Manhattan

New York City.  Finally.  It is, indeed, a hell of a town.

Yesterday started early.  We woke before dawn and bundled up.  Sam's Grams gave us a lift to the train station and we caught the 7:27 train to Grand Central.  Being on a train again brought back a lot of memories of London, Kuala Lumpur, and Osaka.  I watched out the windows with great anticipation as we passed through several small towns like Bedford Hills and Chappaqua.  As we got closer to the city, the buildings got denser and taller.  We passed through a tunnel and suddenly we're riding through Harlem.  Brick apartment buildings were scattered to the horizon; the city seemed to stretch on forever.  It wasn't long before we entered another tunnel and arrived at Grand Central Station.

Surreal was the word of the day, for sure.  Here I was, standing in arguably the most famous train station in the world, looking up at the windows and tile work with my own eyes.  It wasn't as busy as I expected, thanks to us arriving at a non-peak time, and I was able to wander the levels a bit with my camera.  Sam showed me the aural phenomenon that is Whispering Corners (a landing in the station where two people can face away from each other and talk into the tile and hear each other from quite a few feet away.  It reminded me a little of Center of the Universe in Tulsa.  I wonder if this was intentional or just a coincidence, much like the Center?  

Leaving the station, I was greeted with my first real look at the city...and it was busy.  People rushing everywhere on their important errands, trash piled up at the curbside, and Starbucks shops as far as the eye could see.  We took my friend Richard's recommendation to see the Chrysler Building lobby first (an art deco treasure) before walking down to the New York Public Library.  It wasn't open yet, but I got to see the iconic lions out front with their decorative Christmas wreaths.  Around the other side sat Bryant Park, with a few pop-up shops and an ice rink.  Sam tells me the fountain there was featured in the opening for Friends...but seeing as how I never watched that show I just nodded and smiled.  We walked a bit further and I suddenly found myself surrounded by the bright lights of Times Square.

Surreal, once more.  It was the day before New Year's Eve; police barricades were already set up in many areas and preparations were well underway for the celebration.  I stood in the center of the square, nearly by myself, looking up at advertisements and displays that cost more than I'll probably make in my lifetime.  Taxi cabs crawled around me and people continued their rushing about.  I took my small TARDIS out to get a shot of the square when I noticed a guy taking a picture with a worn little sock monkey.  He saw my TARDIS and we talked for a few moments; he was in the city on business and was taking a picture of the monkey for family back home in Oregon.  He was a Doctor Who fan and insisted on getting a few shots my traveling companion as well.  We parted ways as quickly as we met; Sam and I wandered from the square and headed to Rockefeller Plaza.

The walk from Times Square to Rockefeller was filled with more sights that littered my memory, including Radio City Music Hall & NBC Studios.  We rounded the corner to the plaza and my vision was filled with one of the largest trees I'd ever seen.  People were everywhere, taking photos and reveling in the giant Christmas tree.  Ice skaters glided around below us as we circled the plaza, looking into the Lego Store and the nearby Nintendo World store.  My heart was full of excitement as we went into 30 Rockefeller Plaza and rode the elevator up to the observation deck.  It was there that I saw the most amazing sight of the day:  Manhattan from 70 floors up.  We walked around the rooftop and could see to the horizon in all directions.  The Empire State Building and World Trade Center to the south, Central Park to the north, and all points in between.  It was stunning!

Once we descended back to the surface, we took the subway south to the Flatiron district.  The Flatiron building was my absolute must-see in the city; since I loved the Triangle Building in Pawhuska so much and had seen it my entire life, I was very interested in seeing the most famous triangular building in the world.  It didn't disappoint.  It looks impossibly thin from many angles & the architecture had many stylistic nuances that speak to the time it was built.  Like the rest of New York, it was surrounded by dozens of other buildings that, had they been built elsewhere, would get a lot more attention.  In New York, though, architecture suffers from an embarrassment of riches.  We had lunch (at a great little burger place called Schnipper's!) and walked over to The Highline, an old elevated train track that was converted to a park a few years ago.  This was probably the least-touristy place of the day, and even though it was winter time there were sections of green grass among the dormant bushes and trees.  It was here that I realized the shoes I had brought didn't have enough arch support for the day's walking and I developed a slight limp.

