alarmed envy
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s important to acknowledge, when viewing a place or person for the final time, the gravity of the moment. I don’t plan on coming back to NYC anytime soon, and by soon I possibly mean “ever.” People have asked – is it the politics? Are you leaving because of rising crime, or the unaffordable cost of living, or what? It’s all of those things, and none of those things. It’s about “Act 3” and wanting something better for Our Lady of the Pentacle and myself in our declining years.
I would mention that this is the second version of this post you’re reading. Version 1 strayed into exactly the sort of soliloquy about NYC that I’ve sworn I wouldn’t write or publish. Suffice to say that New York is a City for the young and wealthy to enjoy and that I’m neither of those things.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Speaking of not being young, all of the exertions of the move to Pittsburgh have taken a toll. Shortly after arriving in Pennsylvania after my twice back and forth 1,600 miles of driving, one contracted a wicked cold with a productive cough (not Covid), and one of the many small wounds on my hands (from carrying boxes, packing boxes, unpacking boxes etc.) has developed a sweet infection. An actual Google search I conducted this morning was “What is Pus”? This led to an interesting internet rabbit hole which included medieval medical thought and theory.
Turns out the stuff is composed of white blood cells and other immune system bits. According to the medical consensus from the days before the germ theory of disease became generally accepted – if it’s white pus, you’re probably going to be ok. Yellow, or green, or god forbid black pus, you likely want to get your self bled by a doctor and do it quick. That’s what the Google tells me, anyway. Luckily, I already unpacked the box that had the Duane Reade triple antibiotic topical goo in it.
Overall, I feel like I got into a bar fight at the moment, and have lost badly to several large and sadistic men. That’s officially the end of me whining about how tired and depleted I feel right now. It’ll be ok in a couple of days. I need a whole lot of regular sleep coupled with proper meals.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the way to Pittsburgh, one drove the Mobile Oppression Platform (my pet name for the car) through some extremely rural areas wherein fealty to a former President – you know, the orange one who tried to overthrow the Government – runs strong. I saw a hand painted sign on a decaying barn along route 28 south that read “Biden bad, he spend you earn, no socialism.” I’m not sure what these people think “socialism” means, nor where they learned basic grammar. Personally, I roll with what the dictionary says words mean, rather than what some bloke with a busted down barn which he’s doing voluntary advertising for a NYC landlord on, alongside a highway in rural Pennsylvania, thinks.
I actually blame the school system’s cowardice, in terms of discussing modern day political issues, for this era we live in. When I was in public school in the 70’s and 80’s, history officially ended at World War 2 since they didn’t want to tread into all of the “controversial Civil Rights or Cold War stuff.” You get the same thing on the other side of the political fence, with a misunderstanding or misrepresentation of the word “socialism” means in particular, but also with popular usage of “progressive” or “liberal.”
Bah!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
At any rate, back on the NYC Ferry, which is where I was before I started rambling on about how beat up I am and the weird things I’ve seen here in Pennsylvania – which I’m still working on being able to reliably spell…
My pal Val and I rode the Astoria line of the service to the Pier 11 Wall Street stop over in Lower Manhattan. We had a brief lay over while waiting for the Soundview line boat to arrive. Soundview is a great ride, heading up the west side of the East River towards 34th street, and then past Roosevelt Island where it makes a stop nearby Gracie Mansion at East 90th street. From there it proceeds north through Hells Gate to Bowery Bay and ultimately to Soundview in the Bronx, which is where the footings of the Whitestone and Throgs Neck Bridges sit.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One had timed the trip for late afternoon, hoping to catch some orange and gold light for this – my last ferry ride.
For the journey north, I deployed a long lens which allowed a 70-300 mm zoom range. It’s not my best piece of glass, this unit, but it does allow for a great deal of reach. On the way south, I had used a wider 24-105 mm zoom lens.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The hoped for light show started just as the Soundview bound ferry debarked from Pier 11, as predicted. We were heading north, and this ended up being the last time I’d be seeing or taking a photo of the Manhattan Bridge. Bwah!
More tomorrow, at your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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standard works
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
November 22nd was a busy day, and one that was full of “last times.”
My pal Val and I met up and headed over to the East River for my last ride on the NYC Ferry. As mentioned in the past, one absolutely refuses to write one of those cliché soliloquies which New Yorkers feel hell bent to offer when they finally leave NYC.
