Archive for April, 2011
That would be rude.
Ferrara Bakery and Pastry Shop, on Grand Street in Manhattan's Little Italy
I was an extrovert until April 20, 1992. That was the day after Easter. I resigned from my position as Senior and Acquisitions Editor at Prometheus Books Inc. on that day and began a journey that took me from Buffalo’s East Side, to New York City, and then to Stanford University, and, at last, to Vancouver.
I spent that Easter in Toronto. I was there to appear on a 90-minute-long talk & debate show on CBC TV on behalf of Prometheus Books and its two sister organizations (here and here). I don’t actually remember what the topic was but guess, since this was Easter, it was “Near Death Experiences,” often a popular subject during the Easter season back in the day. After the show, which was exhausting, I went out into the city, which was dead, so I bought a dozen or so magazines and returned to my hotel and had some drinks from the mini-bar and read for hours. Back in Buffalo the next day, I cleared out my office after the business manager at Prometheus rejected my expense report, saying it exceeded the allowable per diem. I became an introvert the moment I left the building, and never went on television or did a radio interview again.
Back in New York City a few weeks ago, I went to a bar in Little Italy to have a shot of tequila and a beer while waiting for my sister Jenny to swing by the neighborhood for dinner. I’d hardly sipped some tequila when a fellow at the bar started talking to me about how a wife can now track her husband via the GPS in his cell phone and see what he’s doing, live, online, because web-cams are used in all the bars now. “No kidding!” I said. The bartender joined the conversation with a funny wife-with-GPS story. A woman got up from her table and came to the bar with her own tale. Within seconds, it seemed, seven or eight of us were engaged in loud, intense and very fun conversation. When I got up to leave, to meet my sister, my new friends offered to buy me another round to get me to stay. That sure was tempting.
I left that bar feeling strangely great, and not just Cuervo Gold strangely great but truly elated, as if I had found a treasure, or remembered a most important password or secret. I was on a train going from Manhattan to Buffalo a few days later when I figured out what I had found and remembered: *This* is what life had been like, *this* is what I had stopped being, decades ago, a gregarious man living in places where people wanted you to be gregarious. What did I have in common with the people at the bar that could make our conversation so immediate and intense? We were in the same place, and that was enough.
I flew back to Vancouver the third Sunday of Lent, two weeks before Easter. I walked out my front door the next morning and felt something I had never felt before in Canada: that I was in a foreign country. I am grateful that this feeling soon ebbed, and is now gone.
My students and some of my Vancouver friends have heard my Little Italy story, all of them agreeing that that type of conviviality simply does not exist in BC. One student noted, “Of course it doesn’t. That would be considered rude.”
Here we look after others, but we leave them alone.
Natalie Purschwitz at the VAG
Natalie Purschwitz
This weekend is your last chance to see a wonderful photography and fashion installation by Natalie Purschwitz at the Vancouver Art Museum. The installation is the culmination of Purschwitz’s “Makeshift” project, for which she made every piece of clothing she wore, and every accessory she carried with her, for 365 days straight. If you can’t make the show, you can always visit her wonderful blog.
Return to America
Made a quick trip to Manhattan and to Buffalo a couple of weeks ago: To Manhattan to visit my new niece, Joey, to see one of my sisters, Jen, and to take in the sights (MOMA’s exhibition of Women Photographers was magnificent); to Buffalo to hang out with my med-student son, Miles, living across the street from the hospital in which he was born, and to meet up with my other sister, Maria, and our Mom and Dad at one of my favourite old haunts for a delightful Saturday brunch.
Both cities reminded me, with great force and some surprise, why I love and consider them, with Vancouver, home.
“Crossover Artist”
Vancouver’s Dr. Cameron Bowman is a hero to some good friends of mine, and to a number of the transgendered models in T-Bodies Productions’ “Manamorphosis” calendars and playing cards. There is an excellent profile of the bold and brilliant doctor in March’s Vancouver Magazine: “Sex Reassignment as an Artform.” “No one was helping these people,” notes Dr. Bowman in the article. “There is that moment when a transgender patient wakes up after surgery and looks in the mirror to see a body that is startlingly new and yet somehow familiar. That’s my favourite part, that first reaction. Sometimes they cry – that makes me cry sometimes. They hug you and say, ‘Thank you.’ That’s why I do this.”
[Last week’s superb series of Global News pieces on transgendered individuals can be seen here. Dr. Bowman is featured.– 25 April ’11]
New York City
Home base is 106th street this time, near Riverside Park, with great friends and their new daughter. (The graffito above’s from a wall in Little Italy, c.2004.)
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