A Change Is Better Than A Rest

On August 13, 2007 by Eden M. Kennedy

Jackson and I are back home now, and that was one hell of a trip we took to Grandma’s house. I had a major awakening concerning some old familial mind-fucks that I’m not going to sum up just yet, but just as I swung between the extremes of either utter silence and despair or the simple camaraderie of kitchen table gallows humor, I had the fun of watching my aging mother swing between being lovely and chipper and lucid or being utterly disoriented at the sight of her three adult children at the foot of her bed and why did we keep rolling her over to wash her butt? Madam, I’m sure you’ll agree with the rest of us who prefer to breathe air in which the parts per million of Citrus Magic outweigh the underlying bouquet of Gorilla House in August when we say that personal hygiene benefits everyone.

Speaking of funk, last month my little family spent two weeks in New York City and boy howdy! We know whereof we speak when it comes to the aromas of humanity. Shall we begin our little tour back in time? Do lets.

Staten Island Ferry 1
Here are Jack and Uncle Stinky on the Staten Island Ferry embarrassing my son with their rendition of something that was probably popular in the 1940s, judging by those cornball expressions.

Staten Island Ferry 2
Jackson can be seen here twirling one finger next to his temple, the international sign for “You’re crazy and I hate you for embarrassing me like this. I’m only forgiving you because you bought me this delicious pretzel.”

Staten Island Ferry 3
Hey, aren’t orange and blue Mets colors? It’s these partisan paint jobs that tear our communities apart, I’m surprised an outraged Yankees fan hasn’t taken up arms against this blatant act of paintular favoritism.

Staten Island Ferry 5
Lower Manhattan, la de da. On the lower right you can see the Staten Island and Governor’s Island ferry terminals, and some no doubt culturally unimportant bridge in the distance.

After we got off the ferry we headed toward South Street Seaport to show Jackson the big boats. After a couple of blocks, Jackson reverted to a lifeless infant, raised his arms toward me with a pitiful expression, and cried, “Picky.” “PICKY?!” I shouted. (Whenever he wants a piggy back ride I pretend that he’s asking for the practical equivalent of a balloon ride over the North Pole. Then he laughs because he likes to be teased, and then I push him into oncoming traffic. No, just kidding, I usually give him a piggyback ride first.)

Of course, most six-year-olds aren’t getting carried around on their mother’s back like baby bonobo monkeys, thus setting off a dumbfoundedness bomb that triggers disbelief in every fourth adult within a ten block radius. My brother-in-law took a direct hit:

“Can you imagine Dad giving us piggyback rides when we were six?” scoffed Uncle Stinky.

“Walk!” yelled Jack, imitating their father.

“Keep up!” yelled Uncle Stinky.

“Indian file!” yelled Jack.

“Yeah, well, this is the only exercise I get these days, humping around a forty-five pound kid.” My reply fell on deaf ears. Really, though, try it. After a short time your rippling deltoids will speak for themselves. (It’s kind of creepy in a How to Get Ahead in Advertising way at first, but you’ll get used to it.)

Anyway, I had to put Jackson down to take a picture of that building up there that you’ve already scrolled past, the one with all the numbers on it. At first glance I thought it was some sort of seventies New Math metric system calendar, or maybe a bold social commentary on a social ill that then got cleared up during the Koch administration, but it turns out that it’s actually fairly straightforward clock. Of course, twenty feet down the street Jackson asked me to pick him up again so I swung him around onto my back with one burly arm, despite the inevitable upswell of sarcasm. Someday when Jack and his brother are withering away I’ll do handsprings into their hospital room, hoist a nurse on each arm, and say something . . . witty.

