New York

All posts tagged New York

I Want My Warm Weather Back!

Published March 19, 2012 by monicastangledweb

To all of you living in Chicago, New York, Minneapolis, St. Louis, Washington D.C. and the like:

Here in Southern California, we haven't seen temperatures above 60 degrees ever since our warm weather was kidnapped and moved to Chicago, New York and the like. (photo: Lee Wag)

I know where your cold weather went. It’s here in San Diego, and it’s waiting for you to claim it.

Yep, I saw what you did. Don’t think I can’t see you, wearing your tees, flip-flops and shorts on Lake Michigan, thinking you’re so cool enjoying your unusually mild weather. Sure, there you are, playing Frisbee, which is so out of the norm where you live. But trust me, it’s par for the course here. All YEAR ROUND. At least, it was until you absconded with it!

So give it up, hand it over and stop your tomfoolery. Stat.

For, I know what you’re up to. You are holding our warm, balmy weather hostage and we’re not falling for it.

Furthermore, the ransom you are requesting is moot. Non-negotiable, as we, who live in Southern California, already pay a heft price for the privilege of our warm, comfortable climate. The rent alone is highway robbery. And our motto is: Not a penny more!

So, give us our weather back now. After all, we don’t do well with these blustery, icy-cold record low temps we’re having. We’re absolutely freezing here! We don’t own the wardrobe for this kind of weather—and we don’t know how to drive in it. Do you know how many accidents we had this weekend, all because of the freezing rain and hail? Well, I don’t know either, but I’m pretty sure it was at least, a gazillion.

What’s more, there’s been a shortage of hot cocoa mix in the grocery stores and a run on umbrellas and scarves since your cold weather arrived. And, last I checked, they’re no longer making fur-lined bikinis, for those daring enough to still go in the ocean.

So, whatever you did to get rid of your lousy weather, undo it now. Hop on a plane and come pick it up, or give us your mailing address and we’ll get it shipped back. Heck, I’ll even cover the costs of overnight shipping.

And in return, all we ask, all we want, is our WARM WEATHER BACK! And that includes the sun!

Now, if you still insist on keeping our weather, then don’t come back and whine when you start experiencing wild fires, mudslides and earthquakes. After all, these little bundles of nature go hand in hand. Quid pro quo.

So, I’m closing my eyes and counting to 100. And, when I open them, my good weather better be back and your icy temps gone, once and for all. No questions asked. Let bygones be bygones and old acquaintance be forgot, and, well, you get my drift. Deal?

Empire State of Mine

Published January 27, 2012 by monicastangledweb

Not that anyone has asked, but I’ll say it anyway: I thank my lucky stars I grew up in New York.

I mean, when you think about it, when my parents left their country for the U.S.—just after World War II—they could have ended up anywhere. Today, I could be saying that I hail from Gainesville, Florida or, that I was born on a cattle ranch in Nacogdoches, Texas, assuming they have cattle in Nacogdoches. And, maybe if that had happened, I would be saying I like these places very much.

Ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center.

Or maybe, if their plane had been going at warp speed and shot right over the states, today I might be calling myself a Canadian. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. They have a beautiful national anthem, after all.

So, given the odds, it’s a wonder my folks made it to New York at all.  By the city that never sleeps. The Big Apple. Where Mad Men dreams come true. Home to Woody Allen, Lady Liberty, an empire state of mind, and, as it turns out–me!

Which means, I grew up shopping at the Macy’s flagship store in Manhattan—the very same one that inspired Miracle on 34th Street. I went to school at P.S. 154 and, later, to P.S. 117. We didn’t bother giving schools names; after all, New Yorkers don’t have time for such trivialities.

When I was a mere infant, my mother and her friend, who also had a baby, would push our baby carriages to the supermarket and park us out in front, while they went inside and did their grocery shopping. All the while, we, babies, would be innocently lulled to sleep by the cacophony of traffic on Main Street. Who had time for finding babysitters? The streets were our sitters!

Growing up in New York, meant class field trips to the United Nations, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Hayden Planetarium. Does it get any better than that?