I’ve lived my whole life in this crazy place. School, career, friends and foes, love and loss – all of it happened here. For broad ranging criticisms of how the City functions, its endemic corruptions or temptations or dangers – all of that – just read through the archives linked to just to the right of this text. There’s posts in that list which span back to 2009 that will spell out my various opinions on the milieu.
Saying that, on our way to the boat, I got to grab a shot of the Real Estate people’s minions at work, demolishing yet another small business’s premises in order to make room for luxury waterfront condos.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Nobody in my world could believe it when I said that I would be moving at the end of 2022. “C’mon Mitch,” where are you going to go? What will you do? You’re “Mr. Newtown Creek!” Why Pittsburgh?
The escape plan for Our Lady of the Pentacle and myself, one we hatched during the COVID isolation months, has played out over the last 14 months or so. We started with the question “what do you want?” This allowed for the creation of a data set built around these wants, one which could be sought and pursued. That’s when the question of “who are you” and “what do you need” took primacy.
I’m a city boy – so urban, and given the stage of life Our Lady and myself are entering, pretty decent health care resources coupled with a quieter form of life that offered fewer existential dangers due to living cheek by jowl with the random madmen who howl on the other side of the wall. Pittsburgh, in the final analysis. offered the “wants, where’s, and who’s” we were looking for in “Act 3.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
First tasks involved solving a few paperwork issues on my end. An expired drivers license’s replacement was complicated by a similarly expired passport. That was January. By April, I had solved both problems. Next up, we needed to buy a vehicle, since you can’t live in “America” without a car. Research, consciously saving the cash for a down payment all year, and a couple of car rentals later – the Toyota RAV4 had risen to the top of my list, and an order was placed for a new one with the Queensboro Toyota outfit on Northern Boulevard. It wouldn’t end up arriving until the week before Halloween, due to the supply chain problems, but that fit our timeline.
In September, I began to quit jobs, and sever my ties with the various organizations that I was associated with. First one to go was Community Board 1 in Astoria, where I was the Transportation Committee Chair. For those of you interested in serving on a CB, it’s definitely worth the effort, and there is a “Jeffersonian responsibility” to participate in the mechanics of the Democracy but there’s also a whole lot of bullshit you have to put up with – mainly from your fellow board members.
I next rolled up my business with all of the non profits that I either worked with, or was on the board of, over the next two months and made arrangements for a few “goodbye” moments like the Fireboat trip mentioned a couple of weeks back.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Riding the NYC Ferry one last time was on my list of “have-to’s.” Particularly during the COVID interval, access to the ferry has been nepenthe for me. For just a few bucks, you can get out on the waters of NY Harbor for a bit, and if you time it correctly – be out there for sunrise or sunset during the flood tide when the rivers are thick with maritime traffic. Photographer paradise. Particularly this photographer.
When I told my pal Val (also a photographer) that I wanted to do this trip, she insisted on coming along for one last go.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
All year, I was telling my friends that when things got to late November, things would be moving at a thousand miles an hour. My prediction was correct. I had to work doubly hard for the five days or so leading up to the 22nd in order to buy enough time to get this day off. Boxes to pack, cupboards to be emptied. All that. I got lucky as far as weather goes.
The plan for late November and early December included spending about a week at the new address in Pittsburgh, where I’d be driving Our Lady of the Pentacle and some bare essentials out to Pittsburgh in order to set up housekeeping in the new digs. After a week or so, I’d need to drive back to Queens to handle the final stages of the move and supervise the moving crew, leaving Our Lady of the Pentacle out west in the new PA house while doing so.
After the movers left the Astoria HQ, I’d have to drive back out to Pittsburgh on my own, this time with a carload of hard drives and camera gear, which I don’t trust anyone else to handle. Thereby, in an 8 day period, I ended driving something close to 1,600 miles with all the back and forth. Post facto, this is all kind of a blur for me at this point.
This ferry day in November was, thereby, my last dance with the East River in NYC. It’s so weird saying that.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I know what’s in those blue boxes on the barge, can describe what the bottom of that tugboat’s hull looks like, and there’s also a story I can offer about each and every thing in the frame. The sort of knowledge I’ve gained in the last twenty or so years can be suffocating.
