NYC, Part 3: Mystical Transport and other Impressions

 So, as I was saying...

we took this field trip to NYC with my son's sixth grade class--a very small class from a very small school.

One of the most memorable things we experienced was the absolutely beautiful, sensational  opera singer filling the subway station with her voice. I think it was undoubtedly the most mesmerizing, glorious sound I've ever heard. And I didn't understand one word of it. I was just enthralled. We all stopped to stare and listen, like snakes being charmed by  a flute.

Look closely and you'll see her standing alone in the third "frame" from the right.

The subway platform being her stage, she'd take large steps,  first stage right, then stage left, slowly, dramatically. Acoustics in a subway rival Carnegie Hall, no doubt.

Funny how the most memorable sights are not really sights at all. 

They go much deeper into your memory than anything visual. 

Music is a form of transportation all its own. 

Like the cars that take miners deep into the earth in search of coal or diamonds, music can carry our souls into places where treasures lie, 

mysteriously hidden below the surface.

But then there are the quintessential sights 

that leave impressions on our minds. 

One impression I had was that Lady Liberty has mighty masculine arms. 

 Another impression, tested in real time by yours truly: 

Trash cans on ferries are not the answer to the question "What can I hold on to?"

because the answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.

Better to have a strong travel companion at your side. 

 

Better to have a strong travel companion at your side.  Preferably one with masculine arms. 

From the New York Islands: For Better or For Wurst

Did you know that the Statue of Liberty sits on Liberty Island and that, together with Ellis Island, the two comprise one national park? They are just a ferry ride apart. Provided you have sea legs and iron clad innards, it's really a lovely ride.

Oh, I think I made too much of my very mild motion sickness in my last post. I really was fine.  The water was calm and the sun was shining and no middle schooler or their parents were complaining about a thing, so all was peachy-keen.  (Anyone remember that phrase from the 80's?) 

Upon reaching Ellis Island, we sort of moved as a herd with the masses through the museum . Rather symbolic, huh?

First stop: the bathroom.  Would you imagine that a place that once registered all those immigrants at the rate of up to 10,000 people a day might have a ladies' room with more than two stalls in it? 

Me too. 

Two stalls. Twenty ladies in the queue out the door. You do the math. This was after breakfast, a 3.5 hour car ride from home, some coffee, a hearty bag lunch,some water, and a long walk to the ferry. And then the ferry ride itself.

A mighty short venture compared to the one all our ancestors endured from other continents. But still, when you're a woman of my age, having birthed quads (not all at  once, but might as well have), you stay on the lookout for signs that feature a silhouette wearing a dress.

Anyway, enough about continents and incontinence;  shall I show a few pictures? Some of you actually asked to see more.

Really?  You want to see more of someone else's "vacation" pictures? Well, okay, then.

The inside of Ellis Island was much prettier than I'd expected.  Arched windows, grand chandeliers, lots of marble.  Somewhat museum-a-fied over the years, but the original "good bones" are there.

My son was "registering"  by answering questions about his health, age, mental acuity, work skills, gender and marital status, and willingness to work.  He correctly checked that he was healthy, of sound mind (debatable at times), able to build railroads (I'm just making that up), willing to work, and single. Unfortunately, he had accidentally checked that he was a 12 year old GIRL, so was immediately rejected for both employment and housing without a parent.

Had he checked that he was male over 18 and married, he might not have been deported.

Had he checked that he was single over 18, meeting a girlfriend here, he would have been required to marry her before leaving the island.

Depending on the girlfriend options, he might have chosen deportation.

Who knows how many couples got hitched here without getting to know each other better--or first?
Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say.

He says he's glad he didn't have to worry about any of that. Being in a foreign country, jobless, homeless, and quickly saying "I do" in exchange for liberty was an idea he'd never had to entertain before.

Oh, the freedoms we all take for granted.

Sample menu: we told him with his Polish-German heritage, he would probably have chosen kielbasa
or wurst.

Faces upon seeing loved ones again for the first time in a very long time. Look at the little boy saluting on the front row.

Beauty now...

Not the same experience then...

We had to push through crowds. Couldn't stop too long at any one place. Acutely aware of the many languages I heard being spoken around me, though unable to understand any.  Hot. Hungry. Trying to keep an eye on the leader. Afraid of getting lost in the shuffle.

Again, mighty symbolic experience.

Next up: Statue of Liberty ...

Big Apple Trip, Part 2

This would be a trip involving multiple modes of transportation (mainly our feet), multiple bathroom stops for the moms, and multiple times when our leader, the sixth grade teacher (AKA Mr. B), would gather us together, do a head count, and then break into a huge smile when he'd say, "18! Yes! We've never lost anyone on a field trip."

First stop, Penn Station. I kept my camera tucked securely away.
Second stop, a bathroom for one of the moms. It wasn't me, honest!


So, we made our way through Penn Station, having issued the warnings to the kids to keep their electronics and money hidden, to stay close to their chaperons (ie mom or dad, since each student had one or more).

The day was beautiful. This overcast sky kept us comfortably cool for walking to our two main destinations of the day.

I saw our kids snapping photos left and right and thought how times had changed since I was their age. I would have had a Kodak Insta-matic with 24 exposures on it, or 36 since this was a special occasion.

Signs and sights to the left of this sidewalk reminded us of the damage brought to this area by Superstorm Sandy.  Lives and homes have been under reconstruction since that terrible event.

When you're twelve living two or three states away,  events like that seem like a long time ago in a land far, far away.

Aaaah.   The innocence of youth.

Next we boarded the ferry  that would take us to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty .
Funny how I had blocked out the memory of a ferry ride I once took
to Alcatraz Island.  Let's just say it felt like doing time.







I  tried to stay away from the edge of the boat so that my lunch would stay down. The pole had been my "base" to which I clung like a kid not wanting to be "it"in a game of tag.  Because "it" would not be pretty in my version of the game.

 But for a picture, I gave up my post because I wanted the flag and the harbor and part of the skyline in the background.  So I handed the camera to one of the gang and that was that.   Then I went back to my base.

I wasn't the only one on "base."  Here are two more bake sale moms trying not to toss their cookies.















Anyway, there was neither drama nor Dramamine on board, so hooray!

These silly girls pretended to be overcome with emotion upon seeing the Statue. 

So maybe there was a little drama. Hey, they're preteen girls. And this is New York. 

What do you expect? 

Next stop: Ellis Island, where there is a bathroom that doesn't rock.