New York, New York! Part II: Statues, Strolls, Supper, and Too Many Pictures!

In the end, we made it to Battery Park (you were on the edge of your seat for that cliff-hanger, weren't you?). As we streaked up to the ticket office (our cell phones reading 2:45pm), I held only one hope: that they would allow us either to exchange or refund our tickets. You see, the website had been very strict: You depart at 2. Be there at least half an hour early to go through security, or you will miss your chance. Completely. And never-ever-ever get an opportunity to see the Statue of Liberty again. Ever. In fact, your name will be blacklisted from any sightseeing you ever thought you wanted to do for the rest of your life!

Or...I was sure it said something like that. Lo and behold, we arrived only to be informed that the departure time on our tickets was irrelevant, and ferries embarked every 15 minutes - just go get in line! I had so completely resigned myself to missing this iconic NYC moment, that I was excited beyond reason to wait in line for security! We were in!



Blustery wind (which seems to be the norm in NYC) flurried around us, mimicking our internal impatience and excitement to finally board and be on our way to visit Lady Liberty!

Apparently, the ferry was out of pretzels. We were sad.

But we were on the ferry toward Liberty Island! We were happy!

 

And then, suddenly, were were there! Bobbing up to the dock at Liberty Island and seeing the towering Statue of Liberty up close and in person - it was a fabulous moment. A fabulous moment which turned into a cool couple of hours as we strolled around the island and took waaay more pictures than we will ever know what do with!


 

A couple happy, windy hours later, we were patiently waiting in line for the return ferry, being very mature and acting like grown ups, just as young ladies in New York always do...


 

Actually we got a little bored. Waiting in line for an hour will do that to you, you know. Returning to shore, we had a minor detour, the telling of which...is just another "you don't want to know," and then we began a leisurely stroll up Broadway, only to discover...



...Trinity Church, at the intersection of Wall Street and Broadway!! (Shout out to all "National Treasure" fans!)

 
 

...and, of course, the Trinity graveyard (the one above ground, not beneath the church).

