Discovering Eleanor Roosevelt at Val-Kill

"You must do the thing you think you can not do."  

"Do one thing every day that scares you."

~Eleanor Roosevelt~

Standing inches behind Eleanor Roosevelt's chair -  her "favorite chair" -  according to the tour guide, I wished to turn back time.  I wanted to sit in the opposite chair, in this simply decorated cottage, and share a  cup of tea with a woman I admire, yet know so little about. . beyond the historical.

Val-Kill was Eleanor's home for seventeen years after her husband and the country's 32nd president, Franklin Roosevelt, died. It had been a retreat for her in previous years, only two miles from Springwood, the family's main Hyde Park, New York home.

The unassuming stucco building, set among comforting trees and the stillness of pond waters, was the only home Eleanor ever personally owned.

What did she think about on a quiet evening as she sat looking out the windows?  What "one thing" had "scared" her that day, but she had done anyway?  What were the "thing(s)" she thought she could not do?

How did she become the person she was?

I've read biographical accounts of her upbringing, marriage to Franklin and his infidelity, their five children, her increased involvement in politics and societal issues following his contraction of polio, her  tireless travels and activities during World World II, her advocacy of civil rights, women's rights, and rights for all, as she chaired the United Nations' committee that drafted and approved the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

She was respected worldwide, and named as one of the top ten Most Widely Admired People of the 20th Century by Gallup in 1999. World leaders and future leaders, such as John Kennedy, knocked on her cottage door for inspiration, endorsement, for the pleasure of her company.

I can admire her for obvious reasons, but my trip to Val-Kill expanded my curiosity about the woman whose impressive resumé provides few clues to her inner journey.  Unable to share that cup of tea with her, I must find other sources for learning what she can teach me.

Stopping at the gift shop on my way out, I asked a staff member for her recommendations of a book on Eleanor.  "The best way to learn more about her is through her own writing," she said.  "I suggest her autobiography," and she pointed to a paperback simply titled, The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt.

I take a sip of tea and open to the first page.

(Val-Kill, the only National Historic Site dedicated to a First Lady, and the Franklin D. Roosevelt Home, Library and Museum are located in Hyde Park, New York.  Take Metro North from Grand Central Station in NYC to Poughkeepsie Station, then a National Park Service shuttle to the park. The trip takes approximately 1 1/2 hours one way.)


 

  

Vote For George!

So you never thought you'd have the opportunity to vote for George Washington?  Just a mere 223 years too late?  Now is your chance!

Thanks to 2012 Partners in Preservation Initiative in New York City, you can vote to restore the life-size  statue of George Washington and the entrance to Federal Hall.  Washington was inaugurated in the original Federal Hall building which stood on the site, now 26 Wall Street in Lower Manhattan.  The current structure serves as a memorial and museum to our country's first president.

Washington is taking this campaign seriously.  He is not to be outdone by the thirty-nine other contenders for the Preservation funds. Last weekend when I rounded the corner to Federal Hall, I was met by his personal fife and drum corps (click for video), stirring up support from the crowd assembled at the base of his statue.  National Park rangers were handing out flyers, "VOTE FOR GEORGE!"

Even John and Abigail Adams were meeting and greeting curious onlookers.  As Abigail handed me a flyer, she said, "I've been trying to convince John to support the vote for women."

President Washington is up against stiff competition, all deserving of the Partners in Preservation's three million dollars. The four projects which receive the most public votes between April 26- May 21, 2012 will have their grants fully funded.  The remainder of the money will be allocated to other sites after a review by American Express, the National Trust for Historic Preservation and an advisory committee from New York City.

Perhaps you have your own personal favorite. . . . The New York Botanical Garden, Apollo Theater, Lower East Side Tenement Museum, Coney Island B & B Carousel or one of the other historic sites, all available for you to peruse at The Partners in Preservation website.  

You don't even have to live in New York City.  You can vote from any part of the United States or overseas, once a day until May 21st.  Directions on the website are listed in four easy steps.

Which historic site will gather the most votes? As of today, the Brooklyn Public Library's Central Library is leading.  A worthy institution to be sure!  So many choices and only a week left to let your votes count.  Undecided?

My latest Downtown Magazine article, "The Anne Frank Center Opens in Lower Manhattan: 'Building a World Based on Mutual Respect'"  is now online.  I invite you to check it out.

Tribeca Family Festival

"New York City has tons of street fairs, but this is the best!" I overheard one man say to another as he maneuvered a stroller through the crowd. Since this was my first street fair, I didn't have anything to compare it to, but I was already having a great time!  Within five minutes of entering Greenwich Street, I had been given a free bag of pretzels and package of hummus, a free Tribeca Family Festival tote bag and  seen a quartet of very tall, mysterious ladies draped in black, writhing like snakes atop matching black pedestals.  Could it get any better than this?

I made my way down the street, open only to pedestrians, except for Spiderman who flew in

by web,

and Dot the Firedog who entered on her vintage firetruck.

By the time I had finished my hummus, bought T-shirts for grandchildren, and debated about a "Manicure in Minutes," I arrived at my ultimate destination. . .

