On the Secret (of the) Garden

Privy Only to the Gardener.

Just last month, I was a Gardener for the very first time, when my new neighbor left town and asked me to watch over her sacred kingdom while she vacationed in Hawaii for two weeks. I accepted immediately but was plagued by images of wilting cherry tomatoes and petal-less roses, at the mercy of my green-less thumb. (I only grow "plants I can't kill" and, yes, I've killed the impossible: the cactus.) But then something changed. After just a few days, the lifeless lettuce sprung back to life, a bright red strawberry appeared, and my childhood backyard after school adventures flashed before my eyes - morning glories! And just like that, the garden and I came to a tacit understanding: I would protect it from the harsh heat-waving sun (100+ degrees those weeks) and, in return, the garden would shower me with confidence, memories, and hope for a future with 'plants I can kill.' Enjoy!

On Cutthroat Street Etiquette

And Hailing a Cab.

There's an art to securing transportation in New York City, where car ownership is rare and transit fares are a constant subject of debate. For buses and trains, good timing and marathon sprints are almost always involved, whereas with cabs it gets personal. Cabs, which cost ten times more than their alternatives, offer luxury found in little else: arm space without the infringement of runny-nosed neighbors, a cool breeze far superior to the underground air conditioning constantly recycled in the lungs of dirty strangers, and a view of the city that tourists travel great lengths to see. It's no wonder that competition is a hurdle to overcome, often in the form of frenemies who look just like our siblings-on opposing street corners attempting to outsmart the location of your hail, even though you know better and will use your elbows if you have to. In New York, what's often mistaken as an inherent bad attitude is really evolution's survival of the fittest, of which us natives have simply had more practice. And if you still don't believe us, good luck getting your own cab (back to wherever you came from). Enjoy!

On the Summertime Blues

When Beach Bums Bum You Out.

With all the temptations of the Big Apple, summertime is not always its strong suit. Sweltering subway heat, grimy beaches, and bumper-to-bumper weekend traffic can drive locals to relocate out west and summer vacations an excuse to escape. But for those who stick around, the options are limitless: picnics in the park, movies under the Brooklyn Bridge, and weekend excursions to nearby hiking trails. And before you know it, winter will be the new rage of the elevator commute and drinking beers on the Staten Island Ferry will be a place to stay warm instead of cool off. Until then, walk home for a change and treat yourself to the ice cream cone you've been eying because, hey, it's freakin' hot in New York and you might pass out if you don't. Enjoy!

On the Motorcycle Diary of a Cougar

When All You Need Isn't Love.

While the Beatles echoed the naiveties of inexperienced, first love, thrusting aside all the formulaic necessities that make romance actually work (commitment, compatibility, and trust, to name just a few), Tina Turner was asking the right question: what's love got to do with it? Once the daze of first kisses, surprise texts, and unexpected compliments wears off, the substance leftover is what love has to do with. If you're lucky, you have something to work with, and if you're not, write a song about it and move on. Enjoy!

On Bonding in Montana

During the Teenage Years.

While our relationships with the parentals can range from tender to tumultuous depending on the given moment or point in time, the teenage years are notorious for the latter. And the culpability lies not in the hands of beholders but, rather, in the hormones that runneth over, and the patience that (inevitably) wears thin. So when the calm(s) between the storms take longer than usual to retreat, these are the moments worth savoring until these years, too, shall pass. Enjoy!

On Singing Your Song

All By Your Lonesome.

Gone are the days when folks are content with time alone with their thoughts (the horror!) or loved ones (even worse!), evident in couples driven to counseling where negotiations hush the nagging blackberry (often during meals, with a clear beginning and end) and managers pass around 'cell phone bowls' to ensure employees are moderately present. But when the phones are switched to silence or temporarily (and resentfully) relinquished, the mind wanders anyway, to what's being missed or waiting urgently for a reply, even though what's actually being missed is often right there in front of their eyes, ears, and fingertips. Enjoy!

On Seduction, in the Most Unusual Places

The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants.

