On Barber Shop Blues

Stranded Without a Scissor.

When our daily rituals are abruptly stripped from our routine, we're left paddle-less in a sinking canoe. The perfectly sweetened coffee by our guy on the corner (who's nowhere to be found) makes the forced alternative (Starbucks) taste like sour vinegar. The rerun of The Office, with the promising but repetitive comic relief of Michael Scott (That's What She Said) pales in comparison to the vibrant, unexpected sing-alongs (Madonna! Lady Gaga! Journey!) of the Glee club (who are on hiatus for Christmas vacation). And the barber/dentist/psychic who relocated (to the next street/town/planet) are as Irreplaceable as Beyonce's replacement. Enjoy!

On Roadside Manners

The Necessity of Pooper Scoopers.

On a fall day in 1985 during a walk through Park Slope (Brooklyn) in which the pavement was covered with a myriad of colorless, crispy leaves screaming for five-year-old children (like myself and my childhood best friend) to repeatedly stomp them to dust, we met the challenge with great anticipation for the consistent accompanying crunch. Until, that is, the crunch sound went silent. And with the confusion of the anomalous, noiseless autumn discard, my rose-petal pink tights were covered with brown splotches - the remnants of an irresponsible, manner-less dog walker whose laziness ruined an otherwise perfect afternoon. And, so, I second this writer's emotion and ask for the dog-walkers of today to respect thy neighbor, avoid the (tacit) fines, and give the five-years-old the fun in the sun they deserve. Enjoy!

On Moments that Make Us Grateful

For Better or Worse.

In the rare and most unfortunate moments when we're actually face-to-face with the worst case scenario, the light at the end of the tunnel is anything but illuminating. But that's life-in-a-nutshell and (most of the time) this too shall pass, with the strength, love, and resilience unimaginable until that moment. Enjoy!

On Mushrooming Ailments

Outside the Periphery.

A gross oversimplification of the human population might categorize folks into two groups: the risk-takers and everyone else. If you fall into the former, you'll likely spend your 29th birthday (not 30th) skydiving over snow-capped mountains, your backpacking trip through Europe on motorcycle instead of foot, and walking through the gutters of New York City without mere acknowledgment for oncoming traffic. For the rest of us, skydiving and motorcycles coincide with midlife crises and prozac, and looking both ways is second nature whether we're crossing the street or using the water cooler. And in between our (non) adventures, we learn from the risk-takers how to grasp the occasional adrenaline rush while simultaneously escaping death with the calculated precision of 'everyone else.' Enjoy!

On Notes in the Column

“Called here for girl.”

1910 Report Cards: Clues to the past blanket the antiquated index cards, from the handwriting that best articulated the students' social virtues to the photos that resemble mugshots ridden with grade school insecurity. And who these women would one day become-confident activists/mothers/lovers-existed merely as nascent soulfulness about whom notes were scribbled in the column. Enjoy!

On the Loss of Privacy

An Unsanitary Sanctuary.

For the people-watchers and eavesdroppers alike (incl myself), there is one obvious upside to the technological boom: other people's conversations. The number of submissions worthy of overheard.com has skyrocketed, and walking to the corner store for a carton of milk, a loaf of a bread, and a stick of butter is even more informative than the impossible but fantastical fantasy of being a fly on someone else's wall. Enjoy!

On Wishin' and Hopin'

And Thinkin' and Prayin'

Although we may deserve love, life, and the pursuit of happiness, We Can't Always Get What We Want when and how we want them, but that doesn't mean we won't cross their paths. This just means we should Be Careful What We Wish For because pennies thrown into dilapidated fountains and wishes made on the occasional urban star just might, like the infrequent fairytale, come true, and then we're stuck with the consequences. Enjoy!

On Oil and Vinegar

(Marriage and Religion.)

When my mother walked my five-year-old self into the synagogue and asked if I wanted to stay for the next seven years, the mass of nameless kindergarten-age faces was enough to send any pre-elementary-school-age child in the direction of Sunday morning cartoons and barbie-doll orientated play dates. And in spite of my ill-informed decision to choose the familiar over the strange, the fate of my own unborn children has yet to be determined. Chances are, it will consist of Christmas trees, Hanukah prayers and a whole lot of Thanks(giving) for having the freedom to decide. Enjoy!

On Muses of the Past

The Local Library.

I spent the majority of my elementary school years writing reports on two topics: George Washington and the Dominican Republic. By fifth grade, the tracing paper was an insult to my flag-replicating skills, and I knew the exact shelf (in the back, on the right-hand side in the Children's Sections) of the 9th Street Public Library (see photo to the right) on which the usual, dusty DR books awaited my annual check-out. Today, I imagine those books still sit, dustier than ever, since most children have abandoned the back, right-hand side (perhaps rightfully so) for google/bing/kindles and the chance to learn twice as much, twice as fast. How lucky and unlucky they are, without even realizing the double edge of the (electronic) sword with which they trace their own flags today. Enjoy!

On Human Decay

Embracing the Inevitable.

An entire beauty industry has preyed on our fear of the inevitable: the aging process. What if, instead of worrying about the wrinkles that can't be stopped or the gray hairs that pepper our youthful brown/gold/blond locks, we embrace these changes as a sign of wisdom and experience instead of despair and regret? The long life still ahead of us would most definitely be more pleasurable and, chances are, the aging process might even be slowed down a bit. Difficult, I know, but words of wisdom far superior to the alternative. Enjoy!

On Maslow's (Insulting) Hierarchy of Needs

Another Longitudinal Hierarchy Gone Wrong.

