T Time

 Yesterday’s ride, though short (about 40 km) was interesting. I had previously ridden most of the streets as segments of other rides. Until yesterday, I didn’t realize how close or connected some of them are.  They will, of course, become strands I will weave into new itineraries.

One strange part of the ride began next to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine. (Don’t you feel smarter just reading that?) There begins this street:

A few blocks later, it runs along the Amtrak and Metro North rail lines and becomes this:

So how did Sackett lose one “T”? Did he/she/they not show up for the 4 p.m. ceremony? Or did the railroad’s builders need a “t” to turn a rack of land* into a track?

The street continues along its way beside the railway and, at Hering Avenue in Morris Park, regains its previous identity:

So how did Sackett regain its second “t?” Hmm…The neighborhood, Morris Park, has been an Italian enclave for more than a century. One thing I know about my people is that we drink coffee. (Growing up, I heard, “Tea is for sick people.”) So I imagine it wouldn’t have been difficult to get at least one of us to give up a “t.”

Anyway, I had coffee before the ride. I probably didn’t need it:  The sunshine and brisk breezes woke me up!

*—That, I imagine, is how the two sides of land might look with the trench, but without the tracks, running through them.

An Explorer Joins Her Ancestors

What I do whenever I arrive in a foreign place or a place I have not been to before, is that I have a tendency to explore--either get on a bicycle and ride all over or I walk all over.  

Did I say that? If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might think I did.  But someone far better-known uttered it during the course of an NBCBLK interview in April 2018.

That she had a tendency to "explore" makes perfect sense when you realize that she was a pioneer:  She not only played characters (or actual people) who were strong and assertive, she also took the sorts of roles women of her race and background were expected to play and imbued them with depth and substance:  sometimes more than their writers or directors afforded them.

Right now, I am having a hard time believing she's gone, even though she was 96 years old.  Just the other day, I listened to an interview with her on the release of her memoir.

She wasn't just another great actress or beautiful woman:  Because of her, we have Diahann Carroll, Pam Grier, Halle Berry, Angela Bassett and Viola Davis.  I say as much because her talents and determination would not settle for anything less than being defined on her own terms.  

I am speaking of none other than Cicely Tyson, who passed yesterday. Her family and agent gave no details about her death.   Whatever the circumstances, I still have a difficult time believing it:  When I heard her on Tuesday, I had little doubt she'd live to 100 and beyond.

We could talk about all of her great roles and advocacy.  But I'll leave you with this:

Tell me, who has ever looked better with or on a bike?