South Street Seaport
As we reached South Street and I awoke from my narcissistic fantasy, the four of us found a nice sidewalk restaurant and a table with some shade. After everyone ordered, Jackson and I walked down to the water to look at some of the boats up close. I am always impressed with giant anchors, and Jackson was impressed with a bulldog who had collapsed flat onto the sidewalk, limbs akimbo, and was panting as though suffocation was imminent. Because I have a bulldog of my own I know that these flat-faced dogs have trouble processing enough oxygen and when it gets hot they can collapse. But since I’m not a judgmental asshole, I just went up to the guy holding the dog’s leash and said, “Hey! Can we say hi to your dog?” The guy shrugged. Jackson let the dog sniff his fist, then gave it a tentative pat on the shoulder. “We love bulldogs, we have one at home,” I went on like some sort of desperately friendly tourist. “Is your dog male or female?” The guy shrugged again. “I forget,” he said. You know when you get to that point with someone who doesn’t want to be bothered where you can either cut him some slack and take off, or you can press the point until he’s forced to give you a straight answer? “So what’s your dog’s name?” I persisted. The dog panted. The guy looked at me for like a minute and then finally said, “Clementine.” Jackson gave the dog one more pat, which she acknowledged with a little lick to his hand before returning to her desperate bid to breathe. “Thanks!” I said to the guy and we walked off.

iPod sharing
I gave Jackson a green iPod shuffle for his birthday and put 54 of his favorite songs on it. Here he is introducing Uncle Stinky to some of the highlights of his collection, including Blue Oyster Cult, Pink, and The Beastie Boys (clean version). To his enormous credit, Uncle Stinky was totally down with everything Jackson played for him.

South Street Pedestrians
She looked a little lost. I should have told her to come on in, the calamari was excellent.

Union Square Capoeira 1

Naturally, after I loaded this photo onto flickr I got a comment from the admin of “Random Butt Cracks” asking me to add this photo to their group. I declined. It seemed like sort of a heartless request.

So after Uncle Stinky went back home to Queens we decided to join the humanity in Union Square watching this group of Brazilians play Capoeira.

Union Square Capoeira 3
Maybe a dozen fighters stood in a circle clapping and chanting while two of them would come into the center and show off some moves — lots of high kicks and ducking and low leg sweeps. A couple of the guys were really strong and you could tell they could kick someone’s ass if need be, but they kept it friendly.

Union Square Capoeira 2
One guy could do back flips. Also, dig those red toe-sock shoes.

Union Square Capoeira 5
Singing, clapping, chanting, sparring, sweating.

Union Square Capoeira 4
People were crowding so close around their circle that the fighters didn’t have a lot of room to flaunt their stuff, but they managed. This is also about the point where the betrayal of The New Lady Shoes that I had insisted on wearing because I thought I could magically will them with my mind not to give me blisters became acute. and would ultimately lead to Jack declaring, “You know why I love you so much? Because you’re so fucking stubborn.”

Union Square Capoeira 6
Jesus, it was 1,000 degrees out and all those people were wearing LONG PANTS. Also, gorgeous there in the middle gave me the stink eye for taking her picture. Sorry, Gisele, I know you’re part of the group and don’t want to be singled out for your looks, but I’d already taken pictures of everyone else! It was just your turn.

Relaxing with some naked DS
Sensible Californians that we are, we went back to the apartment, turned on the A/C and took off all our clothes to play a little naked Nintentdo DS.

Central Park Zoo 1
If you go to the Central Park Zoo, you will probably try to take a picture of the amazing polar bear tank, but you probably will not succeed in capturing how ravishing is a polar bear who swims straight at you, rolls over, pushes off the glass like an Olympic relay racer, and paddles away.

Central Park Zoo 2
Whippety, whappety, fwip, fwap, WHAM!

Central Park Zoo 3
I guess if that face hole were appropriately child-sized, instead of big enough to pass Beatrix Potter’s coffin through, some joker would go and get his head wedged in there and they’d need two firetrucks and a sledgehammer to get him out. So the hole is made too big and humanity is once again saved from itself.

Central Park Zoo 4
There’s a New York City cow for you. She does what she needs to do and she doesn’t care if you’re watching.

Empty Ceiling Fixture
Speaking of being watched, this is the empty light fixture above the bed in Grandma Susan’s apartment; it looks at you in wonder as you lay there scratching yourself and trying to decide between Sports Center or the Best of the Robin Byrd Show.