While there is ample scientific evidence to support the intrinsic causes of human motivation, we pride ourselves on our individuality and the subsequent unique paths we carve out for ourselves. So when psychologists start spouting theories about - brace yourselves - the ultimate human desire to procreate, it's not surprising that folks have something to say about it. Still, there's also evidence about thinking before speaking and, so, a word to the wise to hear out both sides of the debate before casting yourself aside as a Maslow outcast. Enjoy!

On New Joisey

A Rivalry that Predates Reason.

Leave it to Jersey to get bent out of shape over a nickname that isn't even Dirty Jerz. We let your origin-of-childhood white lies slip by since, hey, anyone north/south/east/west of here probably can't tell the difference, even though we know the truth: You Are Not From New York City. And when Tony Soprano gave Sunday night a new sense of hope, we refused to fast forward through the opening credits because deep down inside us, we felt a budding respect for the New Jersey Turnpike. And, if given an opportunity, we'd gladly exchange a day at Brooklyn's enticing yet dingy Coney Island for a once-in-a-summer chance to lay out on the clean, well-kept Jersey Shore. So cut us some slack, read your history book (or this article), and know it ain't personal. Enjoy!

On Being Impolite

NYC Subway Etiquette 101.

One would think it's an unspoken rule that subway comradery is a misdemeanor since, as most New Yorkers can relate, transit commuters tend to err on the side of straight-up-rude. During rush hour, Grand and Canal (Street) stops are notorious for riot-like bombardments during which patrons hoping to exit the car risk the possibility of missing their stop. When seats actually are available, the joyous feeling of having won something unexpected (synonymous with winning five cents on a scratch-n-sniff) is quickly dissipated by the realization that hours-old droplets of an inconsiderate coffee drinker have tainted the well-deserved (and much-needed) prize. Pregnant women? Don't get your hopes up. Feeling sick? I dread the day. And yet we suck it up because payback's a biatch and it sure beats the Wheels on the Bus. Enjoy!

On the Hardships of Romance

Move In or Move On?

Rumor has it, the longer the relationship, the harder it gets. And it's not easy kicking the fear for the uncertain future, whether the happy couple can weather the storm or crumble beneath the unpredictable yet inevitable consequences of life. But we take our chances because for each lost opportunity, another is found, and until we rise to the occasion, we can never be completely sure what we're made of. Enjoy!

On Life-Saving Life Savers

And Sugar-Coating Heartache.

When the going gets tough, a good distraction is always welcome, even if it's in the form of brightly-colored, translucent, rock-hard, sucking candies. The rainbow reminds us that life exists on the other side, in spite of the shattered walls around us that mimic the cavity-inducing, guilt-invoking crunch between our teeth. And like the melting mnm/sourpatch/gobstopper, the pain, too, will dissipate over time until the next trip to the candy store where the options seem limitless and the choice gets harder to make. Enjoy!

On (Un)complicated Explanations

The chief virtue that language can have is clearness, and nothing detracts from it so much as the use of unfamiliar words.(Hippocrates)

It is true that children grasp the world around them with more attention to detail than their adult counterparts and, so, we must choose our words wisely when filling in their curious gaps about the past, present, and future. And if we stumble, they forgive as easily as they (don't) forget, which simply means there's room for trial, error, and our own creative lens through which to take in (their) world around us, too. Enjoy!

On Taking Things for Granted

In New York City.

Like most New Yorkers, I take the City for granted - until recently. During a trip out west, I found myself (at moments) craving crowds and unkempt public transportation, where seats are hard to come by and patrons are seemingly insincere. As I walked the quiet, downtown, urban sprawl, I wondered if it's true what they say - You Can Take The Girl Out Of Brookyn, Buuuut - and, for the first time in my life, made sense of the generations of New Yorkers who vacation around the world but always (always) come back home. And now I'm back, perhaps indefinitely and (as life happens) perhaps not, with a new appreciation for muffled subway sound systems and the glare in my neighbor's eye, as I work hard to embrace the possibility of life without. Enjoy!

On Laughter Being the Best Medicine

Even Better Than Yoga (Well, Kinda.)

Your day will guarantee to brighten if you go on youtube and search for the 'Best Baby Laugh Ever.' And there's actual scientific evidence: aside from laughter being contagious, your attitude is destined to respond positively. So the next time you're feeling down, go to the closest internet cafe, ignore the looks and stares of the gloomy passerby-ers, get your youtube on, and turn that frown upside down. Enjoy!

On the Small Pleasures in Life

Different Strokes for Different Folks.

While I'd like to believe I would escape this guy's antics unscathed, that'd be as foolish as convincing myself that I've outgrown, say, Captain Crunch. And yet his diligence and craftiness is admirable and, if given the opportunity, I'd watch with a mixture of empathy, relief, and my usual astonishment at people's inability to stay cool. Enjoy!

On Showing Respect

When Resources are Scarce.

Hand-picking school supplies during the first week back to school takes precision and thought, especially since the consequences are seemingly vast: the 90210, neon-colored folders and bright pink/green/yellow quadratic, pencil-top erasers are filled with more promise than the actual school year is capable of. (Note: Graduate school is no exception.) Back in the day (aka b.2k.), these supplies included the required schoolbook jacket cover, to protect the property de l'école from accidentally greasy fingers, unpredictable pets, and sudden onset of [insert ailment]. Coupled with the excitement of knowing (first, second or fifth-hand) a previous owner whose name was inscribed on the inside cover (That used to be my sister's book! Ain't life is Grand?), for some folks this was the highlight of their year. Until, of course, it came time to put those books to use, at which point the newness of the school year was instantaneously replaced by the dread of antiquated mathematical formulas and unending narratives about waxing and waning moons, wars that changed lives, and fictional tales of Crime and Punishment. Enjoy!