It’s not everyday you can walk in and out of jail without a care in the world but, today, the NYC Department of Corrections opened up the Brooklyn House of Detention for visitors. It’s all part of the department trying to be a good neighbor.
You see, the jail was closed back in 2003 and it sat unused. Meanwhile, the surrounding neighborhood of Boerum Hill — which is next to Brooklyn Heights — boomed. High-rise condos were built, a boutique hotel went up next door and a Trader Joe’s opened. No one thought the jail would reopen but it turns out, everyone was wrong. It’s reopening tomorrow and will house up to 759 inmates. The ratio of correction officers to inmates will be 1 to 30, sometimes 1 to 50.
You can imagine this is not going over so well in the high-ticket neighborhood. As one gent who bought a $3.4 million house nearby told The Times, “we gambled on the neighborhood and lost.”
But you think he might have spotted it because the jail was not exactly hiding in plain sight. It’s a fairly big building and looks just like a jail. The DOC didn’t build it in a gentrifying area; the area gentrified around the building. Realtors were telling folks that it would be re-developed into condos but, oops, those plans fell through.
As soon as I heard the doors would be open today, I signed up along with about 500 other lucky souls. We were given the royal treatment inside. The correction officers could not have been nicer and we were served refreshments, including carrot cake made at Rikers Island, the city’s main jail facility. It was yummy and there was not a file to be found inside.
The Brooklyn House of Detention is not a place I’d like to spend a lot of time in but it did appear clean and freshly painted and, because it hasn’t been used in nearly a decade, there were no funky smells anywhere. We saw the clinic, the visitors room, the intake area, the kitchen and the cells. If you’ve seen even one jailhouse movie in your life, you have a good idea of what the cells look like. They were vintage — very small, with a single bed, a toilet, a tiny desk, plastic containers for clothing and another plastic container in which to wash your clothes. To dry them out, a CO informed us, an inmate could hang his unmentionables on the sink.There was a single shower nearby for the eight men (and it’s only men housed here).
One thing most New Yorkers do not know — which was made clear on the tour — is that city jails, including Rikers Island are meant to house the innocent really — those who have not yet been tried but who are unable to raise bail. The other inmates in city jails are those serving a sentence of a year or less. Any more and you’re shipped off to the state system. The Brooklyn House of Detention is especially convenient for men being tried in the Brooklyn courts. In fact, there is an underground tunnel from the jail to Criminal Court.
One of the conditions of taking the tour was no cell phones, no pictures so I left my cell phone and blackberry at home — breaking out of my own technological jail for a couple of hours. It was grand to be free!
If you come to NYC, you might be tempted to take a pedicab ride where a strapping young man (and sometimes women) peddles you from destination to destination for a goodly sum. It’s an interesting way to get from place to place for short distances. (I wouldn’t jump in one in Manhattan and ask them to peddle you to JFK.)
If you do, you should — they feel — know something about tipping and since I like to be of service to my fellow humans, here is a sign I spotted on a pedicab with the ‘suggested’ tipping scale.
Okay, so this is kind of amusing. First, there was that NY Times magazine article titled “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body.” It created an uproar (including from yours truly) because it gave the impression that maybe it’s just better to quit yoga than, you know, do it correctly and not be competitive.
On the heels of that comes this video from Equinox gyms starring Briohny Kate-Smyth, a lithe yogini doing a number of amazing asanas in her lingerie against the backdrop of a man in her rumpled bed (most men will probably not even notice this, so focused will they be on lovely Briohny’s body). This viral video also has created another uproar in the normally-peaceful yoga community. Kathryn Budig, a yogini who posed for a “Toe Sox” ad wearing nothing but the socks, has defended Briohny, saying ‘Hey don’t judge.”
Okay.
Now the website Feminsting has weighed in saying pretty much the opposite of what the NY Times article was about. The message here is “Yoga is good for you…just not THAT good. You can do yoga till the cows come home and you’ll never have a body like Briohny who, after all, is a world class athlete.” It’s all very interesting watching the arguments for and against the benefits and dangers of yoga go back and forth so quickly that you could get a strained neck.
Me, I think I’ll be in child’s pose until the controversy blows over.
It’s sometimes amazing to me that I never moved to Southern California because there was a time in my life I couldn’t get enough of the place. In fact, a select few of you know that I sometimes answer to the nickname “L.A.” and I remember getting a Dodger baseball cap for one birthday.
I traveled to California many times as a young guy but never could quite pull the trigger on moving. For me, it’s the road not taken.
I was thinking about all of this while I watched the sun literally set over the Pacific while standing on the beach in Santa Monica. How many times have I done that? I even remember sleeping in my car on this beach and reluctantly watching the sunrise! (That was a night I’d like to forget.)
In the end, it’s probably a good thing I never got aound to moving. I have a pretty great life in NYC and, while the city at times drives me nuts, I also embrace the energy of the non-stop streetlife. I think I finally made up my mind not to move because, in my heart, I thought everywhere else would seem too boring — even L.A. I’m the living embodiment of that famous New Yorker cartoon where there’s Manhattan, the Hudson River and then California, nothing in between. Of course, I know better but, for me, it’s always been either NYC or California.
