R.I.P. John

Today I'm going to detour a bit, for a very personal reason.

In other posts, I've mentioned Millie.  I met her the day I moved to Astoria, in August of 2002.  She saw me as I unloaded boxes, bikes and two cats--Charlie I and Candice--into an apartment in the building next to her house.  She decided that she liked me right then and there, or so it seemed.  And, yes, I liked her immediately.

Well, over the years she's taken care of my cats whenever I've spent time away.  Two years after we became neighbors, I took a trip to France and she cared for Charlie and Candice, probably even better than I did.  Then, about two years after that, she took care of Candice when I went to Turkey.  Charlie had died a couple of months before that and, after I returned from my trip, I adopted a cat she'd rescued--and named Charlie.  A little more than a year after that, Candice died and another one of Millie's rescuees--Max--came into my life.

She's been as good a friend as I've ever had in my life.  So was her husband, John.

Referring to him in the past tense feels even sadder to me than the reason why I did so:  He died the other night, apparently, in his sleep.  Given that a tumor was causing his brain to play cruel tricks on him, that was probably the most merciful way he could have been taken from this world.

Millie has said she was fortunate to have married such a good man.  He could not have had a better companion in his life, especially in his last days.  And his granddaughter has told me he is one of her role models, for his honesty and kindness. I can vouch for both qualities.

The next time I have dinner, spend a day or a holiday, or simply sit with Millie--alone, or with her daughters and grandchildren--I will be happy, as always, to see her. Still, things won't be the same without John.

All I can do now is to thank him one more time.

Working Up An Appetite

How's this for a new category:  an "appetite-enhancement bike ride"?  Apparently, such a ride was organized for today in Sacramento, CA.

Sacramento "Appetite-Enhancement Ride"

I took such a ride--on Tosca, of course-- after family members and I called each other and before I went to my friend Millie's house. It's not the first time my Thanksgiving has followed such a pattern.  Also, not for the first time, I felt that neither the ride nor the day with Millie and her other friends and family was long enough.  

Who said Thanksgiving Day was a time for grueling centuries (although I'm sure some cyclists did them today!) or dietary restraint?

Somehow I don't think these guys took an appetite-enhancement ride:

Stephanie's (see below) boyfriend Tony, his son  Jason and Stephanie's son Stephen.

For that matter, I don't think these folks did, either:

Millie (on left) with her husband John, her friend Joanne, her daughters Stephanie and Lisa, and  Lisa's friend Louis.

The Joy Of A Staycation: Biking In The City

I like to take a "big" trip every now and again.  But Memorial Day weekend is one of those times I'd prefer not to.  The weather has been warm and sticky; it rained on and off on Friday and Saturday.  But one of the great things about being in New York on a weekend like this one can be seen here:

This is the view down Washington Street, near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.  I was on a bike, and I had it all to myself.  


Ironically, the most congested part of Manhattan may well have been the Greenway along the Hudson River, only a block away.  Tourists always flock to the Intrepid, which is about two miles up the Greenway, for this holiday.  And, it seems that everyone who isn't going there renting a bike, or stopping to sprawl themselves across the Greenway to take photos.


Here is another view from Spring Street:

After my ride, I went to the barbeque my fiend Millie has every year.  I more than made up for all of the calories I burned on my ride!

Giving Thanks on a Quick Morning Ride

I heard it was going to rain today.  So I tried to sneak in an early ride:  just a few miles on Tosca.  It felt about ten degrees colder than it was when I pedaled home last night after teaching in the technical institute.  And yesterday was at least that much colder than the day before.  At least, it seemed that way, for the wind blew hard enough to strip nearly all of the remaining leaves from wizening branches. 


One of the things that amazes me about cycling is that, even after all of these years, I can ride down some street I've pedaled dozens of times before and a moment, an image, will imprint itself in my mind.  Just south of LaGuardia Airport, in East Elmhurst, an elderly black woman stepped, with dignity if not grace, from behind a door on which dark green paint bubbled and the wood splintered and cracked into ashen hues like the ones on her coat, which she expects, or at least hopes, wil get her through another winter.


She is probably thankful for even that.  You might say that I am, too, for being able to ride by and see that, and to be able to ride home, then to Millie's house for Thanksgiving dinner.


I hope yours was at least as good as mine.

A Short Trip for the Fourth

Today I just barely got on my bike:  About a mile to the barbecue at Millie's house, and a bit more coming home.  I surely consumed many times the number of calories I burned up today.   But, hey, isn't that what barbecues are for?  


And they had a cake for my birthday:

Actually, all of those colors were on a plastic piece that covered the cake.  Underneath, everything was chocolate:  creamy cocoa frosting over a dark devil's food cake.   


It's not the sort of food one finds at training tables.  Then again, although I'm working at getting myself into better shape, I'm not training for anything:  I simply want cycling and better conditioning to be facts of my life.   A wise old philosopher once told me, "Life ain't no rehearsal."  I rode yesterday; I will ride again; I have no goal (at least as a cyclist) but to ride my bike again.


Plus, I was happy to be with Millie and John, their kids and grandkids, and Millie's friend Catherine, again.  This day last year marked the first time since I moved to Queens that I didn't spend the Fourth with them.   Millie decided not to have the barbecue because I couldn't make it.  She saw me off that day when I was leaving for Trinidad.


That day, I knew I wouldn't be cycling again for a long time.  My mother said, only half-jokingly, that she knew I really wanted to go for the operation because I was willing to give up, in essence, a season of cycling for it.   But I knew that I wasn't so much giving up a season of cycling as I was embarking on a journey.  Even the riders of the Tour de France have to get off their bikes sometimes; I knew--or at least hoped--that when I got back on mine, I would be on the tour, if you will, that only I could take.  At least some of it would be on my bicycle, I believed.


After eating barbecued chicken, shish kebabs, corn and a few other things one might expect to consume at a barbecue, I took the long way home.  I still haven't mastered the fine art of taking photos while on the bike.  But, here is a shot I took just outside Rainey Park, which is on the East River:

Perhaps one day I'll get it right.  Until then, it's a journey and I'm on it.  At least today's segment, as short as it was, fulfilled me:   I was happy to go where I went and happy to return.