This fun discovery was followed by a more sobering event: a visit to Ground Zero. Words fail me. It was horrible, and sad, and right, and good, and a proper conclusion to our visit of Liberty Island. Lady Liberty is recognized world-wide as a monument to a new world, to a new life - to freedom. Walking a couple blocks deeper into the city, the Freedom Tower stands as the modern affirmation of her cause, soaring in blatant defiance of those who wanted to steal our freedom away, declaring "and yet, we are free."

~~~
Then there was more walking and random picture taking through the streets of New York.

In front of City Hall. :)

Our adventurous first day concluded (at least, according to the photographs) when our freezing feet found rest in a charming cafe in Little Italy, which has apparently shrunk in size to a mere two streets, China Town (which, despite its growing size, we did not visit) having grown over the former boundaries...

No extra charge for that quick geography lesson.

The food was, naturally, fabulous, but the atmosphere - couldn't be topped. :)

The street that boasted our restaurant. :)

 

    Yum Yum Yums! My first cannoli!

Only two more things have I to tell you:

1. Apparently, I lied about this stop being photographically the end of our day. A few pictures are being withheld to preserve whatever remains of the dignity of the subjects. The other proves that I most definitely had Kate with me at the subway stop before going home:

2. I like pictures too much, and thus find this post to have completely reached the scrolling limit. Translation? Day Two will have to follow. Let me tell you, it takes talent to turn 2 days into 3 blog posts. Only a master of superfluous words and obsessive picture taking can manage such a feat.

Over and out, gang!

Five Minute Friday: A Special Moment

Another 5 Minute Friday, with another lovely word: "Remembering"

My memories are not like other people's. I do not remember "when I was little" in chronological order. The people I saw every day, the things I did each week - they are simply not there. My memories are more like a scrapbook. Snap-shot moments placed at random. Some of them I know were special moments, others I am clueless as to their significance in my mind. Sometimes, I cannot even remember events I know now were milestone events. Who knows why this is?

 

I do know, however, that I treasure those moments I have. They are all special to me, now.

 

Like the time I was in my room, at night, and daddy brought little Ben in and put him in the crib at the foot of my bed. I still don't know why he was in there - ours was the girls room - but he was. For a moment after daddy left, Ben stood at the end of the crib closest to the door, and mournfully marked daddy's departure. I squirmed out from the covers, crawled down to the foot of my bed, and leaned over the crib, stretching out both my arms.

 

"Ben, you wanna do this?" (apparently a code word, or tradition)

 

Ben turned and walking on tiptoe to my end of the crib, replied, "I do, I do, I do!"

 

We grabbed each other's hands and just stood there, perfectly content.

 

And that's the end of the memory.

(a memory I love)

 

Want.

To.

Edit.

 

Posting now, to avoid the temptation.

 

What are some of your treasured memories? Do you remember moments, or seasons of your life?

 

Blessings!

 



Remembering

Don't ever forget, but know this: remembrance is worth nothing if it leaves no change in your life. My heart weeps for all the pain from the dreadful day, but especially for the hundreds and hundreds who died not knowing my Savior. Life really is a vapor. Don't spend yours afraid or hesitant to declare the only hope this world knows to a hopeless generation.

Pray for those who remember this day not because they watched it on tv, but because they are now fatherless, motherless, childless. Pray that they may know true peace and hope, through Him who gives it freely.

Remember.

Sweet Beginnings

I was sorting through my memory box this morning when I stumbled upon it. A letter-sized, white, sheet of paper, slightly stained with a mysterious substance (I'm guessing chocolate), that made its way into my possession about 9 years ago...

I had only been taking from my new piano teacher for a couple months when she gave me the insurmountable assignment: find a poem I liked, and put it to music. Coming home that morning, I was filled with trepidation. Grapple with the time signature, key signature, and the actual logistics of writing a melody and accompaniment out on a sheet of paper? Much as I loved the idea of composing my own songs, I was certain that a purposeful tune of my own was beyond my abilities.

But an assignment is an assignment. I struggled through the process, eventually finding myself with a piece that fit together, worked with the poem, and met all the theory requirements. Nonetheless, I was disheartened by the result. Benjamin, however, thought "The Captain's Daughter" was wonderful, and could daily be found pounding out the minor tune on the piano, until I finally cried in exasperation: "Ben, write your own piece!"

And so he did. A few days later I found a sheet of paper, folded in quarters, sitting on my bed.

Opening it up, my eyes beheld a two-line tune that switched meter not only unconventionally, but also unnecessarily, considering that the beats did not always add up anyway. I knew as I looked at it that the tune was unplayable - my musical prowess at the time was such that I could not understand playing a piece without the exact beats. Yet, I was touched by the title, and went to find Ben and thank him for "my song." "Yeah, well, I figured that I want to write lots of music, and if I ever get famous, I wanted the first song I had written to be for you," my 9-year-old little brother told me, gazing proudly at the sheet in my hand. I had him play it for me, and then copied his performance to the best of my abilities, using the paper to be sure of the notes. And so Ben's first composition was performed in the quiet of our music room - just he and I, sitting on a piano bench, sunshine warming our backs.

Several years later, in 2010, another piece of his was performed, this time for a much larger audience, when friend Jenny and I played the piano-cello duet he composed specifically for us: "Forgotten Fantasia." And again, this spring, another ensemble of his, "Time," was played by Emmy, Rachel, and friend Jo.

But tomorrow is the real deal. At 3pm, in the sanctuary of Mount Scott Church of God, Benjamin will conduct OPAYCO in the first performance of his orchestral piece, "Battle for Skandia." Exciting, beautiful, and just plain fun, it has been such a privilege to be a participant in the premiering of his music. Tomorrow, as the grin slides over my face in response to the catchy cello motif, or the throb of the timpani beat, or the melancholic measures of the English horn, I'll look at Ben, and remember his first song. I'll remember that afternoon, swinging our bare feet from the piano bench, playing "My Sister Sarah." And I'll be proud of my famous composer-brother.