Back to the beach and that setting sun. It’s breath-taking but would I love this beach so much if I actually lived here? Would I ever even venture down to Santa Monica or would the dreaded Los Angeles traffic keep me away. And would I have acheived half as much or would I have become just another locust in a land full of them?
Don’t sleep in the subways, darling…especially not in your seatmate’s lap…
One of the only ways to ride the NYC subways is to carve out a bit of space for yourself so you can feel, you know, reasonably human. If you’ve got a place to stand and read your book without someone hanging all over you, you’re set bud. But watch out for the wrong seatmate — you don’t want to be this guy, even though ‘this guy’ was kind of nonchalant about the whole thing. Not me, I’d be thinkging ‘Bedbugs!’ But check out this guy’s cool!
Whenever a city dweller like myself sees a big fat suburban store like Target, something happens. It’s as though we’ve been allowed entrance to the magical city of Oz — all these choices! no crowds! wide aisles! I think you have to live in a big box store-deprived city like NYC to understand. I have a friend who feels like he’s acheived Nirvana whenever he travels and is allowed entrance to…Walmart.
Anyway, there I was Saturday evening — driving through New Jersey — when my wife spotted a Target. “Pull over,” she just about screamed.
We were with my sister, another city dweller, who practically has to restrain herself from spending money in these stores. But in we went. My wife and sister went one way and I went the other. My wife bought a bunch of absolutely necessary items like pillows for our bed and a serving tray while I descended on the electronics section and purchased an external hard drive to back up our computer. Whoo-hoo! Who says we don’t know how to have fun on a Saturday night?
I really didn’t have a good grasp on what my wife bought at the time and she didn’t really know what I bought so when the cashier rang up nearly $300 for the bill, we looked at each other and said, “Wow, it kind of adds up.” I mentioned that the hard drive did cost $99.99 so the total seemed kind of reasonable. I confess to having no idea how much throw pillows go for these days.
It wasn’t until we got home that my wife checked the receipt and noticed that the cashier charged us twice for the hard drive — the most expensive item in the bunch!
I called the store and they said they’d be happy to look into it — all I had to do was come in with the receipt. “But I live in Brooklyn,” I moaned.
At that point, both the helpful guy on the phone and I realized that there was no way he was just going to believe me that I was overcharged for a $100 item. How could I prove that I had not really bought two of those hard drives. It was at this point that the CSI Target team swung into action. I’m not sure if David Caruso was on the team but he well might’ve been.
I held on the phone while the CSI team “checked the videotape.” Who would’ve guessed that Target videotapes every single transaction and can rewind the tape in minutes? All I had to provide was the receipt number and off they went.
Minutes passed and then a breathless clerk named Glen returned, “I just saw what happened,” he reported. “The items piled up on the belt and the hard drive was accidentally read twice. You were charged twice for one item. It was…..an accidental overcharge.”
OMG, not that! I thought but…actually, it was kind of good. I had been cleared by the videotape. I was free to return to New Jersey to pick up a refund….in cash! I took off my sunglasses and breated a sigh of relief.
The New York Times magazine story “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body” is one of those articles that takes the contrarian viewpoint, seemingly just to be provocative. And in that way, it succeeds. It’s also one of those articles that allows the yoga haters — you know who you are — to come out of the closet with chants of “I told you so…” Well, enjoy but I’m afraid you’re wrong.
In case you haven’t read the article (and I hope you don’t), the point is that yoga is not the cure-all that’s been advertised and that you can actually, gasp, get injured in yoga. What’s truly infuriating about the piece are the photos of wacky, ill-dressed actors doing their level best to make fun of asanas or yoga poses. (note to self: don’t go to ‘Godspell’ which features these actors.)
As someone who practices yoga (when healthy) four times a week, I find the photos insulting and the article misguided. Yes, you can get injured doing yoga just like you can get injured in any form of exercise.
Right now, I am not practicing yoga because I am injured — from jogging! I severely strained a ligament in my knee and I only wish I had stuck to yoga.
I will grant you that the article makes a good point when it notes that there are all kinds of yoga classes out there and some are not very good. In that, the writer is correct. I’ve found some studios and teachers to be poor examples of what yoga can and should be. I think the worst classes are those that tip too far over into just pure exercise and abandon the principles of yoga which, by the way, is intended to link movement and breathing. Anything less than that is calisthenics.
Yoga, to me, is about getting out of your head a bit and entering a different state of mind. That’s why I stopped going to one studio (where I had a pass for unlimited yoga for a month for $20) when, at the first class I took, every student was looking at his or her blackberries, iPhones or iPads. That’s no way to prepare for a yoga class my busy, anxious friends.
But if you go to a great yoga class (and there are great teachers out there like Tara Stiles at Stralayoga in Manhattan or Sarah Lewis at Jaya Yoga Center in Brooklyn), you’ll get a great workout and feel relaxed at the end of class. You’ll flat out feel better and, when that happens, there’s no exercise in the world quite like it.
