Entry, Late In The Day

Yesterday, for the first time in a week, we had more than a couple of hours with temperatures above freezing (0C or 32F).  Breezy still, the day refracted hues of sea and sun stretching into, and stretching, the end of the day.

A late afternoon ride along the North Shore meant riding home into the sunset along the Malcolm X pier between Flushing and LaGuardia Airport.  I think of passengers on descending flights and how some of them are coming to this city for the first time--and how the skyline they've seen in countless images is so close, but is still so far away--something as clear yet impenetrable as the window of a plane keeps it all even more distant from them, at least for the time being, than the lattice of tree limbs along the cold gray water.

Do they get to see the skyline as a reflection of the water that channeled all of us--from the Maspeth tribe to Milennial tech workers--into streets where we can get lost, or find ourselves?

He Understands The Value Of A Bike

Bicycles are extremely valuable pieces of equipment.  Quite often, they are more valuable than the motor cars their owners possess.

That insight comes from William Hart.  That is, Judge William Hart to you—and me.

The Bristol Crown Court magistrate made that observation in sentencing Michael Whatley and Steven Fry to 66 and 4O months, respectively, for charges that include stealing several high-end bikes from Friction Cycles in Bristol.

For that statement alone, I would be willing to sponsor Judge Hart were he willing to abdicate Her Majesty’s justice system and bring his wisdom to this land of anti-vaxers. Of course, it’s difficult to imagine why he’d want to do such a thing—or that he would need sponsorship from me, or anyone else.

I am guessing—or at least hoping—that such a wise and worldly person would understand that the value of bikes to their owners, whether intrinsic or relative to their cars, is more than monetary—especially for folks like yours truly who don’t have a car, or even a driver’s license.  

If nothing else, the Honorable William Hart merits my respect—and, I am sure, that of many readers of this blog—simply for understanding that bike theft should be taken as seriously as other kinds of crimes: something too few of his colleagues, or law enforcement officers, in the United States do.

My First View, From A Bike

Yesterday I rode Zebbie, my 1984 Mercian King of Mercia, through the brownstones and rowhouses of Queens and Brooklyn.  Such a ride could easily involve a trip across the Kosciuszko Bridge, now that it has one of the better bike-pedestrian lanes in this city.

And so it was yesterday.  Tourists on Citibikes almost always ride across the Brooklyn Bridge for the views.  But no longtime New York resident does that.  Rather, in-the-know Big Apple cyclists opt for the Williamsburg Bridge or, if we simply want a visually interesting ride, the Kosciuszko.

In the spring and summer, the view consists mainly of skyscrapers foregrounded by trees and the factories and warehouses along Newtown Creek.  But the denuded limbs of winter reveal a landscape of differing verticalities. (Does that sound like a geeky phrase or what?)

When I lived in Manhattan and Brooklyn, one of my worst fears was--moving to Queens.  Mind you, I took many good rides, and enjoyed other activities, in "the world's borough."  But my first glimpse of it came from my family's car, en route to visit relatives:

Tell me, how would you feel about a place if the first thing you saw in it was a cemetery?  I'm guessing that I probably saw it for the first time on a winter day like yesterday, with leafless trees screening, but not shielding, the tombstones.  

But I did eventually move to Queens--to Long Island City, not far from where I live now.  Since then, I've visited Calvary Cemetery.  I know that there are tours of some of this city's necropoli, like Greenwood and Woodlawn.  Anyone who has a taste for such things (which I do, sometimes) should also go to Calvary.  Largely before of it, there are--wait for it--more dead than living people in Queens. (Thomas Wolfe once claimed, "Only the dead know Brooklyn."  What would he have said about Queens?)  In fact, more people are buried in Calvary than in any other American cemetery--or than live in Chicago!

Like Greenwood and Woodlawn, Calvary is the final resting place for some famous and infamous people, as well as everyday New Yorkers.  Also in common with them, Calvary began after the 1840s cholera epidemic: At that time, most of Queens and the farther reaches of Brooklyn and the Bronx (the locations of Greenwood and Woodlawn, respectively) were rural. And there wasn't enough room left in Manhattan to bury the victims of that epidemic, so the city mandated that they be interred elsewhere. 

All of those cemeteries have chapels large enough for masses or services.  But Calvary has a full-blown cathedral (not visible in these photos) at least somewhat reminiscent of the Sacre Coeur in Paris.

It's ironic that those same trees I saw yesterday obscure the tombstones in spring and summer.  Could their lush leafage during those seasons be nourished by the "residents" of Calvary?