The Litter Tree

The diversity of life forms on this planet is beyond awe-inspiring.  Life forms include trees.  I believe I have discovered a new species of tree, right outside my apartment window.

Horticulturists don’t believe my reports.  The nicest response I received from one of them was the one that stated, “We pass your report around the office every April Fools’ Day and laugh until we wet ourselves.”

Therefore, like everyone else who has seen something unusual, I am thumbing my nose at the scientists and telling my story to the public.

Some trees grow sweet, fragranced cherry blossoms, then sweet, delicious cherries.  Some trees grow apple blossoms, then nice, round, delicious apples.  Other trees grow oranges, apricots, acorns and other nice things.

The tree outside my window is a litter tree.  It grows plastic supermarket bags, two at a time.  I don’t know how this happened.  Maybe somebody back in the 70s or 80s buried a supermarket bag in the yard/garden outside our building and it somehow took root.  Why anyone would bury a supermarket bag is something I don’t understand, but some people will do anything for fun.

Litter Tree in Full Bloom

It is probably the sole tree on earth that grows only two pieces of inedible fruit at a time.  Like all fruit, the fruit of the litter tree appears, grows, then fades and dies.  The big difference, though, between a litter tree and, say, an apple tree is that the two plastic bags hanging from the litter tree never fall to earth.  They shrivel and shred, but the remains hang on the tree, as if trying to cling to a life they have long since lost.  Because they are too high up to be picked by hand, they remain on the tree, a sad reminder of what used to be.

Litter Tree with Rotten Fruit

The litter tree is native to The Bronx, New York.  Plastic bags and wind are also common in The Bronx, but this does not affect the litter tree, which stands tall and independent.

I hope that someday the litter tree will become the official tree of The Bronx.  Until then, I must work to get people to believe it exists.

Life in My Corner

When most people think of The Bronx, they picture rundown, dangerous neighborhoods with drug dealers, junkies and gangs shooting at each other and hitting everyone else, in between selling crack to first graders, beating up old ladies and scaring the hell out of everyone.  They picture a borough populated with thugs and hookers and dropouts, with a few terrified normal working class people here and there.

Remember The Bonfire of the Vanities, by Tom Wolfe?  If you've read the book, you'll know to what I am referring.  If you have not read it, please do.  It's a great novel. 

Okay.  There are some areas of The Bronx that are not so fine, but the same can be said for almost everywhere else on earth.  Why should The Bronx be any different?

Oh, but we have our nice areas, too.  Yes, we do.  I ought to know.

A Friendly Neighborhood

I live in a section of The Bronx called Kingsbridge.  It used to be an Irish neighborhood, and some of the Irish are still around, most of them older people.  Now it is heavily Hispanic, mostly Dominican.  It's a friendly neighborhood.  I am used to being called “Mami” by everyone from church choir members to the man who sells flavored ices on the street on hot summer days.  I’m one of his steady customers.

There are only a few Italians in the neighborhood and, in true Italian fashion, most of them live almost next door to each other, on the same two streets.

Someone once told me that New York City cops love to be assigned to our local precinct because so little happens here.  No, we are not completely crime free, but we're pretty close to it, as big city neighborhoods go.  I suspect that one reason for this might be the two huge churches, one Anglican Episcopalian and one Roman Catholic, that stand on the same block on Kingsbridge Avenue, reminding potential evildoers of where they will end up if they rob a corner grocery store and get killed right afterward before they get a chance to repent.  To add strength to the message, the Catholic church has pre-recorded bells that ring at certain times.  If the sight of two giant churches doesn't put the fear of God into a sinner, those bells will.

The neighborhood is mostly Roman Catholic, which isn't surprising in a Latino/Irish neighborhood.  The result is that the Catholic church, The Church of St. John/Visitation, has a huge congregation, most of whom don't know each other, although you'd never know that because of the size of the crowd and the volume of the chatter on the sidewalk in front of the church after mass.

Sunset on Kingsbridge Avenue.  Notice the two churches.

Catholics are required to go to mass on Sundays and special Holy Days.  Those are the rules.  A lot of Catholics don't pay attention to the rules, especially when they involve getting up early on a Sunday morning.  Special days like Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, Easter and Christmas are an exception.  Many Catholics who never open the doors of a church at any other time will show up religiously on those occasions.  The population inside the church grows exponentially on those days, as does the crowd on the sidewalk after mass.  I have tried to walk through that crowd.  The uncharitable thoughts that run through my mind when it takes me five minutes to walk a few feet, including trying to avoid photobombing several people, are not the kind that a person should be thinking in front of a church.

