summer in the city

Another lighted city. An always-lighted city. How would you describe New York? I visited the City (as we called it in Connecticut) regularly growing up -- striding deliberately down Fifth Avenue, gaping at the Plaza's extravagance, clapping at Broadway shows, and gazing at the view from the South Tower of the World Trade Center. My mother took me and my sister, in turn, to find our wedding dresses.

Last weekend marked my first visit with my husband, and I saw the City with fresh eyes (and sore feet). We explored more neighborhoods than I had before, venturing into Brooklyn and touring the tenement museum on the Lower East Side. We enjoyed a mix of take-out lunches and fine dining, local ale and French wine. Here are some of my favorite photos -- our attempts to capture New York's je ne sais quoi.

The sculptural trees of Bryant Park. Next to the New York Public Library, a great place for people watching and sandwich munching.

Fresh juice at Union Square Greenmarket. We carried a giant bottle of grape-apple around with us all afternoon.

The Flatiron Building. Our view during Friday lunch, below.

Gourmet pizza and fresh mozzarella from Eataly, Mario Batali's epic Italian food emporium. I became so overwhelmed that I just stood by the door while Wes fetched the olive bread.

The roofs of New York ... as seen from the Empire State Building.

Waves of cobblestones at St. Mark's in the Bowery.

Sesame pancake and fresh (but still fried!) pork dumplings in Chinatown.

Enjoying an indie coffee break at Oslo in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

The cheese plate at Rye, also in Williamsburg. I had lovely spring pea ravioli and Wes enjoyed duck with couscous and chutney. This place was elegant but not pretentious -- a perfect Saturday night setting for weary walkers.

We rode the Staten Island Ferry on a foggy, damp Sunday morning. It afforded views of Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Brooklyn, and ... don't leave it out ... New Jersey.

The city's newest park, The High Line. We walked 16 blocks on this elevated park after a few New York friends recommended it. Can you see why?

visit from a foodie friend

Sometimes Saturday is like stepping out of time. It’s not a day of rest, like Sunday; it’s a day to get things done, but not the things you would normally do. And sometimes it’s a day to see your city all over again, or explore a new neighborhood, or leave altogether. Last weekend my dear friend Michelle came to see another lighted city, its monuments, and our life here. And to make ricotta blintzes with blueberry sauce.

networks

In an era of online social networks, it’s easy to quickly link to half a dozen people whom you haven’t met but with whom you share a common profession, passion, or pumpkin pie recipe. Facebook allows me to keep in touch with friends across the country—in places I’ve lived and places I haven’t. But there’s still something to be said for the synergy of physical proximity.

This is often acknowledged in the context of friendship, but I’ve been surprised by how much it’s true for professional networking as well. DC feels smaller all the time. There is something valuable in “running into” the same people over and over again at different events around the city. And people seem more interested in grabbing coffee if they’ve seen you in person somewhere else first. In other words, the old job-hunting tip—move where you want to live and print a local address on your resume—still holds weight. I was thinking about this in the context of David Brooks’ recent column about the power of American networks. He says,

“ … creativity is not a solitary process. It happens within networks. It happens when talented people get together, when idea systems and mentalities merge.”

Even though it’s easy to connect with American networks without being physically in America, Brooks might argue that the local social context matters, and that’s why the U.S. will continue to draw enterprising individuals:

“America hosts the right kind of networks — ones that are flexible and intense. Study after study suggests that America is one of those societies with high social trust. … The crucial fact about the new epoch is that creativity needs hubs. Information networks need junction points. The nation that can make itself the crossroads to the world will have tremendous economic and political power.”

citified hospitality

I’m continuing to think about what “hospitality” really looks like, especially in our pseudo-urban context. This reflection from a woman in Vancouver was a good read, mainly because it’s a story. She says,

“The new reality of city living meant being in close proximity to our neighbours and interacting with them on a daily, personal basis—not just when we want to conveniently say hello.

Although I know those who would disagree with me, I have found it easier to be neighbourly while living in the city than in the suburbs. Since space is limited in the city, I notice that people tend to congregate and cross paths regularly in public facilities such as parks, libraries, community centers, and transit—whereas in the suburbs, people tend to spend more time in the private 'playgrounds' of their homes (basements, rec rooms) and backyards.”

I felt this familiarity last week; a sense that my particular part of Arlington was really a neighborhood. I saw a good friend at the grocery store and an acquaintance on the Metro. Last night I spotted a former colleague in the crosswalk. I like the sense of shared public space here, and I hope it continues to challenge me to share my own space.

dinks

It’s 2010 and we’ve officially left behind the “transition year” that was 2009. We’ve left behind the odd scraps of income, the piecing together of part-time jobs. We’ve settled into a small apartment, parked our Honda, and met our neighbors’ new dog. We live in Arlington, and we are DINKS—double-income, no kids (no dog, either). So here’s to a year of working hard, trying new recipes (tonight’s failed), hosting new friends, and enjoying the city. And each other.

week-end-ing

This reflection is an antidote to my previous post:

We’ve settled in to a bit of a weekend routine, and it’s my favorite time to be out and about in the neighborhood. I’ve walked up and down our high-rise-ridden avenue, and out away from the traffic through quiet, tree-lined streets with tidy brick colonials and bungalows. We had a few friends over for a relaxed Saturday lunch and dipped our feet in the pool across the street. They brought a blueberry pie.

