Day Three - Woodland Creatures of the Night

Ward Acres is the place to be. Sixty-three acres of woodland bliss put us in the mood for exploring nature. Lisa and I had a lovely walk right here in New Rochelle. It was serene and the company was great. We were taking pictures and a large golden retriever came across our path to check out our scent. I guess we were approved.
Lisa and I came across this really creepy old house in the middle of the forest. Lisa suggested that they film a horror movie there and I got the creeps. But I video taped it anyway! Here's a short clip.

Later on Allie told us that's where they put on the Halloween haunted house every year. Duh.

Here are some more Ward Acre discoveries:

Here's a pic we tried to take of ourselves by ourselves; this is to ensure any blog readers that Lisa & I did not take two separate hikes.

Earlier that day, we had to drive to our destination in order to hike (oh, the irony) so Lisa did the driving since I am still a permit holder at the time of this blogging.

We stopped for gas - and being a Jersey Girl in New York, Lisa had to get out of the car and - gulp - manually pump that gas!

Later on in the evening we went out to The Plumm, which is the old classier Nell's, once owned by Nell of Rocky Horror Picture Show fame. But now it's your run-of-the-mill New York I Love the Nightlife club where the bouncers make everyone wait in line to make it look like a place that's worth getting into. Then they sell you $300 bottles of middle-shelf alcohol that you could have purchased at the liquor store down the street for $250 cheaper so you can be served by a girl with platnum blond extensions.

Nell was classier. Just look at her!

But the real reason why we went to The Plumm was because Rit and Jon were promoting their website, TheCheapPop.com, which is an awesome website of pop culture and mustache musings (you must experience the site to feel the action!). The Cheap Pop is sort of like a cross between TMZ, Spiderman doing an HBO comedy special, and Burt Reynolds.

I feel that the evening can be summed up in a few personal pictures.

Day Two - The Experiment

Quite a few things happened today during my adventures with Lisa. So instead of writing a long, drawn out blog, I've decided to keep it short and simple with a list:

1. Mysterious clicking drives us mad
2. Ginormous egg burrito
3. Chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake
3. Getting lost in Yonkers & Tuckahoe
4. Accidentally finding New Rochelle
5. More clicking
6. Discovering a shoe cobbler in spitting distance of I95
7. Softball spanking
8. Experimenting with liquids
9. Beer pong bonanza
10. Never, ever rip off the cardboard of a disposable camera.

And now for some pictures.

Lisa tries it both ways:


Shira tries cocaine:


Experimenting with Windex:


A good day had by Lisa & Shira:


This is as good as it gets:

Day One.

Lisa's up for the weekend, and that can only mean one thing:



Shopping for fresh veggies and indulging on rich Indian fare, of course.

Prepare.

The waning moon leads us into the mystery.
The unknown X
Coming to the close of a cycle,
we prepare ourselves for a new chapter
in the book of life.
This time for banishing
Cleanse
Prepare
Soon we will look inward at the new moon's rise - in the low, calm tide I may see my reflection.
Soon to scrye
Prepare.

Local Legend, or, Move Over Jersey Devil, a Snow Angel is Overlooking the Pine Barrens (and Camden)!

Last month was my mother’s unveiling. In case you don’t know, an unveiling is a Jewish tradition in which the family of the recently departed unveils the headstone for the first time. It happens about 11 months after the date of death.

There were only a handful of us at the cemetery as my mom’s close cousins had wanted. The Rabbi spoke a few words for my father, my cousins spoke, and I spoke. I told everyone about this dream I had about Mommy:

It was a cold winter day. Within the house where I grew up, there was a classroom filled with children, as though my childhood home had been transformed into an old fashioned schoolhouse. The children were so happy, and they were laughing – it was the sound of the most joyful, youthful glee I’d ever heard. Mommy was teaching them a lesson, and they were all attentive and smiling. Then Mommy told the kids to look out from the window while she went outside. She put on her coat and hat – a beautiful, fluffy white fur with unique black spots and a matching hat [I later learned that this particular kind of fur was considered a mark of royalty] and ran outside into the snow. The kids ran up to the window to watch Mommy drop down and move her arms and legs back and forth, making a shape of an angel in the snow.

I felt a great comfort in this dream, feeling that – wherever my mom is now – she is taking care of and teaching children and making them smile.

After I spoke, Allie and I removed the thin gauze covering the new family headstone as well as my mom’s stone marker. After the ceremony, my mom’s best friend Linda, with whom she taught at Davis Elementary school for almost 18 years, told me an interesting story that stuck with me.

“Sh ira, I wasn’t originally going to tell you about this because I didn’t know how you would feel about it. But after you spoke I figured I would tell you.”

Linda had awakened my curiosity. I waited for the rest.