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The Anglican/Episcopal church, two doors over from St. John/Visitation, is the Church of the Mediator.  Being an Episcopal parish in a working class Roman Catholic neighborhood means that their congregation is small and they don't have much money.  They have to raise money in other ways beside the usual collection baskets, raffles, bake sales and flea markets.  As a result, there is always something going on over there.  They have a farmer's market on Sundays.  They host martial arts classes, concerts and plays.  Their basement is the local voting precinct.  These things give the Catholics from two doors over plenty of reason to visit the Episcopal church and spend their money, which makes the Episcopalians happy.​

A few years back, the Church of the Mediator sold a chunk of their property to a real estate developer, who built some luxury condos.  Apparently, nobody told the developer that building expensive luxury housing in a Dominican neighborhood, next door to a church, two blocks from a noisy elevated subway line and an easy walk to corner bodegas, a couple of donut shops, several dollar stores, a couple of Dunkin Donuts, a McDonald's, a couple of gas stations, three diners, at least two Caribbean restaurants, a Korean greengrocer, who knows how many hair salons and manicure places and a couple of Chinese variety stores -- places that sort of scream "working class ethnic neighborhood" -- would not be a good idea.  So who moved in?  A clinic, a medical imaging place, etc.

The neighborhood is temporarily saved from being gentrified, which is fine with me.

View of the Elevated Subway Tracks

Life in New York City

New York has a bad reputation, much of it undeserved.  In movies, television and newspapers New York is always dirty, crime-filled, blight-ridden and dangerous.  (“There are 8 million stories in The Naked City … .”?  Talk about lousy public relations!)  Actually, it’s a nice place to live, if you don’t mind the expense.  We pay for the privilege of living here – a lot.  But, in spite of what you see on Law and Order, we don’t stumble over gruesome murder victims every time we step outside.  Most of us never see a murder victim even once in our entire lives.  Really.  It’s true.

I have lived here for over thirty years.  Most of that time I lived in Brooklyn.  For the last several years The Bronx has been my home.  I only lived in Manhattan for a couple of months, but I’ve been working there for over 30 years, not to mention all the performances I have sung and attended there and all the friends I have who live there.  I know Manhattan better than I know either Brooklyn or The Bronx, which is very New Yorker of me.

The Weather

New Yorkers will get through a hurricane, a Nor’easter or a giant blizzard with great courage and fortitude.  High winds?  Flooding?  A week of blackouts?  Fuhgeddaboudit!  On the other hand, a little bit of rain or slush turns us into a bunch of grumbling sissies.

The reason is that most New Yorkers don’t have cars.  A car is a lot of trouble here, and we have good public transportation almost everywhere, except on Staten Island.* People in other parts of this country can step out of their houses on a crummy day and right into the car.  Most New Yorkers step outside into the weather and walk in it.  Sometimes we have to stand in it.  The curbs soon become littered with broken umbrellas that have been tossed aside and left to die alone and abandoned.  Very few of today’s umbrellas can survive the combination of bad weather and the anger of a New Yorker caught in the rain, especially if there is a high wind at the same time.  In that case, all bets are off and it’s every man for himself, women and children included.

It’s a good thing that it doesn’t snow as often here as it does Upstate or in New England.  Snow in New York City is pretty for about five minutes before it turns into Super Slush.  If there is any way to get inside your boots, Super Slush will find it.  Super Slush congregates in massive piles on street corners, turning getting across the street into a Herculean task.  Attempting a broad jump over the mess is likely to land you smack in it, surrounded by strangers, some of whom will want to kill you because you splattered dirty slush on them and the rest of whom might help you up after they get through laughing like hyenas or catching you on video.

The irony is that this city is in a protected little pocket and, aside from our legendary hot, humid summers, our normal weather is pretty mild, considering.  New Jersey, Upstate New York, Long Island and New England get hit with crazy weather a lot more than we do.  We complain anyway, because that’s what we do.

* Staten Island is like a separate country, which suits Staten Islanders just fine.  They don’t really believe that they are part of New York City, and they show it by making it hard for anyone who doesn’t live there to get there.  

"It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas"

Black Friday is over for another year, and the same craziness happened, even though a lot of the big ticket stores started Black Friday the night before, when it was still Thanksgiving Day.  Cyber Monday starts tomorrow, but the worst we can expect from that are a few stalled servers.

If you don't think it's time for Christmas yet, just take a stroll through the business district of my neighborhood:




Who wants to bet that bus is late?

 



This means that winter is coming, and is planning at least a 3-month stay:

Woman Slowly Turning Into a Popsicle

To tell the truth, I love Christmas and the whole season leading up to it.  That's because I'm still a kid, even though I have the body of a 60-something year old woman.  I plan to keep this up as long as possible.  It makes aging a lot more fun.