Taking the High Road

Taking the high road is choosing the ethical way…the class act…the higher moral ground. Or you can take a walk on an elevated train track above the bustle of New York City! Which is exactly what we did today.

I was coming out of the fog, vaguely aware of morning, when my door cracked open. Joy poked her cheerful little head in and said, “It’s your last day here, mama. Kellen and I are going running! When we get back we’ll do whatever you want…all day!” Then they went for a four mile run while I slowly came to and wondered what on earth I wanted to do. My window framed blue sky and sunshine. I pulled it open and stuck my head out, reminding myself not to look down. Gorgeous! Instantly I knew that a walk on the High Line was the perfect activity to take advantage of the glorious day.

“The High Line rail-trail is an urban marvel, stretching 1.5 miles and towering almost 30 feet above street level through several neighborhoods in the lower west side of Manhattan,” according to TrailLink online. We walked the whole of it this afternoon. It was 60 degrees, an absolutely delightful way to end 16 days in the Big Apple.

This is what the the rail-trail used to look like. Construction around the Hudson Yards has begun with plans to extend this unfinished part of the Line and upgrade the surrounding neighborhood in the next few years.

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And this is a view of the completed Line. What a change. Seeds from wild grasses that grew along this stretch of abandoned track through the city were gathered and used to create the landscaping. It feels like a stroll through a wild meadow.

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The path allows spectacular vistas of the city. We meandered slowly along as I shot picture after picture, sometimes even getting Kellen to pose for one or two!

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I caught him in the act of patiently waiting on bench at one of the jutting overlooks that are spaced at appropriate intervals along the way.

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There is a holly bush with brilliant red berries right behind Joy and me.

Artists have utilized the sides of buildings for giant murals and sculptures nestle in the wild grasses.

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Do you recognize this rendition of the classic photo showing the sailor kissing the nurse on the street?

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Standing on the trail you can hardly tell that this is a portrait. I was surprised after I took it how clear and detailed it really is.

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A brightly striped bust of what looks like an Asian warrior caught my eye.

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And here’s another piece.

My favorite, though, was the guy raising the blinds and waving out his window to passers by. I did a double/triple take, certain at first he was a picture, then certain that he had moved, then completely uncertain about anything! Joy told me he’s been there every time she’s walked this section. I’m still not sure…

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The Hudson River was visible at different points along the way. I liked this view of the arch by a pier.

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What a magnificent old skyway!

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I couldn’t resist a shot of this billboard. Two zebras in the snow…I have no idea what they were promoting!

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And then, every so often, there are wooden loungers beside the trail. I tried one. They’re surprisingly comfortable.

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And here they are, Joy and Kellen, the dynamic duo! Immediately following this photo Kellen informed me that he was done modeling for today and that I now owned the most extensive Kellen photo library on earth. I considered pleading my case then thought better of it. We have a pretty good relationship, even after two weeks of being confined to 700 square feet. I’d better not push it.

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Now my visit to New York is complete. I’ve seen two plays on Broadway, eaten until I have a new roll of flesh spilling over the waistband of my jeans, ridden the subway alone, shopped for four hours straight at Macy’s, and taken the high road. What a trip! Thanks Joy and Kellen. It’s been fabulous. You’re a class act!

Next stop…Christmas!

Well, we polished off Thanksgiving just in time for Christmas. Nonstop, aren’t they? The holidays…

The tree arrived from New Jersey making the trip up the 24 floors (I stand corrected, I thought it was 21) on Kellen’s back, to their penthouse apartment. We had spent several days prior determining which tiny space would be the best for a potentially tall but hopefully skinny, tree. Kellen ceremoniously secured it in it’s stand…PERFECTION!

The scent of evergreen permeated the air. Joy lit candles and turned on Christmas music. Let the festivities begin! Then she hauled out boxes, upon boxes, and more boxes of ornaments, each one lovingly wrapped in newspaper. As she disrobed them each had a story. Joy is the historian, the keeper of old photos and family relics, the sentimental promoter of tradition. She’s also the undisputed boss.

“Do you like to do lights, mom?” Joy asked in a voice that translated, “Your job is lights!” I don’t think I’ve ever NOT done the lights. It’s an art that I don’t entrust to anyone else. They have to be done right. And this year they have to be perfect because if they aren’t, Kellen will disassemble them and make them so! I know this about him! He is more OC, AR. and BS than I am! (No, I won’t decipher the acronyms!) And make no mistake, I love that about him!

So I did the lights and Kellen approved. Whew! Then, because he has height going for him and the right tools for the job, he was assigned the task of affixing the tree topper. He nailed it. Good job Kellen!

About this time empty boxes, scraps of newsprint, unused strands of lights, and miscellaneous snowmen and Santas were strewn haphazardly about. Joy brought out the wine. She has an instinct for these things. Her timing is impeccable!

It was a muscat, sweet and fruity, just like the company! Kellen tried to achieve the same beautiful reflection through his Miller-champagne-of-bottle-beers but the results were not photo worthy. About that time we were singing along with Mariah Carey’s Christmas album, attempting to stretch our alto voices to the impossible registers of coloratura soprano with only moderate success. Then, at some point, the elves arrived to spit-polish and clean up.

Joy loves her beautiful tree…

and I love my sweet middle child…

The holidays: we love them, we hate them, we eat and drink and make too much merry, but I wouldn’t trade this time in New York for anything. Merry Christmas!

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