“There is a fairly new night matron working at Davis. She never met your mother. She was upstairs on the third floor [where my mom’s classroom was] and saw a woman walking around upstairs. She told her that she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“The night matron went downstairs and told the manager that there was a woman upstairs, and that no one is supposed to be there. ‘Who’s upstairs? What does she look like?’ asked the manager.

Linda then told me that the night matron described my mother to a tee, down to height and hair color. “And then she saw a picture of your mother on the wall and pointed to it. ‘That’s her,’ the night matron said, ‘that’s the woman I saw upstairs.’”

Apparently the new night matron of Davis Elementary School in Camden, NJ saw an apparition of my mother, who had passed months earlier.

Whatever you believe, I like to think that my mom left some of her good and protective energy behind for the kids of Davis school. One thing is certain: my mother and I both liked to watch that TV show Medium about the psychic who works for the fictional district attorney of Phoenix, AZ. I’m no Alison DuBois, but call the editors at Weird NJ magazine – this is one for the books!

In Loving Memory of Cheryl S. Goodman

It was a year ago today that my mother left the world of the living. I miss her so much. I called my father today and he sounds pretty depressed, understandably.

I want to create a scholarship in my mother's name for low-income college-enrolled students who hail from Camden City, New Jersey. I had strongly considered Temple's College of Education, since they have an urban education component to their studies. My mother, Cheryl Stern Goodman, was a '66 Temple alumnus (I believe it was 1966). She passed away June 2, 2006. I am planning to commemorate my mother's life and 40-year education career through helping other future teachers. My mother grew up in Philadelphia, attended Girls' High, taught in the City of Philadelphia and then later in Camden City, NJ. She was an accomplished elementary school teacher dedicated to her students and to urban education.

But while Temple University's College of Education is an outstanding school and a seemingly perfect fit for a scholarship in which to honor the memory of my mother, I was discouraged by the high out-of-state tuition (almost $18,000 per semester, as opposed to just under $10,000 for PA residents). We are unsure how much of an impact a meager $1,200 scholarship (interest from a $25,000 endowment, which is my initial fundraising goal) would make for a low-income student who hails from Camden, NJ.

Upon consideration of the high out-of-state tuition, I am more inclined to keep a scholarship local in the Camden City/County area. While I personally feel that Temple is by far one of the best colleges in which a student can immerse her/himself in urban education studies, the importance of a disadvantaged student getting a college degree - any college degree - far outweighs the importance of choosing a specific major.

In my heart, I would prefer to create a scholarship specific to education, so I am still on the hunt for a local (New Jersey) school that might at least partially satisfy this requirement. However, we may be willing to choose a school that does not offer a major with an urban or childhood education component, in order that we may give a qualified low-income student from Camden City, NJ a chance at higher education.

Cell Phones and the Demise of Western Civilization

I remember the good old days when you could easily pick out the crazy people when they talked to themselves. You knew how and when to steer clear of them as they approached when they would say things like, "Just kill it. Just KILL IT!," and "The captain said pull back. Captain. I'm the Captain. Hi ho hi ho!"

But it's hard to pick out the crazies when you can't tell whether or not they're talking to themselves or just have a hands-free phone wedged in their ear canal.

One day in the mid 90's I was walking around the East Village, traditionally a place for starving artists and eclectic bohemians, I saw a guy in a button-down Oxford chambray blue shirt talking to himself. Even though he looked like a stuffy wall street guy, I thought, at least he's talking to himself. That would make him quirky and odd, and therefore, fit in perfectly with the colorful fabric of the diverse East Village.

But then I spotted it. There was a phone. A tiny phone. A tiny cordless phone that he was holding with the hand I couldn't see. Damn it! That guy is talking on a cell phone! I then understood that it was the end of the East Village as we knew it.

St. Marks, a street in the Village known for grimy tattoo and body piercing parlors, rubber and mesh fettish-wear at the famed Trash and Vaudeville, and stores selling second-hand music and manic panic hair color, used to be a haven for punkers, artists and wayward kids who debate their sexual preference. But soon after that cell phone incident, I began noticing some unnerving changes. Cropping up alongside the famous Sock Man (yes, he sells socks) who's been there for years and hole-in-the-wall Yaffa Cafe, who makes a darn good soy burger, settled a re-invented GAP (they were the last GAP in the city to update the 70's facade) and now a Chipotle Grill, a chain that sells southwestern-themed food off a behind-the-scenes conveyer belt and is formerly owned by the golden arch gods themselves, McDonalds.

I contest that the cell phone revolution has captured individuality and is holding taste hostage. I thought the East Village would have been the last place to lose all sense of raw creativity and expressive humanity. Hold on - is that my phone ringing?