the debate, a CNN poll indicated that 81% of those who watched the debate believed that Kerry “won.” One hour later, that number was down to 79% and plummeting. Now, either the Bush supporters are delayed CNN-readers, or we have people backing down because some jerko pundit offered her or his profoundly annoying observation on how Bush timed his smirks exactly right. Say what you will, I am with JF (here) and his mom in Iowa on this: Kerry did all that he could and he did it well. Anyone who thinks differently – meet me on the front lawn tomorrow at 6:45 a.m. and we’ll fight it out. That’s the proper way, isn’t it? All fists and no BILATERAL negotiations. EVER. Except with Vladimir. Who’s first-pal. And Kvahshnievskee – did I get that right? You know, the top honcho in Poland? The country that wont kick ass (JF terms) but will kiss ass (NC terms) with any current and future leader of this great land?

BTW, to the Polish Australian who linked to my post yesterday – yes, yes, I can agree to disagree, but COME ON! You’re not that down-under! See the light already!

Thirty-fourth street pre-election diary*

what does it say? 34th & eleventh avenue or eleventh hour? 

The great divide: if you follow thirty-fourth street from the Hudson River, beyond 11th avenue (does anyone ever step anywhere near 11th avenue? I saw not a soul), all the way east to the East River, you will see that indeed, there is nothing similar between the two ends of this important artery. (Note headline in today’s NYT: In Debate on Foreign Policy: Wide Gulf or Splitting Hairs?)

Thirty-fourth street: I come to it 34 days prior to November 2nd and on the day of the important debate on foreign policy.

Thirty-fourth street: so quintessentially American! The symbolism is amazing. On the Hudson River end I am facing the pier where ships, bringing immigrants from Europe, once docked. I came on one such ship way back, during my first crossing of the Atlantic in 1960. But look what has happened to the not-too-long-ago prominent United States Lines! Once a link to European nations, now a police outpost and depository for towed vehicles? Our connections to Europe are different now.

The day of the debate.

Not too long ago, this pier was a welcome sight 

Now that's depressing... 

Forget about the Hudson River. Move along, past the cherished symbols: the Empire State Building, Herald Square and the Thanksgiving Day parade, even a lovely view of the Chrysler building.

Here's a symbol that does not offend. 

"Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square..." 

34th, in a different light 

And then, after hiking across the entire girth of Manhattan, I am at the East River. Here, looking up toward the Queensborough Bridge, I cannot help but catch the silhouette of the UN. It is in need of a facelift, they say. The building is getting old. I am not a flag person. But I do like the line up of masts standing before it, all 189 plus one, the one with the light blue background and a map of the world enveloped in a wreath of crossed branches of the olive tree.

East River, the UN, as seen from 34th street 

from the ode to the UN: "United Nations on the rise, with flags unfurled, together..." 

I am not exaggerating the great drama of this day and of this street and of this period in history. Really I’m not.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Today is certainly the day for letters and calls:

- to the reader who asked if “wiry” was a typo (in reference to the NYTimes story described in post below) that was meant to be “wired” – the answer is no;
- to my mother who has been calling all afternoon, probably wanting to know if I am literate enough to read the Times and to ask how come she did not know about the moonlighting thing – sorry, I’ll pick up the phone soon, I promise (she does not read the blog);
- to the Democratic campaign headquarters that confirmed my purchase of all sorts of Kerry paraphernalia, I want to ask – what good is a yard sign without the wire frame? I need it quickly, since my neighbor just put up his Bush/Chaney sign (he is outnumbered! Our block is looking red!);
- to the dean or chancellor or some such high-up official who asked that we not intimidate students by stating our political preferences, let me assure you that I never mention my political inclinations in class (we talk about pizza instead, see post below). Besides, some of my good friends are voting for Bush. Really. I’m having dinner with one tonight;
- To my favorite travel agent in the world – yes, I’ll still talk to you even though I am famous;
- To the sociology prof who asked if Apple followed me here from my own trips to the Big Apple: unfortunately no. I am a mere fleck of dust on the Apple landscape. I met him only once before this most recent visit to Madison. A couple of years ago, we were at a bar, Apple, Chef O and I, and it was loud, and Apple said to Chef O “I feel my Italian sucks” and she heard it as “would you feel my Italian socks?” Always up for an original idea, she reached over and... yes, well, it all ended in great mirth.