Yes, it’s that craziest of holiday rituals when members of the Polar Bear Club head down to Coney Island on New Year’s Day and just dive into the Atlantic Ocean, damn the temperatures.
I’ve never attended this ritual until today but it seemed relatively balmy (above 50 degrees) so I figured why not? My impression of the Polar Bear Club was a dozen old guys surrounded by two or three photographers. Boy, was I wrong. There were thousands of people at Coney Island, and dozens, maybe hundreds were wearing bathing suits and taking the plunge. (BTW, if you even go to this, take the subway. Parking is insane. I finally gave up, pulled into the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant and bribed them with cash to let me park. It was easier than getting into a legit parking lot.)
It looked like a lot of fun and who knows, maybe next year I’ll try it. I have a whole year to think about it…..
[I was all set to write some meaningful New Year's Eve post about good intentions and all that but I kept thinking of this post from two years ago. I don't think I can top it, and I figure some of you have not read it, so here again is My Toothless New Year's Eve, January 1, 2010.]
So I go to this elegant New Year’s Eve party in a Manhattan coop, high above the hoi polloi struggling against each other to get a glimpse of the ball. Feeling smug and sophisticated, I begin a conversation with a well-dressed, stylish woman and we’re having a nice conversation and all when I notice that she is covering the front of her mouth with her hand.
After this goes on for a while, I say, “Is something wrong with one of your teeth?”
She nods, “Uh-huh. One of my caps is loose. I go to this terrible dentist.”
“Why do you go to him if he’s terrible?”
“Because he’s a cool guy. He’s a Buddhist but he’s terrible. The caps on my two front teeth keep falling out and he replaced one but it was the wrong color and it still doesn’t fit.”
“Why do you keep going to him?”
“That’s what everyone says. I feel bad because he’s a cool guy and has a place in Woodstock and plays great music in his office.”
Right now, I’m thinking this is an episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm and begin to look for a hidden camera. She continues: “I called him tonight when my tooth came loose and his answering service said he was in Costa Rica on vacation. When I reached him, he told me to put Superglue on it.”
She wanders over to the host to ask about Superglue but though he has three different kinds of wine, he has no Superglue. Alas. She comes back to continue out conversation. “Ok, I can still talk but I can’t say any words that begin with an F,” she says.
At this point, my wife and another woman join the conversation and we’re talking until this tooth-challenged woman begins telling us about one of her FRIENDS. The moment she says the word, the cap on her tooth flies out of her mouth and lands squarely in her wine glass.
I crack up, she looks mortified and the others don’t have any idea what’s happening. She retrieves the cap from her wine glass, pops it back in her mouth and continues talking.
Just then — and I swear this is true — our host tells us we’re all going next door to see the ball drop in a bigger apartment where two of his friends live, both of whom are DENTISTS!!!!
I look at my toothless friend and raise my eyebrows. “Sounds perfect for you,” I say.
“Uck you,” she tells me, turning on her heel and walking out the door.
I have seen the future and there are no bookstores…
The dearly departed Coliseum bookstore...
I work very near The Time Warner Center in one of the epicenters of Manhattan, one of the most populous places in America, and yet there is no place to buy a book in the neighborhood.
I was thinking about that just before Christmas when I wanted to buy someone the cult classic “Time and Again” by Jack Finney, one of my all-time favorite books about New York. It wasn’t until then that it hit me — there are no bookstores anywhere near where I work and I work in MANHATTAN! There used to be a great Border’s bookstore in the Time Warner Center but that’s closed. There used to be a spacious Barnes & Noble bookstore over near Lincoln Square but that closed. There was the dearly departed Coliseum bookstore on 57th Street and Broadway but that’s so last century.
With all those big boys gone, there was nowhere for me to buy a book. I thought hard about the closest bookstore in an area that has tens of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of people, passing through it every day. The best I could come up with the Rizzoli bookstore a good walk away on 57th Street but it carries mostly art books and it’s not a general interest bookstore. Other than that, there is the Barnes & Noble on W. 82nd and Broadway and the Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue around 45th Street which, you know if you live in NYC, is a very far walk.
And it’s not only NYC. Recently I happened to be Beverly Hills on business and went for a long walk around my hotel which was near the Rodeo Drive. I walked at least five blocks in almost every direction and, while I could have bought virtually anything else, there was not a bookstore to be found.
All this is not news of course what with e-readers taking over the world but it is sad that, even in Manhattan — one of the most literary places in the United States, it’s sometimes tough to find a bookstore, never mind a good bookstore. My supposition is that the big boys are not going to make it but that small, independent bookstores like the ones where I live in Brooklyn (Word, Greenlight, Book Court or McNally-Jackson in Manhattan) will succeed by becoming combination bookstores and neighborhood gathering places….at least I hope that will be the case.