       Booth 19, 

Léman Manhattan Preparatory School.

With two campuses located in the Financial District, it is a private, independent school for students from all over the NYC area.

My husband Drew, Léman's Headmaster, was in front of the booth eagerly meeting and greeting.

Léman students performed for passersby.

 

The Léman Bull practiced his poses.

                                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                           

And the Léman logo flourished as never before.  

(on Brylee Maxfield, Communications Manager)

Leaving the Léman booth, headed towards home, I had walked only a block when a friendly guy with a huge baseball head waved to me.

Then the Sabra hummus guy handed me three more packages of hummus.  Could it get any better than this?  I doubt it!

Finding My Way to Poetry

I was running late for my New York Cares volunteer commitment.  I needed to get to 1372 Broadway in the Fashion District but kept getting conflicting directions -- first from the hot dog guy on Times Square ("You're not anywheres close; take a right and keep walking.") to the newspaper/magazine guy ("Easy, take a left and keep walking.") Finally, with reliable directions from the hostess at Ruby Tuesday, who consulted her phone (why didn't I think of that?), I arrived at my destination.  The activity had been cancelled.

What to do?  Plan B - the library!  According to my phone (I'm a fast learner), it was an 8-minute walk to the "main branch" at 42nd and Fifth Avenue.  After heading the wrong direction for a couple of blocks, then turning my phone and myself around, I was there in 15.

It couldn't have been a more beautiful day to get lost (or temporarily off-track) in midtown Manhattan.

The library was awash in sunshine, 

with people occupying every available step in front, and sprawling on the Bryant Park lawn  behind.
 

The Children's Center's banner was the only invitation I needed to check out some children's books. . .  poetry books.

 

  
My pockets were completely empty of poems. Time to find just the right one!

In the 811 section under Waldo, Maisy and Arthur, 

I sat in a chair which Goldilocks would have described as "just right," and perused the shelves.  From listening to way too many Mother Goose rhymes when I was growing up, my ears prefer children's poems that rhyme; poems that make me laugh first and think later.  As a second-grade teacher, I found the children's all-time favorite poets were Dr. Seuss,  Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky.  I added J. Patrick Lewis to that list, and both students and teacher could be found chuckling and reveling in the joy of words all day!

Mmmmm. . .what to pick for my pocket.  Which poem should I choose to copy and carry around with me for the rest of the month, in case an inquisitive child should ask, "Do you have a poem in your pocket?'

To select just the right one would take some thought, and I needed food for those thoughts.  I remembered seeing an ice cream truck parked outside.

     

      Time to start reading. . .

      then find my way home.

Jewish Hasidic Walking Tour in Brooklyn

Friends, thankfully, lead us in directions we might not go on our own.  When my friend, Marian, suggested a Jewish Hasidic Walking Tour in Brooklyn, I said, "Sure," barely familiar with the term Hasidic, but intrigued to learn more.  She had discovered the tour after watching a TV segment of Oprah's visit with Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn.  My own experience was limited, primarily, to seeing Hasidic Jewish men walking New York streets dressed in dark, loose-fitting suits, black hats with large crowns, often bearded, often with side curls.

On the morning of the tour, we met Rabbi Beryl Epstein at the Crown Heights Rabbinical Study Hall and Rebbe's Library, a half block from the Kingston subway stop.  "I've been leading these tours since 1982," he explained. "It's a way to help people outside the Hasidic community to better understand it."
Two other people joined the group, both Jewish.  Marian and I added a Catholic and Episcopalian flavor to the tour; we just hoped the rabbi didn't call on us to answer any Jewish questions.

Our first stop was a few doors down in a skinny-looking building with a skinnier staircase. With a refreshing sense of humor, the rabbi joked,  "Hold on to the banister. "I haven't lost anyone yet."  Comforted, but not totally reassured, I didn't look down as the stairs curved upwards to a landing, then into a room filled with Torahs and a scribe.

Rabbi Beryl Epstein

 "This is one of the few places in the world where Torahs can be repaired," the rabbi explained.  As he detailed the process, I picked up a hollow quill, the tip blackened with ink, and tried to imagine the patience and precision necessary to hand write each character, perfectly.

One floor down, three men sat at desks intently crafting Tefillin, black leather boxes containing Torah verses written on parchment.  "Men wear them on their foreheads and arms during weekday morning prayers," said Epstein, as we wandered from one to the next observing the intricate steps.

                                 

folding the parchments and inserting them in a Tefillah

attaching the strap

sanding it down

                                                         
                                                              finished Tefillin

I looked for men wearing Tefillin when we visited the synagogue next, but did not see any from the women's gallery where we sat behind a plexiglass partition.

The room was filled with men chanting, reading, walking, rocking, talking, and perhaps arguing.  Rabbi Epstein accompanied the male member of our group to the floor of the synagogue, and without a guide, we understood little of what was happening.  However, the significance to the participants was obvious.