Henry and Jackson
At some point I insisted that everyone put their clothes back on and we caught a train out to Alice’s house. I took exactly four pictures while we were there and Henry and Jackson were complete blurs in three of them. So this is the picture where Jackson was sitting still, saying, “Henry, my Mom is taking a picture.” Henry, sensibly, ignored me and continued to instruct Jackson in the many destructive uses of Matchbox cars. Then I put away my camera and went to sit in Alice’s extremely pleasant back yard with her and Jack and Charlie the dog and drink beer. Then Jack took over the kitchen and shooed Alice and I off to the charmingly named Bottle King for more wine. The rest of the evening was a blur of pork and pinot grigio. Later, Jackson crammed himself into the guest room’s queen-sized futon with Jack and me instead of camping out on the floor like a normal person, and I awoke after six hours of fitful sleep with a monstrous headache and a surly demeanor, which no doubt made me a less than pleasant houseguest that morning. I’m pretty sure Alice forgives me, if I used the memory wiper correctly.

Kent Library Book Sale
We also spent a few nights up at Grandma Susan’s condo in Connecticut, where it was hotter than Satan’s barbecue but people were still putting on their long pants (!) and browsing the tables at the town library’s annual book sale, where I picked up several good children’s book and had a nice chat with illustrator Vickie Chess, who signed one of her books for Jackson but respectfully and firmly declined to be photographed.

Then we went to get ice cream. I
need to remember that ice cream in hot weather is kind of a drag; Jackson’s was all melted down his arm before he knew it, and the whole thing ended up in the trash. Then we had to buy a bottle of water just to pour it all over his hands, and because we only had a couple of napkins he ended up wiping everything all over me.

Fortunately, some nice people invited us over to the house they were renting so Jackson could bathe cool off in the unheated pool . . .

Tractor Driving
. . . and then haul some hay bales down to the lower forty.

Magic Show
He repaid the kindness shown to him with a magic show.

Squirrel Watch '07
The next morning, SquirrelWatch ’07 began in earnest, after a grownup was found who could reach the bag of unshelled peanuts and throw a few handfuls onto the porch as bait.

NY Public Library 1
Holy pig-in-a-blanket, this post is getting long. Still with me? Back in the city the skies opened up while we were strolling around midtown after a delightful matinee of The Lion King. We bought three umbrellas, then said screw it and went to sit on the library steps until the storm let up. Jack, the business owner, took the opportunity to check his messages. Someone somewhere was fucking things up, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, 3,000 miles away. Also, this is the last photographic evidence of those $200 sunglasses on his head, which an hour later were lost in a force-five gale outside of Penn Station.

NY Public Library 2
Staying dry, staying fly, and watching the world go by.

NY Public Library 3
Pretty much the worst street pretzel I’ve ever had, most of which ended up being “saved for later” in my bag, with some unpleasant consequences.

Yankees Game 1
The cheapest Yankees tickets we could get were for a game against Toronto. I got stuck sitting next to this knowledgeable but truly enormous man whose elbow kept jabbing me in the sternum every time he took a picture of the field with his expensive camera. He was talking esoterica with his buddy on the other side, and I suddenly felt like such a chick pulling out my camera to take a picture of Derek Jeter coming up to bat.

Yankees Game 2
This kid had an incredible mouth on him. Seriously, he was bellowing. And then of course Matsui hit a home run and the place when apeshit and Jackson started crying and trying to crawl inside my shirt. Yankee stadium is unbelievably loud for a wee, delicate Yankees fan at his first game who wanted to go home in the third inning.

Yankees Game 3
So what did Jack do to cheer him up?

Yankees Game 4
And whose responsibility did it become to go off and buy another bottle of water and become a human towel rack?

Yankees Game 5
We left in the seventh inning, which was fine, the Yankees were winning and Jack was happy to have taken Jackson to Yankee Stadium before they tore it down. This is the new stadium they’re building basically right next door. Luxury boxes, whatever.

