Tuesday, November 21, 2006

New York, New York

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it - New York, New York
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York

I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
And find I’m king of the hill - top of the heap

These little town blues, are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it - in old New York
If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you - New York, New York...

Well, at least for a few days.

This weary old blog, is needing a rest
While I chow down gravy and stuffing
Yams and cranberries, and turkey breast
If I can eat it here, I can eat it anywhere - New York, New York

I wanna sip joe in a downtown corner Starbucks cafe
Gawk at the people and lights uptown at 7th Ave. and Broadway

I’ll walk Prospect Park, sing karaoke at night
I’ll pretend I’m part of it – New York, New York
And when I’ve done my share, I’ll say goodbye to there
And come back to you - Upstate New York

Have a good week, and be well and thankful.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Blogging: Take 2

I just took the plunge into the new version of blogger.com, and a quick look tells me I have some work to do. We wizards like our stuff to be noteworthy, but it also should look good...

Making the switch from a comfortable, predictable (if sometimes ornery) platform to something called "Beta" is difficult for those of us who have lived through Dubbya, Nixon AND Santa Claus. We just don't trust. They should have at least called it "Nadine" or "Peggy Sue"- names that harken back to the days when our country was generally more right and we yearned for (and trusted) the way of the future.

'Good thing I'm a wizard.

Our Children’s Children

Today my husband and my four-year-old grandson built an elaborate tower of blocks. Their building was many stories tall, and on it they perched hard rubber farm “amals,” matchbox cars and a couple of old Fisher-Price Little People. It was an impressive structure and they delighted in its construction.

After completing it, my grandson picked up one of his small, metal, toy airplanes and “flew” it into the building, knocking blocks, amals, cars and people asunder. He laughed with childish pleasure at the destruction, obviously thinking it was a pretty good joke on Grandpa (and that they could now repeat the shared enjoyment of creation).

Stunned, I asked him if he thought that airplanes ever really fly into buildings. “Yes,” he said, “in New York City.”

So many of us once thought we could make the world a better place. So many magnanimous speeches contain the words, “so that our children’s children may have...” I am now one of those who knows a child’s child, and this is his milieu: a world where hatred and mass murder (although not yet understood for that) has become the play of pre-school children.