We walked back to the subway and went south to Hook and Ladder 8, the fire house in TriBeCa that was used in 'Ghostbusters'.  It was pretty quiet; aside from a painted logo on the sidewalk with a ghost you might not even know its' significance.  It is still in service, but I got a few shots of the building.  My geek heart was happy!  We continued walking south, seeing the new Trade Center up close, Trinity Church (with grave markers form the 1700s!) and eventually making it to Battery Park, which is as close as I got to the Statue of Liberty.  By now, the sun was setting and we needed to head back uptown to have dinner and see the play we had tickets for:  Waiting for Godot with Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart.  Suffice to say, it exceeded my expectations.  It definitely shows that those two are close friends in real life.  Sam, who isn't a fan of Beckett's work normally, was pleasantly surprised at how the play came to life.

We boarded the train back to Brewster at 10:22.  We spent thirteen hours touring the city.  I saw many of the sights I wanted to see, and a few that surprised me.  As I mentioned earlier, the entire day was filled with the surreality that I was in this famous city after dreaming about it for so long.  I felt blessed to experience it with Sam, and we both saw some parts of New York for the first time.  It's that kind of place.  I could spend the rest of my life in NYC and never have the same day twice.

Welcome to New York

Saturday morning started very early for me.  I've turned into more of a morning person over the last few years, but getting up at 4:15 is something I can never adjust to.  It does help to look forward to the reason you're getting up so much earlier than the sun, and I had a great reason.  I was about to board a plane for New York to meet up with my girlfriend Samantha, meet her family, and spend the next eight days experiencing the country in and around The Big Apple.  Even on just four hours of sleep, I was tremendously excited!

My flights were uneventful (just the way I like it) and I arrived at the regional airport in White Plains just before noon.  Seeing Sam's smiling face was like getting a shot of adrenaline; we embraced each other for what felt like forever.  Once we got my bag sorted, we walked outside and I met Sam's mother.  She is a charming woman and it was immediately obvious where Sam's generous spirit came from.  I was welcomed with open arms as we loaded into the family van and drove out to Brewster, the small town where I would be staying.  Although the drive was only about twenty minutes long, I already had a feeling for the countryside.  Trees and water reservoirs were plentiful and the houses all had that northeast charm I'd seen in books and on television.  When we turned into the drive to Sam's grandmother's house, I was immediately in love with the place.

The house is across the road from a canal that connects several water reservoirs, nestled in a forested area.  The three-story structure sits on three acres that are also populated with several small buildings, farming implements (both for decoration and practical use), and an assortment of old trucks in various states of restoration.  Walking into the home filled me with an immediate sense of belonging.  I met Grams and Sam's four year old niece, Avery, and toured the lovingly cluttered rooms that all spoke of several generations' worth of accumulation.  Weathered furniture sat in the spaces unoccupied by family crafts, World War II memorabilia, and the living needs for a space that regularly housed six people:  Grams, Avery, Sam's brother Caleb and his wife, Uncle John, and cousin Jason.  This didn't count others, like Jason's fiance or Sam's mom, who regularly spent a significant amount of time here.  It was a house of controlled chaos.  Sam's room was at the top of the staircase, and that's where I put my bags...right next to the husk of an old .50 caliber gun.

I mentioned earlier that I felt an immediate sense of belonging.  Not only did I get hugs when I walked in, but in a grandmotherly tradition I was offered food instantly (and constantly thereafter.)  Cookies were baked, snacks were purchased...they even got pizza for lunch so that my first meal was authentic New York Style pizza.  I took a short nap and was greeted afterwards with presents and a stocking from the family.  As the evening wore on, dinner was prepared (breakfast for dinner...a choice specific to me) and I met everyone, including Sam's father.  I had been pretty nervous about this meeting, considering our backgrounds were vastly different, but it actually went rather well and we found a few things to talk about.  We ended the evening by drinking and playing dominoes, another family tradition.  I lost miserably, but that hardly mattered.

Sunday was much less busy, but I got the chance to walk around the property and see some of the artifacts up close.  It was raining, so I didn't get a lot of good pictures, but I look forward to taking my camera out later in the week.  Tomorrow will be my first day in the city proper, and I am prepared to be overwhelmed.