Jack Wolf and Jackson
An old family friend, Jack Wolf, gets the 411 on how to beat Kirby Squeak Squad. He used to write for TV Guide and knows about 8,000,000 more things about television and movies than you do. Jackson was partially named for him and he’s always doing nice things for Jackson, like buying him a subscription to National Geographic Kids, and I am really happy I have this picture of them together.

Grandma Susan
And so is lovely Grandma Susan.

Museum of Natural History 1
Okay, so one day not during this trip to New York but during the one I just took last week to Denver to see my mom? I took Jackson and his thirteen-year-old cousin, John, to the movies to see Underdog, which was terrible. Not even the shrewdly cast and excellent bad-guy team of Peter Dinklage and Patrick Warburton could save this boring, boring, boring film. However, there was this one scene between fucking Jim Belushi and the kid who played his kid, and the kid realizes that he doesn’t need to push his dad away, they can be friends.

Museum of Natural History 2
And I’m kind of pissed that this profound personal realization came on the back of such a trite, B-movie vehicle, but there it is. I saw that my father had been so suffocating and controlling that the only defense I ever had was to push him away; then I began to use withdrawal as a way to control my own situations, and for safety’s sake I kept everyone at arm’s length. And then six months ago I ended up in therapy trying to figure out why I felt so distant from everyone in my life and had this weird heavy feeling in my chest all the time.

Museum of Natural History 3
So after the movie I took the kids back to grandma’s house, and my brother, Tim, asked me how the movie was and then we talked. It felt sort of weird and uncomfortable at first, to be standing in my parents house having an open conversation and expressing honest opinions, but I did it, and it felt good, and I could tell my brother was digging our new connection.

Museum of Natural History 4
So I tried it with my other brother, Chris, who I’ve always had problems talking to because we’re so different. But that worked, too. YEARS of distance between us closed up in a snap.

Museum of Natural History 5
Hopping, hopping, hopping . . .

Museum of Natural History 6
Jack: “Okay, I want you to listen to me: you need to stop running around and chill the fuck out.”

Jackson: “You said a bad word!”

Jack: “I know I said a bad word, motherfucker!”

Museum of Natural History 6
Anyway, that heavy feeling in my chest has since lifted. So yay for several things, one being the timely application of therapy, two being able to move through the death of a parent with renewed understanding of myself and our relationship, and three having forgiving, perseverent family and friends.

Museum of Natural History 8
“Jackson, go stand in front of the tiger like he’s going to eat you!”

Museum of Natural History 9
“No, like THIS!”

Museum of Natural History 10
Life feeds on life.

Museum of Natural History 11
If I were a regular person who tried to keep her blog posts under 10,000 words and not abuse her readership, I’d stop here.

Finally, on our last weekend in NYC, I told Jack that I needed a grownup day for myself to try and see some New York friends, and he agreed to take Jackson over to Uncle Stinky’s and they’d meet me later, around 7:00, for dinner. So I made a date to have lunch with my friend Pam and then walk up to MoMA, which I hadn’t been to in like ten years. We ran into Philip on the street and shanghaied him into coming along. Opinion was divided on the Richard Serra exhibit. Personally, if you’re looking for threatening mass and scale, I kind of preferred the anchors at the seaport. Philip thinks Serra’s a scam artist. I think Pam was leaning that way, too, although discussing it later with my friend John, who believes that Serra’s a genius and that no one else creates such visceral forms (or rather, forms that make you scared to get too near them in case they fall on you and kill you), I had to admit that my reaction to Serra’s work was exactly what the artist wanted.

Pam at MoMA
Pam says this is her new favorite picture of her neck.

53d St. Sculpture
Thirty minutes of Googling later: it’s a Damien Hirst.

First Steps, Union Square Playground
I made it back downtown and met Jack and Jackson at 7:00 on the dot at the playground at Union Square, where Jack told me that this little guy had just taken his very first steps that day, at ten months old.

Then we got big, fat Ray’s pizza and went home.



91 Responses to “A Change Is Better Than A Rest”

  • Not that the cats weren’t cute, but that was amazing post.

  • I think that was my most favorite post of yours ever.

  • I love it when you just write and write and write and write.

    Also, the controlling parent > arm’s length defence? Jesus that makes sense. Thank you for saving me a future therapy bill.