A law prof's notes:

FAQs by law students in class:
- Will it be on the exam?
- Could you repeat what you just said?
- When are your office hours again?
- Why can’t we have an open-book exam?
- Can I bring in my paper one hour late? One day? One week?

FAQs by me in class:
- Do you remember what the court said in (such-and-such a case)?
- Are you saying that you’d like to pass today?
- Are you saying anything at all?
- Are you alive?
- What’s so funny, over there in the back row?

Unususal Qs asked by students in class:
- Do you like us enough to buy us pizza?
- Would you mind if I brought my mom and dad to class?
- What’s a blog?
- Did you see Avenue Q (the New York Broadway show)?
- Can we have wine instead of beer at your party next week (we’re so sick of beer…)?

Unusual Qs asked by me in class (just this week!)(with answers!):
- Okay, okay, you’ll do. – who is a vegetarian? – two out of twenty four.
- Who read the NYTimes today? – one, but I don’t think he read it THAT carefully.
- If you saw a baby on the railroad tracks and an oncoming train, would you save the baby? – depends...
- Why are you waving your hand excitedly? – in support of beer over wine.
- Who remembers what it was like in Berkeley in the late sixties (this is a propos of the brutal murder of Tatiana Tarasoff in 1969, leading to the famous “duty to warn foreseeable victim” court decision)? How old are you all anyway? – not old enough to remember what it was like in Berkeley in the late sixties.

Thirty-fifth street pre-election diary*

35th and tenth: a place to take your broken yellow wheels 

I could work the “fix it” routine to death in this post. The NYTimes alone has themes today that talk of Kerry coming in from behind, repairing a campaign that has faltered more than once, etc.

When I came upon this taxi repair place in New York among the empty lots of far west 35th street, I thought it was quite fascinating. There it was, this bright yellow splotch of awning, with, indeed, a “broken” taxi in front. Had I a folding chair, I may have sat down to watch. That’s the kind of dumb thing I would do in NY. And you wonder why I found myself out of time to visit a museum on this trip to the city!

Fame

And so now we know who, from the NYTimes, came to Madison several Saturdays ago to write a story on our Farmers Market. The piece appears in the paper today (here) and it is a beautifully written (of course) tribute to the farmers who lug their produce into town each week.

For the impatient reader who never clicks to the links, let me at least quote the line that succinctly captures so many disparate threads that run through my life. Apple writes:

After checking the list, (Odessa) slipped it onto a clipboard and handed it to Nina Camic, a wiry, Polish-born law professor at the University of Wisconsin who moonlights as the restaurant's "forager" or farmers' market purchasing agent, filling a little red wagon as she works the stalls.

Wiry. Yeah, that’s okay too. And he did in the end leave out the “personal shopper” bit. Purchasing agent sounds much more classy.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

I cannot help it -- it's in my blood

My sister forwarded an article yesterday where it is stated that, in terms of the number of blogs per Internet users, Poles are right at the top, surpassing American blogger rates two to one, and that’s not even counting those Polish blogs that are hosted on American domains, nor is it controlling for the disproportionately large number of Internet users in Poland as compared to elsewhere.

Why are we a nation of bloggers (I’m writing as a Pole now)? Why do we take to the Internet? Why do we feel the need to express ourselves in this way?

This is my chance to offer great insights into the Polish psyche. Caveat: I do not want my Polish friends/family members to jump on me for feeding national stereotypes in this post. I am not saying ALL Poles are this way, but I am saying that, errrr, some of us have, errrr, some, alright, a number, alright a GREAT number of these traits:

* We think we will all die tomorrow and so we feel compelled to hurry and put down every last word before the reaper comes knocking.

* We think we are a nation of poets; unfortunately, when we try our hand at poetry it doesn’t come out right and so we blog instead.

