New York can be a hard place. People are rushing around you, treating you as if you weren’t human, only something in their way. The bustle can be overwhelming. You can get lost in the shuffle and feel like a number. But living here with a family has been very different, especially with a newborn.Continue reading “How New Yorkers react to our five pound baby”
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and we were in Washington Square Park, the iconic park in downtown Manhattan. The large marshmallow clouds marched in rows over the skyline; there was a slight breeze that brought comfort from the warmth of the sun shining down on the sea of humanity. The fountain was spraying water in the air, while kids danced and frolicked in the water. The landmark arc was white and seemed to glow as it towered over everything and everyone. People were everywhere: around the fountain, on benches, milling around, walking through, watching entertainers, on the grass in bathing suits. Dancers were dancing, musicians were playing, and the audiences were paying. Every creed, color, nationality seemed present. It was a collage of park, people, art, music, city, and nature. It was truly humanity at its best on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.
The smells of New York City are usually the butt of a joke (which is often associated with the smell of a butt).
But in the spring, there is something sweet in the air.
It’s surprising.Continue reading “In NYC, spring is in the air”
Pizza is life.
I crave it, dream about it, long for it.Continue reading “I ❤️ pizza”
NYC is notorious for being competitive…for everything—even preschool.
That’s right, we aren’t talking about college, Ivy League, Harvard…Nah. I’m talking about the institution where your kids go to play with blocks, take naps, and get milk and cookies.
Going to the grocery store for organic cucumbers should be boring.
But this time was different.
When I was younger, I didn’t think I could ever fall into depression. Not that I wasn’t susceptible to it but that it just would happen to me. But, I was naive.
I was working at a church in Queens, New York, learning how to start churches. I was young and full of hope.
My life was a beautiful dream. I was living in the city I loved, working in the career I felt called to and I was making new friends. My future looked bright.
Then, I got fired.
I was rushing to church with my son last Sunday, and we walked past a homeless man.
“Can you spare any change or a cup of coffee,” he says in a wispy voice as I glance at him and step one foot in front of the other. My son looks at his face.Continue reading “On the streets of NYC: my son, a homeless-man and me”