Okay so for this post I’m going to steal a page out of my wife’s book. She runs a baking blog, full of recipes and pictures of delicious things so today, it’s my turn and I’m going to talk about Italian honey balls, known in some parts as strufoli.
Every year, my brother and sister and I — along with our extended families — assemble for a holiday called Honey Ball Day (I know what you’re thinking but, no, it’s not exactly like that Seinfeld holiday of Festuvus.) It’s better because it involves eating sweet little honey balls. Of course, here’s the key difference between my baking post and my wife’s — I don’t actually do much baking. My brother and sister do that. I usually just lend an air of festivity to the goings-on and take photographs like the ones you see here.
But I am going to tell you how to make these honey balls in case you’re so inclined. According to my brother Bob, here’s the recipe:
3 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 tblspoons sugar
10 tablespoons of oil or 1/2lb of butter melted
Add some water to moisten dough
Mix dry ingredients and wet separately combine and knead dough.
Once you have the dough, you roll it out, cut it into little balls and deep fry those suckers. When brown, remove, drain the oil, let dry and then pour on the heated honey. Once you do that, you can call the kids in to pour on the sprinkles and voila, you’ve got more honey balls than you’ll know what to do with. Enjoy and Happy Honey Ball Day!
My nephew enjoying Honey Ball Day!
Putting on the red wrapping paper, making honey balls suitable for gift-giving!
Does the ‘Barefoot Bandit’ deserve so much jail time?
The ‘Barefoot Bandit’ is on my mind.
The so-called bandit actually is a 20-year-old high-school dropout named Colton Harris-Moore who yesterday was sentenced to 7 years in prison after pleading guilty to more than 30 counts of theft.
I’ve been thinking about him in relation to a woman named Providence Hogan who stole more than $80,000 from a PTA fund at a public school in Brooklyn. Hogan, the mother of a young daughter, claimed she needed the money for fertility treatments, and to fund her luxury day spa in brownstone Brooklyn. She got no jail time.
Just before Hogan pleaded guilty to theft earlier this year, a female NY Times writer wrote an incredibly sympathetic story about Providence and how she had a difficult childhood, how her husband and she seemed not to speak at a court hearing, how some in the community just wanted her to pay back the money and do no jail time. The article seemed to turn the tide in Hogan’s direction. About a month later, she pled guilty, repaid $50,000 she stole and promised to pay the other $32,000 over a two-year period.
Now these two cases are NOT alike and yet on some level, to me, they are. I don’t know exactly what type of troubled childhood Providence had but I’m betting very few people have been dealt a worse hand than Colton who, according to a forensic psychological report, barely survived his alcoholic mother and variety of violent men who paraded through her decrepit trailer. I know a fair bit about this story because I covered it for CBS News, have had conversations with Colton’s mother, and have visited that trailer. Let’s just say I was pretty happy not to be invited inside.
When Colton began stealing at a young age, he was stealing to eat! As a child, Colton begged his mother to have more food in the house. A social worker wrote, “Mother refuses.”
Back to Providence Hogan who today is walking free. I don’t really have a problem with that as long as justice is meted out in an even-handed manner. Colton has already done about 18 months in a federal pen and he is paying full restitution to all his victims thanks to 20th Century Fox which paid $1.3 million for his life story. He gets nothing; his victims are made whole.
Does this still young man deserve what might amount to a decade of prison time (he could get more time when federal charges are figured in)? He was failed by nearly every adult figure in his life, including the school system and social workers who never removed him from his home. Society only woke up when he began committing crimes but Colton had been shouting for attention for years.
And now you can read Colton’s letter to the judge and decide for yourself what to think about this case: THE LETTER .
It’s hard to sympathize with Alec Baldwin, a short-fused celebrity living a rarified life ignoring the pleadings of a lowly flight attendant and yet….I kind of know where he’s coming from.
I too have a problem with many of the rules and regulations of air travel that can make anyone a bit bonkers. I consider the many announcements made before takeoff the equivalent of noise pollution and I just wish I could turn them all off. Let’s face it, if you do not know how to buckle your seat belt by now or that no one has smoked in an airplane for 25 years then, well, you’re just plane dumb (pun intended.)
Nothing gets me more irritated than the rule that states I cannot use my e-reader, whether it be a Kindle, a Nook or an iPad, while the plane is taking off. I find this ‘rule’ particularly abhorrent not because I cannot be without my e-reader for 20 minutes or so but because IT MAKES NO SENSE. When turned to the airplane mode, these e-readers are the equivalent of books. They do NOT emit any signal whatsoever. Read this article if you don’t believe me; it makes the case that announcing everyone should turn off their devices might actually be more dangerous!
If you ban the use of e-readers, you might as well ban the reading of all books. After all, there is always the possibility that a bat could fly out of one. Sound ridiculous? Of course but so is demanding that passengers turn off their e-readers.
In fact, e-readers are less offensive than many women’s magazines with perfume strips that offend my senses but there’s nothing I can do about that.