Our new church meets in the evenings on Sunday, and I really enjoy being home in the morning. It’s the only day out of seven that I can ease into. After a quiet day, it seems natural to close the weekend in worship and fellowship, and to go out into the week reminded of God’s active grace.

workaholism: the way we live now

David Brooks wrote a great column today on the lifestyles of people like Sonia Sotomayor—people who exhibit the essence of success in a meritocracy. Even in the middle of recounting Sotomayor’s remarkable accomplishments, Brooks says, “Her biographers paint a picture of a life now that is frantically busy, fulfilling and often aloof … It’s the story of people in a meritocracy that gets more purified and competitive by the year, with the time demands growing more and more insistent.”

He goes on to say, “These profiles give an authentic glimpse of a style of life that hasn’t yet been captured by a novel or a movie—the subtle blend of high-achiever successes, trade-offs and deep commitments to others. In the profiles, you see the intoxicating lure of work, which provides an organizing purpose and identity.”

The column clearly describes what this whole town is about: work. And finding your identity in your work. Brooks seems concerned, but doesn’t offer an antidote or a deeper analysis about what workaholism means for society. (Maybe it was that darn word count limit!) And I’m curious about his contention that it hasn’t been “captured by a novel or a movie.” Are there movies and novels out there that do capture it? I’ll have to think about this one. It’s possible there isn’t … because showing a modern politician, businessperson, or journalist checking their Blackberry just isn’t that entertaining.

the garden grows!

Here's a rainy-day shot of my little city garden. It's got marigolds, fuschia, potato vine, and a steady coleus. I've harvested the poor mint half to death (mojitos! iced tea!), and the oregano loves all the thunderstorms. My basil is holding out for the good hot days of July & August, saving its best for when fresh tomatoes roll in. The marigolds are shy in this shot; a new round of blooms should come in a couple days!

welcome wagon

We’ve undertaken some proverbial church-hopping during our first 3 weeks here in Arlington, and we have been blown away by the hospitality and welcoming spirit of Christians in the city. It’s confirmed for us the benefits of smaller churches, where newcomers are (hopefully!) instantly recognized and greeted. The downside is that we now feel attached to several wonderful congregations.

We’ll do our best not to over-analyze the process and to trust the Lord that he will bless us with good teaching and strong community wherever we go. And we’ll keep telling new acquaintances about the little church we left behind in Iowa.

on leaving the midwest

Our move from a little city to a big city is fast approaching. We’re not just changing towns; we’re changing regions. The people, cities, and landscape of the Midwest have nurtured me for most of my (brief) adult life … so I think some appreciative words are in order before I head “home” to the East Coast.

Wide-open spaces: (cue Dixie Chicks) The birds here stand out against the sky—there’s nothing to compete with their profiles. The robins love the tree beyond our balcony. But the hawks and crows I notice more often, circling and gliding over the interstate. Open sky means knowing where the sun is, and I watch its arc rise and fall with the seasons. At first, all this sky made me feel a bit insecure, and the land seemed so naked. For me, no hills or mountains made places seem like the “middle of nowhere”—even Chicago.

Honest, hard-working people: I know this sounds like a presidential campaign cliché (and boy, 2008 was a long year!) but in large part it’s true. People in the Midwest are friendly, and not just because they have to be. At my favorite little grocery, the high schoolers look me in the eye and say thank you after placing all my bags in the trunk. Both sides of my husband’s family hail from Iowa, and farming stories explain why hard work is still valued and expected.

A great public library: This is more specific, but the outstanding city public library is one of the things I appreciate most about where we live. It means free movie rentals on Friday nights, copies of new nonfiction, and a quiet place to spend a little time in between errands. For my friends who are moms, it’s a common outing. The playground and coffee shop next door make for a trifecta of fantastic gathering spaces. The community really treasures its library, and it shows. I’ll miss it!

There are many more specific things I love here: our active little church, every friend, the squash-and-peppers farmers market, conversations in coffeehouses, raindrops on roses...

on writing on trends

Do you ever read something and say aloud, “Only in America?” It’s one of my favorite phrases (thanks Mom), and I muttered it after reading about this yoga trend in The New York Times “Style” section. I love this part of the paper; it so perfectly encapsulates a certain kind of city lifestyle by noting various “trends” which do not occur anywhere else. As I read, I like to pretend it’s really an Onion-esque commentary on the faux-urbane. But the articles are actually serious.

After I read that article, I asked my husband: “Guess what you’ll only see in America?” Without missing a beat he said, “dog yoga.”

seek the city

Jeremiah 29:5, 7
“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce … seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

I’ve been considering this verse as we prepare to live in/around Washington, DC, because it’s a city preoccupied with national policies, international events, and just power in general. The city itself seems secondary, and a lot of its residents are just passing through. What will it mean to “seek the welfare of the city” there? What will it mean in the context of a church community?

This interview offers some good thoughts on the church engaging city leaders, instead of being set 'against' local government.

I also like the part of the verse about planting gardens and eating their produce. Scrappy backyard, please!

why "another lighted city"?

This is a personal blog, and the title is derived from my initials. As I begin writing, I am preparing to leave one city (a small university town) and establish a home in another: our nation’s capital. The title also reminds me that this world ultimately is not my home, and a better place is prepared.

When I was growing up, my mom took me to New York once or twice a year. I remember staying up in the hotel room, sitting up against the window, and peering out at all the lights.