Memories of New York - A Poem Without Borders

Of Thee I Sing Too The MTA of New York City, filled with expressionless riders, primarily of One color—brown. Exhausted faces looking at no one. Grandson struggles to avoid the sleeping, homeless man who keeps leaning Precariously close to his shoulder. Miraculously, at the next stop a youthful red-haired, one-man-band of a man Begins to sing and play his harmonica while clanging the cymbals Attached to his worn out jeans with holes. The also worn faces in the car awake and begin to smile not only at the singer but also to each other. A boat ride to Liberty Island and Ellis Island this lovely-lit Friday afternoon, Mashed and compacted like subway riders riding endlessly below The city skyline, holding on to the poles as the boat sways one way And then another. Is this the way the immigrants felt as they crossed the ocean in their bid for A forever freedom? Until . . . at last . . . they were greeted by the famed Statue of Liberty and Began swelling with hope and joy to find a friend in America. The ever-present silent mime at the corner of Central Park, always willing To pose with all who would but contribute $3 to the bucket, Dressed as the Statue of Liberty with her torch held high, Face and draping clothes painted silver, Covering grandson with an American flag as he joyfully grins for the camera. The golden bull of a statue representing the perhaps forever gone times of Wall Street, Hoards of crowds hovering to get a photograph to take home. The commericialism of the 5th Avenue and Times Square shopping areas As herds of tiny children pose by giant, savory, chocolate Easter bunnies at Dylan’s Candy Bar or a massive Lego Chewbacca In FAO Swartz or the T-Rex in Toys R Us. Grandson ecstatic as he fills his candy jar full of M & M’s, jelly beans, Jolly Ranchers, and other delights. Is our country great or what? America, of thee I sing too.

The Peanut Butter and Jelly Bomber

On my flight home from a recent trip to New York, I once again encountered the airline security police. The flights to Northwest Arkansas through Chicago would take me directly to a spring break week with my two grandchildren, Caitlyn and Charlie, plus Caitlyn's friend. I put a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly into my carry on bag to ensure a quick meal at the cabin where we were staying in Eureka Springs. Evidently, according to my husband, I did not read the "restricted items" list. I admit I did not, but I knew all prescriptions had to be put in clear quart size bags for inspection, all cosmetics had to be in three ounce size bottles. no liquids of any kind would be allowed like bottled water from home, and on and on. I reasoned to myself that peanut butter and jelly were no liquids. Upon removing my vest, jacket, shoes, coins, watch, jewelry, and belt to go through the security line, I heard the dreaded words from one of the officials, "bag check." I saw the next woman put on her plastic gloves and thought, "I wonder what they saw." She immediately took out the peanut butter and jelly and tossed them into a large garbage container where they hit the bottom with a breaking thud. Our homeland security chief Janet appears on television regularly to assure the public that, yes indeed, our rules are being relaxed every day. I am still waiting for good common sense to prevail as an Anglo American grandmother goes through a security line.

Blackberry Moms

I have heard in recent months about the effect of technology on parenting. I have seen scenes on television of children looking longingly at the parent while the parent is using a Blackberry, for example. My own experience into the phenomenon has now been widened to include an actual observance of my daughter and five-year-old grandson in this mode. I was blessed earlier this month to be invited to be a nanny to my grandson in New York City while his mom was on a business trip. I loved New York and the times I shared with Cole, my grandson, for two full weeks. We did all kinds of activities in the city--two children's museums, two zoos, two trips to the famous Toys R Us location in Times Square with the Ferris wheel and roaring T-Rex, a dance on the big piano in FAO Swartz, a fun time at Dylan's Candy Bar, the St. Patrick's Day Parade, the play Mary Poppins, and numerous other experiences. I can't imagine how I would have held a Blackberry and been able to communicate with Cole. My daughter, however, is much better at multi-tasking than I. I first observed her in the backyard patio of the apartment we rented in Brooklyn. The landlords had put in a basketball goal, swing, slide, and play area for their children, Ella and Cole (yes, another Cole). Our Cole loved this area and was able to develop his skills of dribbling and shooting baskets while we were there. On one morning, Kimberly (our daughter) was waiting for an e-mail confirmation. She held her Blackberry in her right hand and shot several baskets with her left hand at the same time. I was amazed. I have also observed her ability to keep three conversations going at once--to her son, to me, and to the Blackberry tweets. Cole even became so interested in this process that, before our time ended in New York, he sent his first e-mail to his mom, knowing that she would read it almost immediately on her Blackberry. I, at this point, am still unsure about the intervention of technology on our parenting roles. Future research will show us whether this will be a positive or negative influence upon our children overall in their development. For me, the jury is still out.