When rules make no sense and you know it, the pilot knows it and the flight attendants know it and yet, they demand you follow those idiotic rules for the sake of nameless bureaucrats in Washington DC, it leads to aggravation and, in the case of someone like Baldwin, an eruption. No one seems to know the details of his incident but if the plane was sitting at the gate, as he says, why did he or anyone else on the plane have to stop playing his silly word game? Makes no sense.
I don’t know about you but I do not follow rules just because someone tells me they’re rules. They also need to make sense or else, well, I just might ignore them. My one wish in life is to live long enough to see the FAA waive the rule requiring flight attendants to tell all of us how to buckle a seat belt. That will never happen of course so I believe I’ll live a very long life indeed.
Looking to try something new in NYC? How about a cemetery tour?
Singing tour guide belting out a song from "West Side Story" while standing on grave of composer Leonard Bernstein.
You read that right, a cemetery tour. I’ve done a lot of strange things in NYC but, until last week, I had yet to check cemetery tour off my list.
The tour I took was at Green-Wood Cemetery, an historic array of grave-sites on the outskirts of Park Slope. It is a beautiful, extraordinary place (no kidding) that was, for a time in the 19th century, the No. 2 tourist attraction in the nation behind Niagra Falls. I’m not sure if that’s a testament to the beauty of this cemetery or the lack of cable back then. Let’s just say, it was a different time, a time when people got all excited about where Gov. DeWitt Clinton was going to be buried.
Green-Wood carts around the curious on trolleys complete with tour guides, and the tours are still so popular that they often sell out, and pretty much are conducted all the way through the winter. When I finally took this extraordinary tour recently, I not only had a tour guide, I had a singing tour guide who broke out into a tune from “West Side Story” while standing on top of the grave of composer Leonard Bernstein. When the earth didn’t open up and swallow her, I figured she was doing okay.
Famous dead people have always been the calling card of Green-Wood since its inception. Aside from Bernstein and our dearly departed Gov. Clinton, you can also find the graves of Boss Tweed, Currier & Ives (not buried together), mobster Joey Gallo and artist Jean-Michel Basquiat to name a few. And sometimes the graves of people you’ve never heard of are the most impressive, like that of the founder of the ASPCA.
But my favorite story of the tour is about the people afraid of being buried alive. Seems during the Victorian Era, it was fairly common to bury those not quite ready. People were so afraid of this, as you can imagine, that Green-Wood marketed above-ground graves. Actually, the graves were in what could be considered a large crypt and, get this, they were sold with air vents that are still visible. The idea of course was that, if you were still alive, you’d need a little fresh air. But how does one escape from a coffin? Strings were attached to fingers and if you moved your fingers, an above-ground bell would ring, hence the term “saved by the bell.” See, there was life before TV.
Green air vents for the unlucky few buried alive.
Grave with a bear on top, as seen from the trolley tour.
I get as excited as a good online deal as the next person but the brash consumerism of today combined with the crazy mobs of this past weekend, does make me a bit nauseated by the out-of-control materialism of our culture….BUT I have found something to buy that actually makes me feel better and I’m betting it will do the same for you.
In case you don’t know of an organization called Heifer International, I’d like to alert you to it. The goal of this well-known and established organization is nothing less than to end poverty and hunger in the world.
I know what you’re thinking: what can I do about THAT?! I’ve felt the same way from time to time but Heifer has convinced me that I can do something and it’s simple, easy and it always leaves me feeling better. This organization provides livestock and training to the world’s poorest people.
The way Heifer does this is ingenious and I’ve been doing it at holiday time for the past few years. Simply go to the online store where you’ll see that for various donations of money, you can literally buy anything from a llama (cost to you: $150) to a flock of geese ($60). Heifer will use your gift to buy that item for villagers in a small, impoverished town somewhere in the world.
So buy that iPhone or scarf or whatever if you must but please remember than you can also buy a pig, sometimes for less money and for far more impact.
There was a lot of back and forth between the NYPD and the OWS protestors yesterday but, in the end, what happened? That’s the question a lot of people are asking about this movement which celebrated its two-month existence with a lot of talk and civil disobedience.
Don’t get me wrong. I think it is good that someone is talking about jobs (although President Obama has been doing plenty of that as well) but lately it seems as though the movement is more about tangling with the police than anything else. Sure, it looks bad for the cops and Mayor Bloomberg when a protester is photographed bleeding from his head..even though the fine print is a story that claims the protester flipped the hat off a uniformed police officer. If that’s true, the protester is just plain dumb as well as disrespectful. Like them or not, police deserve respect, just as much as the protesters.
Fighting with police makes good video but to what end? What does this movement stand for? Past movements in this country fought for civil rights, women’s rights, an end to the Vietnam War — all clearly defined goals. But fighting for pay equity?
I’m against crazy bonuses for CEO’s who destroy their companies and profit anyway, but I can’t say I’m for pay equity. I know even know that means in the capitalist society we live in.
And then there’s the disquieting sense of entitlement in some of the signs held by protesters that strike me as tone deaf. Okay so you’re $100,000 in debt and don’t have a job but exactly who was it that told you to go to that elite college and not a state school? Your choice = your responsibility.