So, what's in a voice, anyway? Apparently, everything, at least at the beginning. Research shows that men can predict the symmetry of a woman's face (which is linked to attractiveness) just by hearing her speak. And likewise for women: a man's voice reveals both his level of attractiveness and body mass index. And the effect is trickling. Men with symmetrical faces, who are deemed 'more attractive,' appear to be more confident and secure, which are characteristics women often look for in men. Not surprisingly, Brad Pitt ranks a 9.3 out of 10 on the face symmetry scale, while his counterpart, Angelina, falls short at a mere 7.6. Despite breaking all the laws of scientific reasoning, we might conclude, then, that Brad Pitt would be a killer navigator on the cross country road, as long as we stay focused on what's important. (The directions? Yeah right.) Enjoy!

On the Perils of Visibility

And Wanting What We Can't See.

It's the allure of mystery that keeps us interested, from grade school crushes more focused on video games than love letters to the fate of the Mad Men for whom all Sunday night plans must be canceled. But when the mystery is unveiled-through tweets, chats and status updates-we're left wanting for nothing. Our intrigue is replaced by a growing need for instant gratification, and patience with insatiable greed. This is precisely why I never watch previews and my crappy cell phone has unreliable reception. It keeps the mystery real-and my relationships alive-when I can't hear or see the people with whom I'm expected to converse on a regular basis. Just leave me a message and maybe I'll call you back, if you're (un)lucky. Enjoy!

On Sibling Symmetry

From Different (Tri)Angles (& Squares).

What balances the rivalry between siblings is their impermeable bond, strengthened by their shared histories and idiosyncrasies which almost no one else (in the world) is privy to. A protector against bullies and a comrade against parental discipline, to understand the plight of the only-child is an impossible feat. This doesn't mean, of course, that torture-fests and fractured bones are not sprinkled upon the ties-that-bind, but almost always it's the assailing sibling who sticks around to pick up the broken pieces and make amends, and will do almost anything for the other. Enjoy!

On Talking to Strangers

Without Fear or Inconvenience.

Striking up a conversation with your travel neighbor-on a train, plane, or automobile-can be a risky decision, not because it's unsafe but because traveling alone is one of the few opportunities in which we are truly by ourselves, and happily so. Until, that is, we're not, and the empty seat next to us, for which we had high hopes of shoe-less travels and maybe even a catnap (who cares if we're not tired-we've got two seats, baby!), is swiped from beneath our backpack/novel/crumpledbagofchips by the devil himself. But then, luck has it that the devil turns out to be an angel in disguise and by the end of our journey, we're exchanging resumes and game boy cartridges, too grief-stricken with sadness to parts ways because we've finally found our long lost love/jobcontact/saturdaymorningcartoonfanatic we've been searching for all these years. Even so, it's a risky business and we're better off feigning sleep as the aisles crowd during pre-departure, just in case this isn't our luckiest day, after all. Enjoy!

On Everything (We Need to Know We) We Learned in Kindergarten

Including Saying Thanks.

In November 2007, a grade school friend (and City employee) forwarded me an invitation to 'Thank a Teacher' in three hundred words or less, which would then be posted on the NYC Board of Education website for all the world to see, and hopefully the teachers who were thanked. I immediately thought of Mr. Franzese, my high school history teacher, who spent tireless afternoons (after school let out) tutoring me for an exam I was sure I would fail. He's the kind of teacher for whom these facebook fan clubs are created, with passion for his job and devotion to his students you can only hope to glimpse in your own career. After my posting was submitted, I tracked down his email address on the internet (which isn't as easy as it sounds) and a few weeks later, when I finally found him, I forwarded him my Thanks. It turns out that, over the weeks that had passed, he had been approached several times (in the hallways of my high school, where he had graduated to Assistant Principal) with news of my adulation. His response was filled with the gratitude unique to a teacher and student, with details of that memorable year (eighteen years ago) and invitation to stop by if I'm ever in the neighborhood. Once a teacher, always a teacher - Thanks again, Mr. F! (Enjoy.)

On Beautiful Minds

And the Daydreams They Encompass.

It hardly seems fair that Tolstoy is the basis for experiments on daydreaming but the research appears inconclusive, and thankfully so. Traffic jams become summer vacations and business meetings resemble campfire marshmallow roasts, all the while we churn our creative juices and pass the time in far off lands. But be careful not to spend too much time in the Neighborhood of Make Believe or else you'll miss the real Prince Tuesday when he comes knockin' on your door. Enjoy!