Want to hear about the time that Mose the Fireboy, the legendary giant of the 19th century “Gangs of New York” era Bowery B’hoys, wrestled a serpent out of the water here at Corlear’s Hook? How the skin of the water monster was draped over the bar mirror at McGurk’s Suicide Palace on the Lower East Side near St. Mark’s? How about the Constellation fire at the Navy Yard? The Sewer Rats gang who would paddle out to anchored ships at night to rob them at knife point? General Slocum, as in the politician whom they named the infamous excursion boat for? Boss Tweed, who lived in George Washington’s Presidential Mansion on Cherry Street in Manhattan, a few blocks back from the water?
More tomorrow…
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
split fingernails
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
November 15th also marked the last time I would be visiting DUKBO in Maspeth, an area found along the fabulous Newtown Creek’s Queens side. At the time of these photo’s captures, I thought it would be my second to last visit, but as it turns out…
I set up the tripod, and all the special camera gear and tools which I’ve mentioned to you over the years. It was nice, but there was a melancholy resonance to this, doing what was a very normal thing for me to be doing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This post is being written on Monday the 12th of December, while sitting in my favorite Irish bar in Astoria – also for the last time. By the time you’ve received it, I’ll solidly be living in Pittsburgh.
There’s a pint of Guinness on my right hand, and the iPad is glowing in front of me. This is not an unfamiliar image to my bartender. I’ve always loved sitting down in a bar by myself and doing some writing. Also, since there is no wifi in my old apartment right now as I’ve returned the equipment to the cable people, my only connection other than a cell phone is here… in fact, the movers have just come this morning, and took all my stuff with them to Pittsburgh – so beyond the wifi the apartment is empty – there’s just an inflatable bed and a couple of knapsacks in my crib. I’m leaving in the morning, on Tuesday the 13th. An all day drive awaits.
One has been living out a suitcase for a couple of weeks now, surviving on high fat and overly caloric foods. A regular sleeping schedule is something I can only hope for, right now. It hasn’t been uncommon for me to fall dead asleep as early as 9 p.m. in the last couple of weeks, out of sheer exhaustion.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One way or the other, the part of my life that includes DUPBO, DUGABO, or DUKBO is all over by the time you’re reading this. Hopefully, I’m unpacking on the other side with Our Lady of the Pentacle and can resume some sort of normal life in a day or two before the madness resumes, around a different set of subjects.
Goodbye, DUKBO.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
revenant mother
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
November 15th found Alternate Side Parking regulations working against a humble narrator’s happiness again, and the Mobile Oppression Platform – as I’ve nicknamed my car – needed to be somewhere other than where it was. Thereby, one planned out yet another trash run, heading full bore at both the paper recycling guy, and the metals and electronics guy. One deleted roughly a third of all his material possessions during the ramp up to moving.
Since I was already out and about and at Newtown Creek… why not?Every time might be the last time, after all.
First up was DUPBO. Down Under the Pulaski Bridge Onramp. That’s the Vernon Avenue street end. Not Boulevard, mind you. This street end is a one block avenue.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One navigated the ‘MOP’ or “Mobile Oppression Platform” about, shooting out the window of the vehicle with my zoom lens like some common paparazzi. Free time like the interval experienced on this particular day became increasingly rare for a humble narrator right around this part of November.
The big move to Pittsburgh loomed. Suddenly, an avalanche of “have to’s” erupted and all my attentions were drawn to the exigent circumstances thereby presented.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Every time might be the last time, as I’ve been saying, and you know what? As it turns out, this was pretty much the last time for DUPBO, and for visiting First Calvary Cemetery in Queens’ Blissville section.
I’m totally faklempt about this fact. More tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
tradewinds sweep
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
November 13th. My pal Meg Black, from Working Harbor Committee plotzed back at the start of the year. She was cremated, and another Pal – Barbara – had held onto her ashes until an appropriate moment arrived to dispose of them. Meg’s family, on the 13th, was onboard the John J Harvey Fireboat along with us – the Working Harbor Committee. Captain Huntley Gil navigated the 1931 Fireboat down the Hudson River from its home at Pier 66 to the Statue of Liberty.
This is the last time for me, riding on board the Harvey. It was Meg’s last time, too.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Meg Black is one of the most enigmatic people I’ve ever met. Her last name describes her sense of humor, and she was one of the prime components of the Working Harbor Committee. Tireless is how she’d want me to describe her, but Meg often groaned and creeped under the burdens of her central role in the organization. She always delivered.
Another one of my little mottos is “do what you say, say what you do.” That’s could describe her, my contentious friend Meg. In the picture above, that’s a member of her family – a niece, I believe – letting her loose on New York Harbor.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This is where the ashes were scattered.
Goodbye, old friend.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 