A view from atop of the Empire State Building.

Every time there was a new film playing at Radio City Music Hall, my family was there, listening to the organist play while we took our seats (boring!), and seeing a movie (the Doris Day films were the best!). And, when the film was over, it was exciting to see the fabulous, New York City Rockettes, tapping and kicking away, in all their glory.

Growing up in New York meant waking up at the crack of dawn to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, live and in person. We saw it in all kinds of inclement weather, with pummeling, freezing rain being the worst. Best of all, growing up in New York meant I got to see many Broadway musicals, like The Sound of Music with Mary Martin, and My Fair Lady, with Julie Andrews. I also got to see Here’s Love, a musical version of Miracle on 34th Street that flopped, despite my seven-year-old self, predicting to my school chum, that it would be a big hit.

I LOVE the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!

Growing up in New York meant that, as a teen, I got to see up-and-coming journalist, Geraldo Rivera, and his One-to-One benefit concert at Madison Square Garden. The line-up included John Lennon, Stevie Wonder, Roberta Flack, and best of all, who can forget, Sha-Na-Na.

Growing up in New York means that I say “on line,” and not “in line” when I’m standing on a line and waiting my turn.

Being a kid in New York was so much fun that I’m hard pressed to find any drawbacks.

For, had I not grown up in NY, I would never have met Rod Serling in Central Park, back when he was still producing The Twilight Zone TV series.

Central Park in summer.

I wouldn’t have been able to read the local newspaper to keep up on that nefarious serial killer, David Berkowitz, aka, Son of Sam. And how would I have ever found a $20 bill at the Flushing subway station if I wasn’t in Queens at the time? Or mastered my cool, aloof, don’t-bother-me stare, while assertively striding through the streets of Manhattan?

Perhaps, too, I would never have eaten gads of steaks at Tad’s Steak House, only to learn they weren’t serving steaks at all. Horse meat was the meat du jour. Talk about indigestion.

And, I probably would never have experienced the hot, sweaty platforms at the subway station in summertime, or the crushing sensation that you feel when you wedge the subway doors open as they’re closing, because, if you don’t, who knows when the next train will come along?

Or the mobs of people everywhere, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in cramped restaurants, and dining so close you could almost kiss the stranger next to you on the cheek, but, why on earth would you?

I was raised in New York, which gives me carte blanche to call myself a New Yorker, or Nu YAWKER, depending on your accent.

New York and proud of it.

How about you? What makes your hometown special to you?

Summer Films To See

Published August 5, 2011 by monicastangledweb

At home, that is.

If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I am a film aficionado. And, if you ask me, there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned classic film. You could say, that I am a self-proclaimed expert on the films of yesteryear. And because I’m feeling generous today–and because summer is just about halfway over, yikes!–I am sharing with you my must-see summer film list. Trust me, if you haven’t seen all of these by now, then, be sure to add them to your Netflix queue today! You’ll be glad you did.

Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. It doesn't get any better than this.

The Sandra Dee Trifecta:

Nothing says summer, like a good ol’ Sandra Dee flick, and she made these three in the same year! That’s one busy chick, if you ask me. In her day, Sandra Dee was the pretty girl next door. Spunky, perky and all-American. A real powerhouse, with wardrobe that would make any fashionista pea green with envy. Here are my Sandra Dee faves:

Gidget (1959): If you’ve never seen James Darren as Moondoggie, then you must see this! There were three Gidget films made, and each time Gidget was played by a different actress. While I personally like all three films, the one must-see is the original, which starred Sandra Dee. Light and frothy with a typically happy ending. Look for Cliff Robertson as the Big Kahuna!

Imitation of Life (1959): This tear-jerker isn’t really a summer movie but it starts in summer, under the boardwalk of a New York beach. It was one of my mother’s favorite movies, so that alone should make you want to see it. And it was a progressive one at that—dealing with race, class and generations at odds with each other. In fact, if you like The Help (either the book or soon-to-be-released film), you’ll want to see this tale of a rich woman and her maid–and their children. Sandra Dee plays a teenager with a deep crush on her mother’s boyfriend. Keep tissues handy!

