Showing posts with label Bronx. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bronx. Show all posts
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Looking Toward the Sky
Yesterday, I left the looming walls of the office pod, rode the length of the river and into the Bronx to help renovate an elementary school library. We painted carts and chalkboards and walls with the purple and green paint, I learned how to use an electric sander, I even 'gardened', as the spunky school librarian, Roseanna, liked to call it -- meaning, I cleaned a bunch of fake plants with soap and water. I know fake plants are tacky, she said. But these kids don't have a playground. They don't see anything green. It didn't seem tacky at all.
Of course, I had to know everything. Which books were the favorites. (Captain Underpants. American Girl.) How many students. (800. 6 classes a day. 35 students at a time.) How she became a librarian. (At some point the principal gave her the library to 'see what she could do with it'. She decided she better get a degree in library sciences.)
And then the stories came. A school of 800 students with only a handful of bookshelves, no computers in the entire school until last year, when, after years of grant writing, Roseanna finally received $10,000 and 25 laptops.
Then the story of deciding to host a book fair and having everyone tell her to set her goal low because of the demographics of her students in this low-income community she works in. She dismissed them, laughed, set her goals 'too high' according to popular opinion, and, on the days of the fair, doubled the goal.
Then the story of calling every parent in the school she could get a hold of and walking to every local business owner in the community so she could host an after school reading event that ended up being standing room only, exploding into the hallways and adjacent classrooms.
Then the story of how she wrapped 800 books last Christmas and gave every student their very own book.
And finally the story of how she kept getting emails from someone named Caroline Kennedy, surely not that Caroline Kennedy, until it was that Caroline Kennedy at the security desk one morning, planning to visit her 'little' library and her 25 new laptops.
I know there are many schools in the country like this. I know there are many amazing, awesome, aren't we so incredibly blown away fortunate we have people like this in the world, Roseanna's. But, I loved the passion and energy here. Yes, there has been a concern of not enough at this school but I didn't hear any stories about that. Only about the abundance. The doubling fundraiser. The from-zero-to-twenty-five laptops. The feet to the pavement, word of mouth spiral, and the book event that spilled out and ran the hallways. And, finally, I heard about Roseanna's future goals, a long, inspiring, then this, then this, and then this, list, that ended here:
And then, I'm going to get a bookstore built in this community. I want every child here to know what it's like to walk into a store and buy a book.
I have no doubt she will.
At the end of the day, the group of us sat down on the new rug, which, again, needed to be green, because Roseanna wanted it to look like grass, and we all agreed that it did feel an awful lot like being out in an open field. So it was decided we had to take a photo of all of us, head to head, looking toward the sky.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Forever Guessing
I live in a city I love very much but it can feel loud, crowded, plastered in concrete. Sometimes I am desperate for relief. I need to see some green.
I don't have a car and escaping to nearby quiet can turn into an epic journey. A 26 mile trip to my home town, with all its various modes of transport and transfers takes just over 2 hours. Technically, a certain Kenyan can run there faster (Geoffrey Mutai's fastest marathon time is 2 hours, 3 minutes, and 2 seconds.)
So, in an effort to find the nature I crave, I have come to accept the travel time. I wait on oppressively hot subway platforms, stick to greasy subway seats. I take the Sunday Times and read it cover to cover. I devour entire books. I make it happen.
Today Tyler and I journeyed one and a half hours to Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx to hike its trails. We crossed the breezy fields, passed a cricket team clad in crisp, white uniforms. A haze of hamburger smoke hovered over three generation family barbecues. We made it to the hare and tortoise marked trail, crossed over the highway (yes, in New York City, hikes involve crossing highways) and found complete solitude. Quite possibly because no one else in their right minds would take a hike...in the Bronx...in a wet-blanket soup of weather. But I am nothing if not determined.
As we approached the end of our here we go loop-de-loop, we were greeted with the best kind of sound. Not the call of birds or the scamper of deer but a sound unique to a city full of life. In a mess of trees and raspberry bushes and runaway black-eyed-susans in pink: a band bursting with song.
I don't know any other city in the world that can boast hiking trails complete with live concerts. It's why I love New York. It's what keeps me forever guessing, never knowing what I'll find.
I don't have a car and escaping to nearby quiet can turn into an epic journey. A 26 mile trip to my home town, with all its various modes of transport and transfers takes just over 2 hours. Technically, a certain Kenyan can run there faster (Geoffrey Mutai's fastest marathon time is 2 hours, 3 minutes, and 2 seconds.)
So, in an effort to find the nature I crave, I have come to accept the travel time. I wait on oppressively hot subway platforms, stick to greasy subway seats. I take the Sunday Times and read it cover to cover. I devour entire books. I make it happen.
Today Tyler and I journeyed one and a half hours to Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx to hike its trails. We crossed the breezy fields, passed a cricket team clad in crisp, white uniforms. A haze of hamburger smoke hovered over three generation family barbecues. We made it to the hare and tortoise marked trail, crossed over the highway (yes, in New York City, hikes involve crossing highways) and found complete solitude. Quite possibly because no one else in their right minds would take a hike...in the Bronx...in a wet-blanket soup of weather. But I am nothing if not determined.
As we approached the end of our here we go loop-de-loop, we were greeted with the best kind of sound. Not the call of birds or the scamper of deer but a sound unique to a city full of life. In a mess of trees and raspberry bushes and runaway black-eyed-susans in pink: a band bursting with song.
I don't know any other city in the world that can boast hiking trails complete with live concerts. It's why I love New York. It's what keeps me forever guessing, never knowing what I'll find.
Last stop on the 1 train |
Hazy cricket |
The Hare and Tortoise Trail |
Sun sparkle through these skinny trees |
Proof New York City is not entirely concrete |
Surprise! |
Labels:
1 Train,
Bronx,
cricket,
hike,
Music,
Photographs,
trees,
Van Cortlandt Park
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