Leaving the synagogue, Epstein led us through a typical Crown Heights neighborhood where he and many members of the Chabad Lubavitch Hasidic sect live.  He stopped in front of a windowless building and motioned for us to follow him.  "This is a bakery," he shouted over his shoulder. "If you're looking for a bakery that will put pounds on you just by walking by, that's down the street.  This one makes matzo bread only," he continued as we entered a room piled high with matzo bread boxes and men's frenzied voices.  "They have 18 minutes from the time the bread and water combine to the time the bread comes out of the oven," the rabbi explained. "After 18 minutes, it is no longer unleavened bread."

Over the heads of the workers, I saw a long, narrow table with women on both sides rolling balls of dough into thin, round circles.



The circles were placed onto longer, rounded sticks, then passed along to the oven room, where the dough was cooked in a flaming oven.  (No pictures were allowed except in the oven room.)

Matzo bread ready to be boxed and shipped.







Ending the three-hour tour with a kosher deli lunch, we thanked Rabbi Epstein.  I extended my hand to shake his, but he nicely refused.  "We do not touch women other than our wives," he said.  Marian and I walked away with more questions than answers, but deeply grateful for the opportunity to learn.

For more information about the tours, you can visit the website, Jewish Hasidic Walking Tours.  The site provides a five-minute video of tour highlights, along with a link to buy tickets.

**********
My latest article for Downtown Magazine appeared online today, "Titanic at 100, Myth and Mystery - New Exhibit Opens at South Street Seaport Museum"


 

Brooklyn Botanic Garden. . .With More Friends

Who knew that there is more than one botanical garden in New York City?
A friend recently began describing  the Cherry Watch Blossom Status to me.
"It's on the botanical garden's website. You can find out the best time to view blossoms.  It looks like another week or so before most of them will be in full bloom," she reported.
Confused, I said, "But I've already seen cherry blossoms at the New York Botanical Garden."
"Not that botanical garden, the other one, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden," she patiently explained.

I must start reading my guidebooks more closely.

On a perfect Easter afternoon - no clouds, only blue sky, sunshine and 60-degree gentle breezes - I was off.  I couldn't wait until the "best viewing time."  Another garden awaited my exploring.  This one is somewhat smaller, 52 acres rather than the 250 of its Bronx counterpart, but plenty big for me. . . and two friends.  Different exploring buddies than the ones who trekked with me to the New York Botanical Garden last week, but world adventurers, none the less.

                         Shannon and Nola, friends whom Drew and I first met when we all worked
                                                  in Egypt, at Cairo American College

So, what prompted me to take my camera out every couple of minutes, stopped me every few feet to smell and listen?  The better question is, "What didn't?"  Such incredible beauty, fragrances and birdsong compacted into 52 acres!

The Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden particularly captured my attention, as an area I did not find at the New York Botanical Garden.  Wandering around the rim of the pond, I found collections of trees and flowering plants that meshed together so perfectly, it was hard to tell where one stopped and the next started.

                                    
                       Cherry blossoms found a perfect home on the pond's edge.


  It was not only the grand sights, but the tiny, timid leaves and flowers who asked me to stop and take their picture.

                                                          **********

                A walk in nature always leaves me with memories and a "wanting" to return.

                           

      The delicateness of a cherry blossom lingers in my mind. . .

                     while a field of green blades, soon to be awash in Bluebell, will bring me 

                                (hopefully, with Nola and Shannon) back in May.

      In the meantime, if any of you knows of yet another botanical garden in New York City, 

      please leave me a comment.         

New York Botanical Garden. . . with Friends

There are days when I crave a bigger patch of nature than the lovely City Hall Park outside my window.  I need miles of woods to walk in, towering trees to keep me company, and birdsong to remind me to stop the mindless chatter and listen, deeply listen.  I found 250 acres of just such a place yesterday at the New York Botanical Garden.

Mary and Polly, friends from years past and miles apart, had traveled to New York for a brief 2-day reunion.  As the three of us added possibilities to an already lengthy list, springtime in the Botanical Garden continued to rise to the top.  The Garden's website lured us towards the Bronx. . . "Flowering Cherries - the delicate pink and white blossoms of more than 200 flowering cherries beckon you to take a peaceful April stroll."  As we rumbled through 16 subway stations, then walked 5 to 6 blocks from the Bedford Park station to the Garden's entrance, our anticipation could not prepare us for the reality inside the gate. 

Within seconds of entering, the collective din of urban life simply. . . disappeared.  A heaviness I didn't know I was carrying, left as I crossed the threshold, replaced by an overwhelming urge to breathe to the bottom on my lungs.

A waiting tram escorted us ---

through crabapple collections  

under greening towers 

around "Daffodil Valley"

past inviting perches

Every scene as joyful as the next.  

Then climbing a gradually sloping hill, we crested among cherry blossoms.

 

                     

We left the tram to walk among them, to linger in the smell of freshly cut grass, to extend the moment.

The fortunate one of the trio living in New York, I can return to see the azaleas and lilacs blooming in a week or so and walk, again, along the paths and sit among the new growth.  And think, gratefully, of good friends. . .

Twylla, Mary and Polly