A Summer’s Place (1959): This is one of those movies that you have to see for the theme song alone. It is memorable for starring Sandra Dee with the truly handsome Troy Donahue. Together they were America’s sweethearts. Two beautiful people in love, though in this one, Sandra Dee’s mom is a frigid woman, who makes her family’s lives miserable.  It’s a generational film about lust, heartache and some misunderstood kids. Did I mention the terrific, Grammy-winning theme song? The song alone will wrench at your heart.

Teens in Love:

American Graffiti (1973): This film was innovative, breaking new ground in cinema and doing the unthinkable: Using actual songs that were popular on the radio, to evoke the times, instead of creating an original score for the film. This was George Lucas’ first blockbuster hit. Great cast. See it for Harrison Ford, who had a small role and who was then an unknown. Ron Howard plays a character that is reminiscent of his role in Happy Days.

Dirty Dancing (1987): For anyone who has spent a summer in the Catskills, this is the movie to see and see again. The music, the ambience and Patrick Swayze’s dance moves. You know the rest.

Grease (1978): Who can forget the scene where Sandy becomes a bad girl, all decked in leather, and stomps out Danny’s cigarette with her shoe? This film doesn’t star Sandra Dee but Stockard Channing does sing about her. John Travolta still sets a lot of hearts on fire with this one.

Where the Boys Are (1960): More teen angst from the 60’s. This has nothing to do with summer. It’s about teens gathering in Ft. Lauderdale for spring break and passion running amok, but I love its summer feel. Connie Francis makes her debut in this flick with a torch-sounding song by the same name as the film. Where the boys are, indeed.

The Musicals:

State Fair (1945 and 1962): There are two versions of this Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. I’m a fan of both–and they’re very different. The original stars Jeanne Crain and Dana Andrews (FYI, Dana’s a man). The 1962 version doesn’t stay true to the classic story, even moves it from Iowa to Texas and adds some new songs. But I love it because it stars one of my favorite actresses of the day, Ann-Margret. She has gorgeous red hair, and shines when she’s singing and dancing. Watch her as she playfully belts out, “Isn’t it Kind of Fun?”

Summer in the City:

Rear Window(1954): Grace Kelly only made a handful of movies before marrying her prince, and leaving Hollywood forever. This is one of her finest. Alfred Hitchcock’s summer in New York story also stars Jimmy Stewart in a leg cast up to his hip. He cannot move, so he spends his time spying on his neighbors. You can feel the heat of summer, as much as you can feel Miss Lonelyheart’s pain. You don’t know Miss Lonelyhearts? Then see the movie. And see Thelma Ritter at her New York, acerbic best.

Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch

The Seven Year Itch (1955) Billy Wilder’s film starring Marilyn Monroe, set in the summer heat of New York. Not one of my greatest flicks of all time, if you ask me, but one you should see to understand the full breadth of the era. Famous for Marilyn storing her undies in the ice box and standing over a grate as a subway train passes.

Summer Action:

Jaws (1975): What’s a summer without a thrilling movie? I read the book but this was one case where the movie was hands-down better. I can still hear the first bars of the Jaws theme song, and it still gives me chills.

Homespun Summer:

Cheaper by the Dozen (1950) Not the one starring Steve Martin and Bonnie Hunter. I’m talking the original with Clifton Webb and Myrna Loy. A fun, old-fashioned family movie, where dad is the patriarch and kids are respectful of their elders. And the teen daughters must wear bathing suits that cover their entire bodies. Based on a true story, and absolutely charming.

So, how about you? Any summer films you’d like to recommend?