The Possibilities of the Future

"What is your favorite picture that you've taken?"

I was asked this recently, and it is one of those questions that I get often.  I feel differently about all of the pictures I've taken and been pleased with; it's difficult to narrow down a single photo as an absolute favorite.  It feels somehow unfair.  That being said, I do have a picture that is my favorite.  And that troubled me for a long time.

As many of you know, in January of 2011 my father passed away unexpectedly.  He had moved back to his hometown of Pawhuska, Oklahoma to care for his mother, who was in the last stages of lymphoma.  He had no will, so when I received that dreadful phone call, it fell to me to handle his estate.  For the next few months, I traveled to Pawhuska regularly to get everything taken care of.  The road I traveled was the same one that lined memories of visiting my grandparents in the summer or getting together with family for the Fourth of July.  These happy memories of my childhood were being mixed with new feelings of sadness and loss.  I took this photo one morning as I drove through Osage County, along a stretch of highway that mirrored my emotions; familiar, yet strange.  My life was moving into unknown territory, just as the fog obscured my destination.

I will never be able to replicate this picture; the time and emotional place are just as important as the physical location.  That's the reason it's my favorite.  However, until recently I felt that it limited me, which is why it troubled me.  "Surely, nothing I experience will ever match that day...so no future photograph will ever measure up."  Rather than choosing a limited view, that same understanding can open me up for greater success.  I will never take another picture like that again, but I can seek completely different images to express myself.  Acknowledging that I will not be able to replicate that image will stop me from trying...and move on.  Trying to re-create a "better" version of that picture is a waste of time and resources.


This same process is helpful in a variety of areas in life.  No two books are the same.  No two relationships are the same.  No two jobs are the same.  The longer we hold on to the feeling of, "This is what I've experienced before, and this is what I need to achieve again," the longer we rob ourselves of new and potentially greater experiences.  I encourage you to look around and see if there is anything you are trying to 'recapture' from the past; it could be limiting you from even greater heights in the future.

Hobbies

"What do you like to do in your spare time?"

It's a simple question.  When you are getting to know someone, it's one that inevitably comes up.  I was asked this question recently and found myself stumped.  My go-to answers I'd used most of my life didn't apply like they once did.  I don't read as much as I used to.  Video games don't take up hardly any of my time these days, save for the few releases that really garner my attention.  I don't even feel like I go to the movies often.  So, what is it that I actually DO?

Well, when I step back and look, I'd have to say the thing I'm most passionate about is photography.  I like to take pictures, and that's something I do.  But it's hard to really quantify that into an activity.  I'm not a part of any groups, or have any kind of tangible pattern to it; it just happens when it happens.  Sometimes I end up with a few photos I really like, other times the pictures are simply a catalog of my time.  After that, it's travel.  I love to experience new places.  Since I have an affinity for history, going to a place with some kind of significance is a bonus.  Although, when you sit and think about it, every place has a history...you may just have to dig a little more for it.  That can be fun, too.  Combining travel with my camera is even better.

So, when I'm not wandering somewhere with my camera (either local or afar)...what is it that I do?  I have my friends, for whom I am so very thankful.  I hang out with them and take part in whatever is going on with them.  But that, too, is difficult to quantify.  Sometimes it's a meal; other times it's hanging out at the park or watching a television show on Netflix.  It's rare that I have something going on independently.  So the question becomes muddy and my answer is vague.  I feel like I spend most of my free time sitting at my computer.  That's not an answer I want to give to anyone.  So, what do I WANT to be doing instead?

I don't rightly know.  I feel like being part of a community would be good for me, but I haven't found an option that sounds appealing.  I have zero interest in church or religion.  Exercise has never been a focus in my life.  I don't know much about being handy, so working on the house, car, or garden doesn't sound appealing.  I don't have any creative talent for crafts.  I don't know what I want to invest my time in.

Waffle House

Always a good idea!