  • Oh, Eden. I can so identify with the burying-in-the-middle technique you used. Way to pull an epiphany out of a horrible movie.

  • Awesome. Thanks for sharing the adventures and the breakthrough.

  • Oh my god, I made it to the end (my job is dreadfully boring…)
    and wow, what a great, entertaining post. As the mother of a 6 yo., I particularly loved the whole “Picky!” conversation. Jesus, I thought I was the only one who was still hauling mine around like some weird growth on my back.

    Anyway, thanks for the NY stories and it was fun to see your husband.

  • I loved that in between all the AMNH animals.

  • Phew. I hope your hands didn’t fall off typing that and uploading all those gorgeous photos.

    Yay, epiphanies! Yay, grown up days! Yay, picky!

  • Gorgeous, gorgeous post. Had me laughing like a fool and misty-eyed (mostly at the same time). Glad you had a fun time on the East Coast.

    And the Yankees suck. ;)

  • Eden, that was a very funny post for a human towel rack.

    I’m going to NY in a month for a wedding. Thanks for reminding me of all the things I need to do once I get there. But you left out my favorite one:
    B L O O M I N G D A L E ‘ S. There is no Bloomies anywhere that compares to the flagship. I shall enter that hallowed space and weep.

  • Stories and pictures like yours remind me how much fun it’s going to be to be the mom of a son. I (having never lived with boys) was freaked out when I saw that little appendage on the ultrasound. But now I can’t wait to watch him share his future iPod with his uncle, and ride PickyBack.

  • I actually shed a fucking tear (at work) more over this post then the ones about losing your Dad or Cookie.

    When I was little I used to crawl on my Moms lap & tell her to please not shut up.

    And that’s what I’d like to say to you. Repeatedly.

  • “…big enough to pass Beatrix Potter’s coffin through…”

  • Awesome! Thanks.

  • Holy crap. I’m going to have to schedule some time to read this entire post. Looks like you had fun though.

  • The cow? It’s a bull.

  • Seriously, fave post ever. Though I still get a kick out of those horny elephants from a while back.

  • Holy shit, I’m exhausted from reading that. Who knew that the east coast had so much to do.

  • Oh, Eden. I absolutely adore you. That was a treat to read.

    I’m still busting a gut over, ‘i know I said a bad word, motherfucker.”

  • Yay! A Mrs. Kennedy travelogue.

  • This is why I adore you. So many hidden gems in every single thing you write.

  • I love seeing my city through your eyes.

    You know, from South Street Seaport, if you had turned to face that culturally insignificant bridge then looked right a wee bit, you could have waved to me. I might have seen you too. You know how the tourists always stand out.

  • I know that heavy feeling in the chest quite well. Yoga, acupuncture, therapy, talking dog movies – whatever works, man.

  • love everything about this.

  • I don’t know if I can go through more emotions in one post. It was wonderful to follow your travels on the east coast. I just loved reading it! I do have to specifically mention that the photo of the spying light fixture had me laughing before I even read the caption!

  • An amazing post.

    A heavy feeling in my chest exactly how I’ve been feeling for the last six months but couldn’t properly describe. Thanks for putting it into words.

    And, I got a little kick out of the fact that I stood in the exact same spot as you at MoMA and took the exact same photograph of the garden.

  • I love you, and this post made me cry and laugh. A blockbuster post to you, lovely Eden.

  • Best post, ever. And could Jackson be any more adorable?

  • Dude, I could write a SAGA detailing what ELSE I was doing while I was reading this post. Four people in my family moved, two got into college, and one had a baby ALL BEFORE I GOT TO THE OSTRICH.

    Plus, you totally used my tagline in there. It’s like you sandwiched it in between a hot fighter chick and “chill the fuck out” to see if I was paying attention.

    HA HA. I was. Gotcha.

  • WOW, this post had a little bit of everything. I can totally appreciate your breakthrough while watching a crap-tastic movie. Interesting how some messages, buried in a wad of what we’d otherwise just throw out, rise to the surface exactly when we can process it.