On E.T.'s Phone Call Home

July, 1947.

If you've ever taken Astronomy for Non-Science Majors or paid the extra twenty bucks for the planetarium pit-stop amidst a long day of dinosaur skeletons and leopard panoramas, you'd likely share an appreciation of how small and meaningless our existence feels in comparison to the rest of universe, whose limitations are (literally) boundless. In an effort to pay homage where it's long overdue, make a wish on a star the next time you're out past sundown or, better yet, simply acknowledge the sky above and the potential for life on the other side. All of a sudden, the universe will become ever-so-slightly smaller. Enjoy!

On Strawberry Fields

Forever.

Happy Birthday, Ringo Starr, who (when asked in an interview last week how it felt to turn seventy) described himself as a twenty-four year-old at heart. And so it goes with birthdays-another year older on the outside but ageless on the inside. How to negotiate this discrepancy, that widens with time until it feels irreparable? With songs about skies filled with blackbirds and diamonds while (as Ringo recommends) taking one birthday at a time. Enjoy!

On Business and Pleasure

Never the Twain Shall Mix.

When romance come knockin' on our doors, it's hard to turn away no matter how bleak the forecast. But what's even rarer are the opportunities in between and, so, we convince ourselves it's better to have loved and lost and timing isn't everything. And as we leap into fires and brave impenetrable mountains, we wait with bated (or exacerbated) breath for the day in which our failures become a success, the upside being it only needs to happen once. Until then, enjoy!

On the Tweets of the Trade

A How-To Guide for Wasting Time at Work.

For those of us at a computer all day, we have no excuse: catching up on the latest break-ups, make-ups, and left-over binges (of our friends, that is) helps pass the time. This article initially struck me as a nostalgic reflection on the technological take-over which, upon reading, would simply prolong this mind-numbing time-filler (on, say, the subway ride en route to the internet gossip mill - aka Work). But the more I read, the sooner I realized this article was meant for people like me: the i-phone-less, tweet-deprived, anti-technology (blogging) cave(wo)men who are better off just giving in. But where to draw the line? On one hand, according to this article, twitter sounds like my technological soul mate! On the other, it might take years before I stop associating Foursquare(d) with anything other than an age defined by crooked teeth and bad skin. Until then, I'll get my fill in the (NY) Times Business Section for updates on gadgets that are already things of the past and imagine what'd I'd tweet had I wasted all that time and money. Gotta go check fb now; Enjoy!

On the Long Road Ahead

aka The Highway.

Windows rolled down beneath the crisp, clear sky, and your favorite oldies blasting from those mediocre speakers you'll never fix. Road trips are hard to come by these days, when replacements for the job you love to hate are no longer, and the cost of transport (let alone car insurance) is enough to keep you home on Friday nights (if only TGIF had reruns). So when the rare opportunity presents itself, grab it fast, savor the silence between states and take time to roll in the empty fields while looking up at the clouds and stars, even if it means delaying the inevitable. Enjoy.

On Different Shapes and Sizes

At the Jumbo Buffet.

Over the course of a typical family's (infinite) time-line, things happen: marriage, divorce, adoption, estrangement, birth, and scandal, to name a few. With each occurrence, the family reshapes into the new version of itself, incorporating the consequences of that moment in time. Here's a uniquely inspiring account of one family's moments, which demonstrates the human capacity to embrace and adapt to the unexpected forces that be, at its best. Enjoy!

On Coming to Fruition, Family-Style

...and we're back!

We'd all like to believe we're consequences of fairy-tale romance and that our inception was an inevitable byproduct of love at its purest. But in the real life version, it's a safe bet that mom wasn't rescued from atop a concrete tower in real bad need of a haircut, or that dad wasn't the bad-ass warrior-hero reminiscent of, say, Costner in the overly-criticized yet mesmerizing Bodyguard. Regardless of how you happened, the lessons to be learned from those who preceded you are specific to the moment and times from whence they came. Take them with a grain of salt, know you can defy them, and then sleep restfully knowing no matter how (un)romantic those initial moments might have been, romance (and life) is what you make of it. Enjoy!