Yes, the banks got a sweet deal thanks to TARP so why doesn’t OWS ask for something similar for the millions in foreclosure? What about advocating for a mortgage forgiveness program? Seems that would get a whole lot of people on their side. This movement is desperate for clear and simple goals.
And, as much as this movement wants to be democratic, it sorely needs a leader. Where’s this generation’s Abby Hoffman, someone smart, funny and charismatic? OWS is playing by its own rules, all right, but the jury is out on whether these rules make any sense.
Does this smile look like it needs $36,000 worth of dental work?
The story of this “Dental Cult” begins with my wife’s toothache.
Her tooth began aching on a Friday (of course…don’t toothaches always happen on Fridays, the day most dentist leave the office early?) and, rather than drive all the way to her regular dentist in Staten Island, she decided that she needed someone right away and right close. Her regular dentist referred her to a woman dentist (who he was friendly with) who worked on Madison Avenue, the Gold Coast of Manhattan dentistry.
This dental office was unlike anything my wife had even seen. It looked, she said, more like a high-end spa than a dental office and the entire staff appeared to be entirely comprised of EST or Mindspring graduates.
In my wife’s words: “I felt surrounded at all times and catered to in a way that was a bit much. They must have all taken some hyper customer service training. From the receptionist to the office manager, they all shook my hand, told me how happy they were that I was there. I felt like they were going to form a circle around me and chant that they loved me. It was really weird.”
And the flattery didn’t end there: “[The dentist] told me I looked like I was in my 30s! I’m in my 50s and know that I look my age (which I’m fine with) but that sort of low level pandering, false flattery stuff was quite odd and disingenuous. Made me question her judgement. ”
But after that initial visit, my wife agreed to a follow-up “deep cleaning” (that wound up feeling very much like a run-of-the-mill cleaning) and an examination of her mouth to see what other work she might need.
“While I was waiting in the chair, at least three employees came into the room, introduced themselves and asked how my cleaning was….like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was a cleaning, for God’s sake! I have many more similar stories, all experienced in just two visits!! The dentist also called me for two or three consecutive days following my first visit, to see how my tooth was. Nice, but a bit excessive.”
Then came the moment of truth. The dentist was prepared — on yet another $150 visit — to give my wife an update about what her teeth needed done. Turns out, they needed quite a bit. Her mouth, the dental cult reported, was riddled with root decay, rot and, honestly, it was nothing short of a miracle that her teeth had not just dropped out of her head.
But not to fear — there was good news: it could all be fixed with $36,000 worth of dental work.
“And as I was leaving the “consultation”….the office manager followed me to the door, praising the dentist, saying how important it was to have the work done, how I could join their payment plan and pay just $670 a month!
I pointed out to my wife that, for that amount, we could lease a top of the line Mercedes Benz for a few years.
Now, my wife is scrupulous about going to dentists and does so regularly and so was understandably suspicious (whereas I just would have begun laughing hysterically had I been presented with that bill.) She immediately reported back to her regular Staten Island dentist what had transpired. One can only imagine his shock at having somehow overlooked $36,000 worth of work.
Here is what he had to say:
“Dear Susan,
When I sent you to them it was to treat the emergency ONLY and for a referral to a root canal specialist if you needed.
I was not referring you there for any thing else. Why you were examined outside of the emergency and treatment planned for $36,000 worth of dental care is foreign to me…
If I thought you were in a condition that required this or a referral to a periodontist was needed, I would have referred you. I have reviewed your records in my office and they do not substantiate this [type of dental work]… Perhaps it best you call us and make the trip to Staten Island for me to see what was being looked at….
My wife agreed because, although Staten Island is a bit out of her way, the toll over the Verrazano Bridge is nowhere near $36,000….and they don’t make you drink the Kool Aid.
Of all The Beatles, I’ve always been partial to Paul for obvious reasons but the more I read about him lately, the more I’m convinced that maybe I’ve been underestimating him all these years.
I know that sounds ridiculous but for the man who likely is the world’s greatest living songwriter but Paul’s press clippings are off the charts fantastic whether it’s his music or personality. This morning, I was reading a review of the new documentary “The Love We Make” which is about the concert of superstars held just after the World Trade Center attacks.
Here’s what the reviewer had to say about Sir Paul who, as usual, is the star of the show:
Clinging to Mr. McCartney from makeup chair to pre-interview chats with the likes of Dan Rather and Pat O’Brien, from rehearsals with his band to meet-and-greets with celebrities, the directors, Bradley Kaplan and the legendary Albert Maysles, present a man of unflinching graciousness. Comfortable with everyone, whether a half-crazy street crawler or a backslapping Bill Clinton — who has never seemed so beamingly unguarded — Mr. McCartney maintains an unflappable affability that feels simultaneously well honed and completely genuine.