Breakfast is my favorite meal, regardless of the time of day.  It's the meal I cook most often for myself and also the one I am most likely to reach out to friends for company if I have none.  Even though my tastes are pretty simple (usually a couple of scrambled eggs, some bacon, toast, and hash browns) I will never tire of it.  Brookside by Day is my favorite local spot, but my favorite chain is Waffle House.  This confounds just about everyone I know.  "Are you serious?" they either ask or plaster all over their facial expression.  They don't understand.  But it's like going home for me.

The genesis of this emotional attachment goes way back.  Breakfast is tied to Sunday mornings at home with everyone pitching in to help prepare the meal.  Even Dad made the eggs.  However, Waffle House came into the picture in the mid-nineties.  We took a road trip to Florida to go to Disney World and, at some point, we realized just about every highway exit in the South had a Waffle House nearby.  It became a game for my brother and I to spot them first and point them out to Mom and Dad.  Of course, we stopped a time or two as well.  Once I attached that bond, every dining visit strengthened it.  When I worked out at the Cingular/AT&T call center on the eastern edge of Tulsa, there was a Waffle House two miles away that I became a regular at.  In fact, I came in so frequently that the staff knew me by name and order.  When I left Tulsa to start my trip around the world back in 2009, it was the last place I ate at before hitting the road.

2009 with Reva and Virginia

I have fond memories in many WH locations in and around town.  The 61st/Aspen location in Broken Arrow held conversations with my old friend Tony Finley.  The 11th St location was a frequent stop for Indi and me when we were first dating; after they tore it down & turned it around, it became a memory cache for drunken 2 AM dinners.  The Mingo location is the one I visit most often these days, as it's closest to work.  Last time I went in, one of the waitresses asked why I had stayed away so long.

This morning, I woke early and had nothing planned.  Since nobody was awake or available, I decided to head out to Catoosa for old times sake.  It had been over a year since I was last in. It exists next to the Hard Rock Casino, a place full of terrible memories for me; my stomach still clenches as the old emotions flood my system. Happily, my two regular waitresses from back in the day still remembered me and gave me a hug.  "Where the heck have YOU been?" they asked.  I sat at the counter, ordered my regular, and enjoyed my meal.  "How've you been?" "How's work?" "You seein' anyone?"  It's like something out of a movie.  A comfortable place with food I enjoy and people I care about.  It's the most accurate version of comfort food I know.

Before the huge expansion

Route 66 (Part II)

Thursday, I went home sick from work.  Some kind of stomach bug had taken hold of me and, although I was trying to get things accomplished at the office, everyone was like, 'Dude, go home.'  So I did...and I rested.  Friday I still didn't feel great, so I stayed home.  I hate missing work, but I'm glad I didn't push myself.  I milled about the house and rested.  By the time Saturday morning arrived, I was feeling better; I was also feeling stir-crazy.  I needed to get out of the house and DO something.  So I went to breakfast.

I sat and ate my traditional bacon and egg breakfast at Brookside by Day and wondered what I was going to do with my Saturday.  It was a beautiful morning and the day was wide open.  When I finished eating, I got into the car and took off down Route 66, not really sure how far I was going to go.  I started by heading over to the Route 66 Pavilion off of Riverside, the place I stopped when I drove 66 from Miami, OK.  Heading down Southwest Blvd, I first passed the Route 66 Village.  The 'village' is a small area which consists of a restored steam engine locomotive, a few train cars, and an oil derrick nearly 200 feet tall to symbolize Tulsa's first oil strike back in 1901.

Driving farther down the road, the old highway runs right through Sapulpa.  I'm not very familiar with this suburb of Tulsa; I never find a reason to come out here.  But I did know they had a restored trolley car somewhere in town, and sure enough, right along the highway was a restored, sheltered trolley car left over from the times when rail ferried passengers to and from Tulsa.  It was a short visit, as the actual area the trolley was kept was closed, so I decided to keep driving.  As I was exiting the city limits, I saw a great old steel truss bridge; a weakness of mine.  I pulled over and explored the bridge for a few minutes, noting the old brick pavement beneath my feet.  It had been closed earlier in 2013 for safety reasons, so I had it to myself.  I wonder how long it'll be before it, too, is only a memory.