* We are a literate nation. We read a lot of news papers and magazines. We consume the stuff like our souls depended on it. Obviously all that reading makes us want to sound off about what we have just read.

* Our bloodline got mixed up with an Italian strain many centuries ago during years of conquest and royal travels. We are thus an expressive lot. Just like Italians. There, two stereotypes in one point.

* We have adventurous palates and we have ravenous appetites for trendy things. We’ll try anything that’s new and popular elsewhere.

* Vodka and blogging go hand in hand nicely. Have you ever tried writing a post with a chilled bottle of Wyborowa feeding a martini glass? No? Me neither, but it sounds enticing for a cold winter’s night. Or, to a Pole it does. With some pickles and maybe a piece of herring on dark rye. And cold stubby fingers sticking out wooly gloves.

But I refuse to accept the label of INSANITY levied not too long ago against those who blog or email obsessively. I put my foot down on that one. We’re passionate, but NOT insane. There’s a difference.

Thirty-sixth street pre-election diary*

even the one way arrow is twisted, warped...telling you to turn around and head back 

I’m writing from Madison now, but I’m full of New York images. The photo (above) contains three reminders for me:

First of all, we’re counting down, counting down, only thirty six days left ‘til November 2nd.

Secondly, I have come back to a messy house, yes I know it. Returns are like that – they point to omissions and deficiencies in your home and life that went unnoticed until you put some distance between yourself and them. Time to take charge and not repeat messes and mistakes of prior days!

Thirdly, yes, on so many levels, I admit that this show does stink: the election countdown, the unfinished stuff awaiting me back home, yes, indeed, it all is rather rotten.

It’s so nice to have visual reminders of failure and discontent.

Some trivial comments:

I traveled yesterday on a jet normally used as a charter for baseball and basketball teams (the words Knicks, Brewers and Bucks were mentioned. I assume I’m in the right ball park?). It was quite an experience to stretch one’s legs all the way, all the way and still not be able to come within a foot of the next row.

While our star athletes enjoy all that leg room, is this what awaits our young cadre of (high school? college?) graduates? Do they get to hang out here, on 36th street? (The glass reflects fabulous places in the garment district where they may find work; hey, at least two of the windows have an air conditioners; that’ll keep the sweat down.)

where those with diplomas congregate? 

I came home to a pile up of newspapers on the doorstep (having neglected to put a stop on delivery). Though I’d been keeping up in NY with the headlines in the NYTimes, I had not checked my local paper for five days, thereby missing the following front page stories:

Fans may get a bit puckish (Thursday)
More troops to be needed (Friday)
Ex-Texas gov Richards: Bush simple in debates (Saturday)
Kerry’s all ears (Monday)

Now, I know it is tough to write clever front-page headlines. Still, maybe I could hire a small staff of ‘bright young things’ and together we could work to help our local papers? Send us your stories, we’ll pitch the headline. There we go: Polack’s Pitches. Another money-making idea!

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Thirty-seventh street pre-election diary*

37th at fifth: where east meets west 

It is as if Poland and the Democratic Party are in cahoots, sharing space in prime Manhattan locations. For instance, on the corner of 37th and Madison you’ll find a building that houses the Consulate General of Poland. It was home to the National Democratic Club earlier in the XX century.

Thirty- seven days until November 2nd.

Oh, my life has become intertwined with these city streets! I pace up and down, finding links to people and places in the strangest locations. There are elements of me here, I know it! Indeed, in a godforsaken far-west block of 37th street, I am there, offering sweet things to the poor people who have to work in these dismal surroundings.

don't forget the "..and more." 

Do rough times and rough surroundings deserve a rough dialect? New Yorkers don’t mince words (see photo below). But in my opinion, the city has changed in recent years. Somehow the mean edge is turned inwards. People say “thank you so much” now, just like back in Madison. They make room for you at a Starbucks table (I have to go to Starbucks to post since my ‘second home’ does not have WiFi). They’ll hold a door open instead of slamming it in your face with a chuckle. They don’t walk as fast, they have more dogs, they pick up after their dogs, they bend down to pet the dogs of strangers.