Summer Memories: New York World’s Fair

Published July 15, 2011 by monicastangledweb

The World's Fair anthem: "There's a great big beautiful tomorrow." Above: artist rendering of the GE pavillion, designed by Walt Disney. Source: © The Walt Disney Company

Miss New York beamed from the stage. In her blue taffeta dress, white gloves and shiny pumps, she began to sing,

“Getting to know you, getting to know all about you—“

Suddenly, the music stopped and, in a pre-rehearsed sort of way, she looked around, wide-eyed, at the hundreds of moms, dads and children in the audience, sticky from the hot summer sun, and exclaimed,

“Why, children! Won’t you join me on stage, so I can get to know all of you?”

Extending her arms toward us, she beckoned excitedly, “Come, come!”

As if an army of sweaty kids, marching up to hone in on her song, was going to make her day. I for one didn’t like the way this was going. I was way too shy and mortified to even consider getting up on stage with Miss New York and a bunch of kids I didn’t know, just to sing a song from The King and I, much as I liked the song and knew all the words.  Besides, with my brown, choppy hair and the clothes I had on–an old pair of my brother’s shorts, and a striped shirt–I didn’t think I was presentable enough, certainly not ready for my close-up, Mr. Ziegfeld. So I sunk into my seat as best I could and drew from the years of practice of avoiding the donation basket in church:  I pretended not to notice what was going on by acting as if I was distracted by something in my lap.

Miss New York said, “Come on, dear, come with me.” Which is when I realized she was standing in the aisle right by our row, talking directly to me, the last holdout.  Apparently, all the kids were already on stage and, Miss New York wasn’t taking no for an answer. I felt flushed, sure I was going to pass out. I looked at my mother, hoping she’d rescue me and tell Miss New York that I was ill, but my mother had already jumped ship.  She gave me one of her stern looks and began prying me out of my seat, pushing me towards the pretty lady. Miss New York grabbed my hand and, against my better judgment, I followed her on to the stage.

So was my brush with fame, and it happened at the New York World’s Fair.

The Ford Mustang made its debut at the 1964 New York World's Fair.

If you ask me, the World’s Fair was the best thing to happen to New York.  During it’s two-year run, from April to October, 1964 and 1965, we had a slew of family from Venezuela checking in at the Casa Medina, so they, too, could attend the fair.  And, each time new visitors arrived, I got to go, too.

Which was fine with me because, except for that one humiliating incident on stage with Miss New York, I was head over heels in love with the fair. There was so much to see, and so much to take in. I can still remember the smells—a mixture of cotton candy, Belgian waffles and fresh strawberries.

The fair’s theme was “Peace Through Understanding.” But it might as well have been technology and the promise of the future. A multitude of innovations made their debut at the fair. Like the touchtone phone, color TV—and the Ford Mustang. “There’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow” was a song written for the fair and it became an anthem for hordes of baby boomers who were happy to soak up its message—that the fair was there to celebrate us and trumpet our future! Seeing is believing, and the fair had lots to keep us mesmerized, and we, in turn, responded with the appropriate  “Ooh’s” and “Ah’s” upon discovering yet a new technological innovation. We were pliable, blank slates–the leaders of tomorrow–and we were ready to embrace a new era of space and beyond!

This was where Walt Disney launched its first use of audio-animatronics and introduced the “It’s a Small World” exhibit. I took that boat ride to hear the internationally-outfitted dolls sing, at least 46 times.  But my favorite pavilion, hands-down, belonged to General Electric, in which the audience got to sit in an auditorium that revolved around a 360 degree stage, for a show called, “The Carousel of Progress.” It featured animatronic families from the 1890’s to the then present, singing about the astounding world of electricity. By the time it ended, you couldn’t help but feel pride in American know-how.

At the RCA pavillion, you could see yourself on Color TV!

The last time I went to the fair it was with my father. My family, having gone scores of times, was exhausted. We’d seen it all and then some.  But not me.  I was always up for going.  And since my mother didn’t want to go, I went with my father. Just the two of us, which, if you ask me, is a recipe for not having fun. That day, my father insisted on seeing everything one more time, including what I deemed were the boring parts—the international and state pavilions, and DuPont’s musical tribute to the world of chemistry, which didn’t hold a candle to GE’s pavilion.