She’s not the only who feels that way. A recent New York Times review (by a different writer) of the George Harrison documentary by Martin Scorsese, had this to say about McCartney:
…the effervescent, impossibly charming Paul McCartney. Even after all these years — and even in Harrison’s own film — Mr. McCartney still steals the show, every chance he gets.
And when the former Beatle played Citi Field last year, a NY Post reviewer wrote that at this point in his career, it’s almost like Paul is performing a public service by playing his old hits.
Wow. I know John Lennon once said The Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ but I never guessed Paul would be getting better press than God Almighty.
This is just what it says, photos taken during a random walk in downtown New York on a beautiful fall day. To see all the rest, click on the photo below:
The other day — on the way to the dentist, no less — I had one of those nightmare commutes.
As soon as I walked downstairs to the subway platform, it was immediately clear it was going to be one of those days. The platform was packed. The F train, my preferred train, came and went filled with unhappy-looking, squished commuters; I knew I’d have to let two or three go by before I could board.
I put Plan B into action. I decided to board a G train which, as everyone in NYC knows, stands for God-awful. I knew I’d be heading far out of my way but, like a shark, I like to keep moving forward. The G got me to the A which got me to the 7 which got me to the D which got me to the F and, voila, I had the pleasure of having my teeth drilled.
Along the way, I grumbled and groused to myself about the sorry state of mass transit. The subways of course are the lifeblood of NYC and the trains themselves are pretty good but maintenance is being cut back, the fares are going up, and most of the stations are a mess. Peeling paint, missing tiles, rats, leaks and stuffed to the gills trash cans are the order of the day.
I began to wonder why New York’s subway system was like this. Given that the economy is desperate for jobs AND the fact that taking mass transit is better for our environment than cars, shouldn’t the government be pouring money into the subway system? Alas, it’s the just the opposite.
Which brings me to the debt and the need for austerity measures. Like a lot of others, I’m beginning to think this is entirely wrong-headed. We should be pouring money into the economy, and damn the debt. I think because of the politics of the times (hello, Tea Party), we’re on the verge of digging ourselves into a double dip recession.
We should be spending money on the subway system and thus improve our commute and create jobs.
I went to a documentary Monday night titled “Mister Rogers and Me” and it’s about an MTV producer (of all people) who says he received a profound message from Mister Rogers when the great man was actually the producer’s neighbor in Nantucket.
“I feel so strongly,” Mister Rogers told Ben Wagner that day, ”that deep and simple is far more essential than complex.”
As Wagner thought about it, Fred Rogers encouraged Wagner to spread the word. And now with this documentary, he has.
Like a lot of you, I haven’t thought a lot about Mister Rogers much since I was a kid but I did read a number of his obits when he died and realized then how much I had underestimated this guy who was simple yet very profound.
In an age of runaway commercialism and nasty backbiting, Rogers stood his ground with the simple message that “anything that is mentionable is manageable.” He truly did believe in communication and the idea that, if people only spoke to one another, anything was possible.
One of the documentary’s high points is watching Fred Rogers disarm Congressman John Pastore who was holding hearings to determine if a $20 million grant to PBS should be cut in half. Pastore was a tough guy who began his questioning of Mister Rogers in his usual brusque way.
But Rogers wasn’t there to engage Pastore in the usual way. The gentle man spoke to Pastore in a pointed, direct and very humble but real way that left Pastore, in his own words, with “goosebumps.” The tough congressman wound up the questioning by telling Rogers “you’ve just earned your $20 million.”
Wow. If only the Democats, Republicans and President Obama could talk to each other this way. The world would be a better place and maybe our country could even move forward. I’m not sure what the plans are to release this documentary wide but you should take a look at the website and trailer for yourself.
It left me pining for more people like Mister Rogers who truly was a great and unique man.
I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. Why would a reasonably intelligent guy like me ride on the outside of a subway car and risk my life?
The answer is that I did it when I was a young teenager and, on that particular day, I was obviously not thinking clearly. I still think of it as one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.
I had more or less forgotten the episode until the now-infamous subway surfer video popped up on the internet last week. Usually, it’s listed under “idiot rides on outside of subway car.” That’s about right.
To this day, I couldn’t tell you why I did it. My only excuse is that I was a city kid who specialized in death-defying feats. This one happened on the St. Lawrence Avenue stop of the #6 train in the Bronx. I had just gotten off the train with some friends and, in a moment of sheer insanity, I thought it would be fun to ride on the outside of the train.
The small lip where the doors close beckoned me and I stepped aboard, holding on for dear life to the lip above the doors. The train pulled out with me on the side. We traveled together for about 10 to 15 feet when I thought the better of it and hopped off.
I had the presence of mind to know that I should hit the ground running so I wouldn’t fall but it didn’t matter. I went down flat on the face, barely missing an iron pillar.
I don’t remember being hurt other than a few bruises and my friends didn’t seem to concerned either — they all laughed. In fact, when I saw one of them recently, he reminded me of that day and was still laughing. I never bothered telling my parents.
That’s the scary thing to me about having kids — knowing all the dumb things you did and barely got away with. So when it comes to subway surfing, here’s my advice — don’t do it.