  • Is it a bit weird to say that I love you after that post? But I do in a totally platonic ….I live on the other side of the world so don’t be scared sort of way…

    Cheers Mrs Eden kennedy

  • Verbosity rocks.

  • Wonderful.

    But now my husband’s going to be mad, because I totally want to go visit NYC again and we no longer have family with whom we can stay.

  • This post has everything- I love this post.

  • I live in New York so maybe I’m biased but I love reading about people having a great NYC experience. You did everything and you did it so well. One of my very favorite things about living in the city is that you can be sitting on a bench somewhere having a perfectly normal day and see something that’s all once in a lifetime, like that kid’s first steps. I’m so glad your family got to see all that.

  • I’ve been reading your blog for -oh-years now, and this is my first comment…

    I love you and your family and your writing and your photos.
    Anything else I can say will just seem trite. And oh yeah…this is my favorite post yet! Thanks for putting up your adventures for all the world to see…and thanks to your gorgeous family for participating (willingly or not).


  • What an awesome way to document a summer. I want a family just like yours!

  • Lovely post. I always love hearing how your trips are. You always document things in the most interesting way and I love that they are long. It gives me more to read while wasting time at work. So yes you are partially to blame for the lull in productivity in a small office in Pennsylvania. The internet is truly amazing sometimes!

    I’m also really glad you got the chance to reconnect with your brother.

  • * I meant to say brothers.


  • I adore this post–never fear anything being too long, especially when your writing is so refreshing and the photos are so wonderful.

  • Cool post. So based on your experience, do you recommend therapy? I’ve tried twice but thought it would take way years to get a therapist up to speed. Your husband’s use of the F** word seems very effective.

  • Loved this. Thank you internet for giving me Fussy.

  • OK, I can’t even tell you how I found your blog… I started at Lena’s and then kept clicking and clicking and got here… HOWEVER, as I was browsing your pics (I live in Queens and work in Manhattan) I got to the one of Jack Wolf — and I know him!! I used to work with him when he was writing reviews at HBO… he’s a wonderful man… he used to work across the hall from me, and then I moved to a different dept. and didn’t see him as much… though every time I ran into him in the elevator, he’d remember to ask how my son was doing (he was 4 when I started working there and is 19 now!)

    He probably won’t remember me now – -it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him — but please tell him Tracy says hello! Small world…

    And it looks like a great trip… did you happen to go into Strand either at Union Square or Fulton Street?

  • i love this post.

  • I love this post, too. I can’t name my favorite part, but it might be the whole posing by the tiger so it looks like it’s eating you thing. I used to have to do that, too, so alot of my childhood is documented as getting bitten, gored, etc. by some dead animal. Memories!

  • as an east coast born transplant to southern california, thank you for reminding us what we are missing back there…without making us feel the weight of the oppressive humidity! Go, Verde!

  • Just wanted to say I’m glad you didn’t stop at 10,000 words – or 10,000 photos. :)

  • You were at my house?

  • super huge massive post!

  • Truly loved this post.

  • At no point did I ever tire of reading, scrolling or perusing during this post.

    Loved every word, shot, and blur of the two combined as I did, in fact, scroll.

  • Are you really abusing your readership if we enjoy it?

    Thanks for sharing so much!

  • I cannot BEEE-leeeve I have never been to New York. But now I feel like I have been.

  • Well, I haven’t visited your blog in a while due to breeding commitments but this, this makes me feel like I’ve caught up on everything.

  • Fantastic post. Love the pictures and interwoven story. Congrats on the breakthrough and handling death. It’s a tough one.

  • yeah..those red toe-sock/shoes really creeped me the fuck out.

  • Blue and orange, by the way, are the colors of New York City (and by extension, the Mets and the Knicks). It’s a bit of esoterica—the New York City flag is based on the flag of the Netherlands in the year 1625.

  • Thanks for the truly instructive comment and link, Margaret!

  • Really nice post. So nice I can’t even think of a smart-ass comment. May have to try that therapy thing you mention for pretty much the same reason. Thanks.