Worse, my father refused to spend a dime on food, so nothing to eat all day long. By nightfall I was famished and feeling faint, as we made our way to the subway. I complained of a headache. My father reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wrapped sugar cube. I ravished that sugar cube, treasuring ever speck of it.

As we reached the train station, I turned around and looked back at the lights of the fair, one last time.  Hard to believe it would soon close forever.  All those pavilions. For two shiny summers, the World’s Fair had been my Mecca, a place to learn what my future would hold. And, in a flash it was over, thus providing me with the harshest lesson of all: nothing lasts forever.

Good Times with Country Boys

Published February 3, 2011 by monicastangledweb

Is it me or does anyone else feel like getting up and line dancing every time they see the GE Ecomagination commercial on TV?  You know which one I’m talking about. In the ad, people from around the world form one very long line, from the GE factory to the corporate offices, to an airfield where a jet plane is clearly marked with the GE logo, across a city street, through the GE research labs, and finally into the farmlands. And they’re all line dancing, in perfect formation, to the tune of Alan Jackson’s hit, “Good Time.”

Everyone's dancing in the GE Ecomagination Line Dance Commercial.

Well the tune is so darn catchy, and the people in the commercial seem to be having such a good time not working, that it makes me want to put on my cowboy hat, kick up my boots, and join them.  Only I don’t know how to line dance, and I don’t think dancing salsa or putting on my tap shoes and tapping, would have the same effect.  Besides, I don’t own a cowboy hat or Western boots.

Just the same, that 30-second video brings out the country in me. Now, I’ll be the first to admit, there’s not much country in this Latina from Queens.  But just so you know, I had my brush with country once upon a time.  And I still like to listen to country music radio when the mood fits, or when I’m remembering a couple of country boys named Scott and Roy.

The year was 1978. At the time, I was living in Greenbelt, Maryland, with my roommate, Mandy, and we were both attending a nearby university.  I’d been looking for a part-time job to no avail, and then one day Mandy, who’s also from New York, came home and told me she had talked the owner of a brand new Arco mini-mart into hiring us both on the spot.

The mini-mart, just down the street from our apartment complex, was to have its grand opening in a day or so.  Apparently, Mandy had seen the “Now Hiring” sign in the window and had gone right in and got us the jobs.  Just like that. We were to be cashiers, something I’d never done before and somehow it didn’t seem to matter that the new boss and I had not yet met.

Mandy and I ended up working separate shifts, so we never really saw each other at work. Through our jobs, we got to know the locals—and the mostly male regulars who came in every morning for their cup of coffee and pack of cigarettes, before heading to construction jobs or some other work that required them being outdoors and working with their hands.

Two, in particular, Scott and Roy, started hanging around the store whenever Mandy or I were working, just to chat and shoot the breeze.  With their sunburnt faces and ruddy features, they had a distinctive Southern charm. These good ol’ boys seemed to get a kick out of our New York accents and the fact that we’d never been to a country western bar.

So it wasn’t long before they started inviting us to these bars to give us a bit of that down-home experience.  We soon were knee deep in the heart of country—and a long way from midtown Manhattan—dancing the Two-step and listening to the likes of Charley Pride, Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson.  This was Americana at its best, where Civil War re-enactments took place seemingly everyday and hushpuppies were served with just about every meal.  But while Roy and Scott lived in this world 24/7, Mandy and I were just passing through.  School would eventually end and we’d go back to our more urban lifestyles.

Sure enough, our adventures in country lasted close to a year. In May, after finals, Mandy graduated and moved back to New York. I stayed on another year but quit my job at the mini-mart for a different one I had found–on my own–at the local mall. We never did see Roy and Scott again. But I still see Mandy from time to time, whenever I get back to the city.

Yet, sometimes I find myself wondering, whatever happened to those country boys?  Maybe they’re part of that long line of line dancers in the GE commercial, still enjoying their country western ways.  I’d like to think that. If not, wherever they are, I sure do want to thank them for their Southern hospitality and for introducing a couple of Yankee gals to the best of country. Their country.

Related Articles
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,127 other followers