I was walking to work the other day in midtown when a tourist stopped me for directions. I couldn’t make out his accent but I knew what was on his mind. “Excuse me,” he said, “Can you tell me the way to Hooters?”
Oy vey, as they say.
There’s so many things to do in NYC but eating lunch at Hooters is not on my list. If you’re going to go in that direction, at least have the decency to go to Score’s or the Hustler Club. I mean really.
Visitors often ask me for suggestions about what to do in New York, so here’s a list of five of my favorites mini-adventures (obviously, I’m leaving out the iconic sites like the Empire State Building, the 9/11 memorial and the Statue of Liberty):
The Highline – Most tourists have never heard of it but it is THE thing to do in New York right now. The Highline is an old railroad line some 20 feet above ground that you walk on. Simple. It starts around Gansevoort Street and goes to about 20th Street and it is delightful on a nice day. There are plenty of places to eat down below on the street and it’s great for people watching.
Take a yoga class with a world-class teacher — One of the advantages of the city is that you can take a yoga class virtually any hour of the day and the teachers here are the best in the world. My favorite place is run by Tara Stiles who does a lot of work with guru Deepak Chopra. Her studio is Stralayoga and it’s affordable, fun and friendly. Take a class with Tara herself or Heidi Kristoffer, another great teacher. Don’t be intimidated; these women are friendly, humble and approachable.
Walk, walk and walk some more – New York is a walking city. There’s tons to see and sights everywhere. Times Square is a spectacle but go downtown. Turns out Petula Clark was right, that is where the action is whether you walk in SoHo, Tribeca or the newly-rediscovered Lower East Side. You won’t be sorry and definitely get around town by subway. It’s the best $2.25 you’ll ever spend here and, at least until 10 p.m. or so, not dangerous at all.
Visit one of the best independent bookstores – For my money, that’s McNally-Jackson bookstore at 52 Prince Street. It’s in the very cool neighborhood of Nolita where there are tons of boutiques and bistros and it is a destination bookstore with a cool cafe, great books and even one of the city’s only Espresso Book Machines where you can print up your own or someone else’s book in minutes, or in the time it takes to get an espresso.
Katz Deli – Here’s the best reason to go to Katz on the Lower East Side (not far from another great bookstore located in the New York Tenement Museum shop) — someday, it won’t be there anymore and, believe me, you’ll kick yourself for not going when you can. Katz has been around since 1888 so I have a feeling it might last but I thought the same thing about Horn & Hardart Automats and Dave’s on Canal where I always stopped for a pretzel and an egg cream. Katz is a true throwback. There’s nothing phony about the place. I always get a pastrami sandwich but I’m partial to the hot dogs as well. Treat yourself — life’s not all about salad.
Today I went to the Creators Project in DUMBO, Brooklyn, an arts and technology festival. It was full of arty and fun projects and a bunch of great bands and DJ’s were there including Florence and the Machine. Not sure I’m going back to see Florence though I think she’s a great singer but I did happen upon a group called Chairlift which was pretty awesome in its own right.
Here are the pix from today’s outing. Of course, I couldn’t resist taking pix of the beautiful people attending. Enjoy:
It’s sometimes amazing to me that I never moved to Southern California because there was a time in my life I couldn’t get enough of the place. In fact, a select few of you know that I sometimes answer to the nickname “L.A.” and I remember getting a Dodger baseball cap for one birthday.
Anyway, there I was Saturday evening — driving through New Jersey — when my wife spotted a Target. “Pull over,” she just about screamed.
So I go to this elegant New Year’s Eve party in a Manhattan coop, high above the hoi polloi struggling against each other to get a glimpse of the ball. Feeling smug and sophisticated, I begin a conversation with a well-dressed, stylish woman and we’re having a nice conversation and all when I notice that she is covering the front of her mouth with her hand.
Okay so for this post I’m going to steal a page out of my wife’s book. She runs 
The ‘Barefoot Bandit’ is on my mind.
It’s hard to sympathize with Alec Baldwin, a 
I get as excited as a good online deal as the next person but the brash consumerism of today combined with the crazy mobs of this past weekend, does make me a bit nauseated by the out-of-control materialism of our culture….BUT I have found something to buy that actually makes me feel better and I’m betting it will do the same for you.
There was a lot of back and forth between the NYPD and the OWS protestors yesterday but, in the end, what happened? That’s the question a lot of people are asking about this movement which celebrated its two-month existence with a lot of talk and civil disobedience.
Of all The Beatles, I’ve always been partial to Paul for obvious reasons but the more I read about him lately, the more I’m convinced that maybe I’ve been underestimating him all these years.
The other day — on the way to the dentist, no less — I had one of those nightmare commutes.
I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. Why would a reasonably intelligent guy like me ride on the 
I was walking to work the other day in midtown when a tourist stopped me for directions. I couldn’t make out his accent but I knew what was on his mind. “Excuse me,” he said, “Can you tell me the way to Hooters?”