Of course, deep down, they still know that they are sharper, more with-it, more subtly tuned to life’s intricacies than those living elsewhere in the country. Yesterday, I went to see “Bright, Young Things,’ often referred to as a British “Great Gatsby.” It was quite a striking production and of course, I had to feel some sense of pride as the main character, Nina, was chased about all film-long and much desired in an obnoxious sort of way. But I thought the movie was at best trivial. Leaving the theater behind a set of New Yorkers, I heard one say “Oh, what an incredible movie! But you had to pick up the subtleties! I’m sure many will have missed the quirky nuance!” Was she attacking my emergent bold and in-your-face Midwestern sensibilities? Or was she only being a New Yorker through and through?

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

why be modest about it... 

The edification of the immigrant continues*

(*I was told this today in no uncertain terms. Yes, this blogger is, herself, an immigrant and yes, she is indeed learning to adapt to her new home country.)

A Polish immigrant at Grand Central Station 

I do too know how to spell snooty! I do! (I just don't retro-edit. See post below.) Yes, I know there are shows to go to at night and I understand the concept of a city never sleeping! (I just haven't seen any.) Of course I like museums! Not all, but many. (No, not so far; maybe tomorrow.) But when I come to a city, I always am tempted by just the city itself. I mean, when you turn the corner and see this:

a view within a view 

the new improved Columbus Circle 

…it’s hard to tear yourself away from endless walking and poking around and looking at ordinary people, going about their business. Like this guy:

a man, a phone, an outfit 

Why use this photo in a post titled ‘immigrant edification?’ Because a lesson learned here is that nonconformity may be the best way to survive mediocrity (not to suggest anything about the stunningly colorful gentleman with the striped sock in the photo). How so? Well, I read in the Washington Post today that Bush, a weaker debater by far as compared to Kerry, may easily “win” the debate this Thursday. Why? Because he has developed his own style of debating, one that breaks all rules of traditional reasoned argument, but one that has indeed served him well in the past. The WPost notes that he has a love of using only one or two syllable words and he manipulates his expressive face maximally to win the audience. The news article suggested that the debates will ultimately push the undecided into one of the two camps. If they do, it will be a push based on style rather than substance. Now that is an interesting lesson for an immigrant like me to learn about the political process.

Thirty-eighth street pre-election diary*

moving down the blocks... 

A Sunday respite! Thirty eight days ‘til the election? Big deal! Thirty-eighth street garment district? Roll out those dresses!

it's all about garments 

It’s morning. Nothing has happened thus far. But yesterday… Yesterday! I walked 5 separate and distinct districts: SoHo, Little Italy, Chinatown, Lower East Side and the Snootty district.

You’re begging to be asked. Start with SoHo.
No no. Don’t start there. I went there because I wanted to visit Café Café – I have a t-shirt from Café-Café and I am loyal to places of t-shirt-acquisition fame.

Did they welcome you again with open arms?
Err, they were closed for Yom Kippur.

So then?
I ate lunch in NoHo. Never mind that. Let me move on.

Move on then. Little Italy. You seem to love this place. You think it’s like being in Italy, don’t you?
No, without a doubt, today I felt I was on a movie set. It has been said that Little Italy is a dying community – that the vibrant Chinatown is encroaching on blocks that used to be full of cannelloni and amore. But scroll down to the San Gennaro procession below. Does it give the appearance of a dying ethnic community?

enduring ethnic pride 

the Monalisa smile 

No, it looks like the scene straight out of the Godfather. And Chinatown? Does it look like a scene straight out of Chinatown (the movie)?

Actually, on a Saturday, it reeks of fish and other unidentifiable food stuffs. But oh, is it colorful!

always the lanterns 

I like the name better than "Will-Kill" back in Madison 

Then you went down to the Lower East Side. Describe!
Well, first of all, these neighborhoods aren’t as distinct as you would imagine. The overlap is quite evident.

So which is it -- Jewish? Chinese?