  • Aaww. I moved from NY almost two years ago and so, so miss it. Thanks for bringing it back to me.

    Go Mets!

  • One of the best posts EVER from you. I have a few tears in my eyes and I can’t say it’s from allergies.

  • Finally got through it all. Whew! Good times. Thanks for taking me on vacation with you. See how easy I am to travel with? No whining, no fuss. The perfect travel companion.

  • I’m a new visitor to your blog and this post made me so happy! Such beautiful pictures… I truly enjoyed them!

  • This was brilliant to read and it even had a surprise ending. I’m so glad for you that therapy worked fast and didn’t take 10 years or however long it took for Woody Allen.

    God, I love that Damien Hurst. YOWZA. I’m such a sucker for art. Richard Serra impresses me. Maybe it’s being art starved. When you are starved, perhaps even McDonald’s tastes good.

    There’s so much to this post I have to come back and re-read it later. I’ll probably forget I commented (internet amnesia effect) and comment again.

    That’s one beautiful grandma, by the way.

  • i loved this post. i’m glad you had fun in nyc. i’m also glad you had a break through of sorts and are closer to your brothers.

    but. what i’m most excited about in this entire entry is damien hirst. i LOVE him and think he’s absolutely brilliant. a bit mad, but brilliant none the less.

    i like serra. one of my sculpture pieces was inspired by him and his ability to give the illusion of curves using straight lines.

    although, i’m sure my opinions of random artists will bore most of your comment leavers and yourself. so i’ll just end this now.

  • Oh lord in heaven Bossy has a blister on her foot from the day spent reading about your trip. Sounds fun and the photos were excellent.

  • Mrs. Kennedy, I think you’re my favorite blogger in the whole world. This post was fantastic.

  • Wow. You could have broken this up into three posts, but you hung in there and took us all the way through with your fantastic writing and your great photos, I loved it!

  • Amazing Post! Squirrel watch is a great photo. I love the way both Jackson and the cat are awaiting some action with matched interest.

  • You guys seem like really, really, really great parents.

  • uncloaking to say ‘nice how you sneak that bit that makes anyone with a family cry, right in the middle.’

  • Richard Serra reminds me of giant anchors. Just like you said. It scares me and makes me think it’s going to kill me but I still think they are um, intriguing in a, it really can kill you sort of way. Sorry to hear about your mom. Glad to hear about you and your brothers. It seems like maybe a giant Serra like steal wall was removed from between you three. Your experience was like the corporeal representation of a Serra sculpture. Okay, that was a lame analogy.

    Glad you had a good time, motherfucker!: )

  • This was a wonderful post. Thank you.

  • What, no picture of the Blue Whale at the museum?

    On a strange note, I used to work at the pizza place directly across Columbus ave from the Natural History Museum.

    I would say, “small world” but it’s NYC and ideas like that just sort of don’t apply there.

  • best. post. ever.

  • I read and read and didn’t want it to end.

    Best revenge, indeed.

  • What an adventure! This sounds like about the best trip to NYC ever. Red tow-sock shoes, naked nintendo, pool bathing, street pretzels, and a guy who can’t remember the sex of his bulldog? WONDERFUL!

  • Mad heart
    be brave.

    human humble collage
    connection collection
    I would read 10 thousand more

  • Whew! That was great!

  • Okay I have a hard question for you–are you addicted to unhappiness? I know that sounds crazy but a lot of people are.

    There’s an awesome book out there by this title–it would be good to read.

    When it gets truly bad enough you will make the change, until then….

  • okay–this was meant to be on the other blog I just read. Ignore please.

  • I really, really, REALLY liked that. All of it.

  • I love the fact that your blog is not for the faint of heart or the short of attention-span. You re-define the genre so gorgeously, and I thank you for it.


  • I loved this post: I laughed, I laughed , I laughed again.

    Thank you for sharing your experiences with us!

  • that was awesome.

  • Holy crap, do I like this post. It was all over the place: inside voice, outside voice, journeys inward and outward. It made me feel all alive. And stuff.

  • duct tape on blisters = most awesome cure. Keep walking! Yay!