The landscape of Old 66 is peppered with towns I've heard my entire life in weather reports on the local news, and I saw many of them for the first time.  Kellyville, Bristow, Depew, Stroud, and others.  Although this stretch of highway wasn't as dynamic as it was between Miami and Tulsa, each community did their best to grab their piece of Route 66 nostalgia and make it special.  Depew, a town of less than 500 people, sat with the most deserted downtown I've seen in a long time, but still had some signage signifying their pride in the town's heritage.  Stroud is home to the Rock Cafe, a historic restaurant whose owner was an inspiration for the Pixar film 'Cars'.  Davenport's downtown is entirely brick paved and hosts many beautiful murals.  Arcadia has a famous round barn and Pops, a gas station/gift shop built around hundreds of soda flavors.

Once I realized I'd driven all the way to Oklahoma City, my focus moved to lunch.  I made a list a few months back of burgers in Oklahoma I needed to try and figured, since I'd come this far, I might as well go a little further.  An hour and a half later, I found myself at the foothills of the Wichita Mountains near Lawton, Oklahoma at a little place called Meers.  Recognized as one of the best burgers in the country, their burgers are made from Longhorn cattle raised by the same family that owns the restaurant.  They're served in a pie tin and are extremely lean; I was pleased with my meal, to be sure.  They even serve R.C. Cola in mason jars!

Satisfied with my unexpected day trip, I drove back home along I-44.  Now that I've driven the two stretches of Route 66 that extend from Tulsa, I want to keep going.  Maybe one of these days I'll make a weekend of it and go through Missouri, or perhaps back down through Texas and New Mexico.  I've been watching so much Breaking Bad lately I'd really like to explore more of Albuquerque...and I hear Santa Fe is an amazing place to visit.

Emotional Ramblings

I've been going to counseling regularly since January.  As I got closer to the second anniversary of Dad's death, I didn't feel as advanced in my grief as I felt I should be.  In addition to that, I had noticed a disturbing trend of getting close to women in dating situations, then backing away like they were on fire.  I had an emotional wall that would go up like a blast door on a space ship.  Sometimes it went up brick-by-brick, other times it appeared suddenly and fully.  I know it was frustrating for the people it affected; it was frustrating for me, to be sure.

Today I went to my appointment and felt pretty good about it.  I talked about my experiences at Dragon*Con with my friends, which were universally good.  I talked about a dinner I had with my ex-wife several weeks ago, which was a goodbye of sorts as she was moving out of state.  It was a non-event emotionally, which is progress.  I helped Mom through her back surgery, which she is recovering nicely from.  I talked about my brother's divorce, now final, and his subsequent adjustment to divorced life...which he is handling completely different than I have.  I talked about work; our software conversion is finally starting to calm down and life is getting less stressful there.  I talked about how I felt stable emotionally through all of this.

I talked about how Brewburger closed last week and how that was one of the last places Dad and I ate together and that the closing was a sad event for me.  Not crying upset, but still sad.  I talked about the march of time and how both of the last restaurants Dad and I went to were now gone and I had less and less to remember him by.  I have many things, sure, but every loss is felt because there's no replacing it with anything else.  She suggested I find a new ritual for him; something I did have control over.  That's a good idea...I'm going to have to think about what that is going to be.

I also talked about my relationship issues.  Although I have greater stability, I'm not sure how much of that is true and how much is just keeping busy.  I spent the last two days pretty much non-stop watching Breaking Bad with a friend; now that the house is empty I'm not sure how I feel about it.  My friends that went to the Con with me talk about Post-Con Depression, as do many other attendees on Facebook and other social outlets.  I haven't suffered that in the past; I am sorry that Dragon*Con has to end, sure, but I'm also happy to return to regular life.

I have the rest of this week off and will be taking another trip this weekend, this time to Guthrie to camp and see a few concerts.  I'm eager to see these bands and spend some time with a friend I haven't been able to hang with in a while.  Fun?  Yes.  Helpful to my emotional well-being?  Yes...but is it just temporary?  Will my return home be met with me looking for some other event to fill the space?  I wonder about sustainability.  I worry about the shadows returning to my mind.  The doubt, the self-loathing.  The incessant over-analysis of everything in my life.  It's been quiet for a while, but I can never believe it's gone.  It's just part of who I am.  But...I can't shake the feeling that I'm hiding from something.