Happy New Year!

Today on new year’s eve this slightly grumpy old man was trying to remember details about past new year’s celebrations. A couple of days ago I was asked by a friend what my plans were for this year. My answer was that I don’t have any and I’m OK with that. At my age this is perfectly acceptable, but if memory serves, when I was younger, having no place to participate in some sort of new years eve ritual would have been a bit embarrassing. 

New years along with Halloween is one of American culture’s most diversely celebrated holidays. Although the origins of all the silly things we do to ring in the new year – excessive drinking, noisemaking, wearing silly hats, kissing strangers, etc. – can be sourced to ancient pagan and christian rituals from thousands of years ago, I’m not sure many people could explain why we do the things that we do on new years eve today. To this day I have never understood what would compel millions of people to subject themselves to the horrors of Times Square on new years eve. Once on new years eve I went to see a Broadway show with a large group of friends and got separated from them in the crowd trying to get to a restaurant where we had after-show reservations. I never made it to the restaurant and went home feeling a bit embarrassed that I was the only one who didn’t make it there, but secretly happy to be home in front of the TV at midnight with a glass of milk and PB&J sandwich instead of in an over crowded noisy restaurant.

My memory is a bit fuzzy on new year’s memories, but a quick survey in my head comes up with about 50-50 good and bad memories with a lot of years just blank. I guess there were a lot of years that were just unmemorable. While it can be pleasant to toast the new new year with a few close friends, I have often over the years found myself in a situation where I’m toasting the new year with one or two friends plus 20 or 30 strangers who I will most likely never see again. I think large new years eve parties are prone to collecting lots of acquaintances and friends of friends and tag-alongs which can be a recipe for boredom and/or disaster, especially when booze is being abundantly consumed. The festivities can often feel somewhat forced as you go through the required rituals. Does anybody even know what Auld Lang Syne means? 

I have happy memories of a big new years party saying good bye to 1976 and the end of the bicentennial year. I distinctly remember feeling lucky and happy to be where and with whom I was that year. I feel lucky to have been young and in NYC at a time so full of fun and unlimited possibilities. To those of us who survived, there will never be party that could come close to party that was NYC in throughout 70’s.

I also had some good times at new years eve at The LGBT Center when I worked on the Center Dance Committee. The new years parties we put on there were lots of work, but also lots of fun. One year I spent hours rigging an elaborate system to drop confetti on the dance floor at midnight. It worked well but a lot of people were pissed that their champagne glasses filled with soggy confetti before they could toast the new year. Another year I was the entertainment just before midnight in blue sequins and a red wig lip-synching like a veteran drag queen. I’m not sure who’s idea this was, but the crowd did not boo and I got to yell “Happy New Year!” at the end of the song, so they had to applaud and cheer even if it wasn’t for my performance.

I guess in retrospect the best new years celebrations are the ones that are planned carefully, so that you're with someone or several someones that you care about in a comfortable place where you want to be. Even if that means your by yourself, it’s OK as long as you can raise your “cup of kindness” and remember all the people from times gone by that made your life interesting and worthwhile. From a Scots poem by Robert  Burns written 1788 later set to a traditional folk tune, that’s what “Auld Lang Syne” means. 

Here’s to times gone by and Robert Burns!

Holiday Ambivalence and a Little Good Cheer

Every year I try to keep my expectations very low throughout the holiday season from turkey day to new years.  I’ll go to holiday parties and family gatherings when invited, and I enjoy them, but as I become more of a slightly grumpy old man I enjoy the holidays more as a spectator than active participant. When your expectations are low your disappointments are few and the pleasures are more pleasurable when they come as a surprise. You will never experience the holidays as much as you did when you were child. Look at the kid on the bouncy-horse at the end of this video. That’s the kind of simple joy that only a 3-year-old can have and will never be in your my life again. Why try? 

Because of my laissez-faire attitude toward the holidays I have been accused by friends and co-workers of being a bit of a Grinch. Once I was given a black Santa hat with the words “humbug!” embroidered on the front because I didn’t display the proper amount of enthusiasm for the season. I don’t hate Christmas and certainly don’t wish to spoil the festivities for anyone else. It’s just that I find that I don’t feel the need to wallow in the yearly round of nostalgia and good cheer that I often find forced and over-done. It also goes on way too long. Also because I’m a devout atheist, the religious aspects of Christmas are wasted on me. However, the glitter and tinsel-covered kitsch-fest that dominates American Christmas can be fun to watch. Last year I was invited by a friend who had been given tickets to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and it was a blast. It’s like evolution has come full circle and the pagan Saturnalia rituals that early Christians adopted to celebrate Jesus’ B’day have returned to their roots as a celebration of greed and avarice. Only it’s a spectacular high-tech 21st century one with a glossy veneer of sentimentality. 

This year I was invited to a karaoke party and actually enjoyed singing a few Christmas carols after a couple of beers. The highlight, however was when a friend showed up with his friend Neil Sedaka, who joined in and sang a few his songs. For those of you too young to know, Neal Sedaka is a singer/songwriter who had a string of top 40 hits in the 60’s and wrote a lot of tunes recorded by other pop stars of the era. I don’t look like I’m having much fun in this picture and I refused to where antlers, but it was fun. Really! 

Also this year I was invited to participate in SantaCon by some friends. The idea of an all-day bar crawl wearing a Santa suit didn’t hold much appeal for me, but I did join them for brunch and two bars.  They’re a great bunch of guys and I appreciate that they will occasionally include this grumpily old man in their festivities. Both bars we stopped at were not crowded and the noise level allowed normal conversation. I was happy to wave goodbye as they headed on to more popular venues in Chelsea.

Next it’s off to see a the cabaret act of drag queen, Hedda Lettuce do her Christmas show of holiday favorites defiled with obscene lyrics. 

Defying Gravity

When I was younger I often wondered why the expression on the wrinkled faces of most old people seems to have settled into one of perpetual anger. They just look really pissed off all the time. I wonder if it’s just the natural effects of gravity pulling aging facial flesh downward or a true reflection of how it feels to be elderly – and by the way what exactly is the age when you can be called elderly? Is it the next step after becoming a senior? You know you’re a senior when you become eligible for all those senior discounts at movie theaters and museums. How do you know when you should count yourself one of the elderly? Perhaps it will be the day one of  those scruffy little twinks who work at Trader Joe's escorts you to the front of the line carrying your basket. I saw that happen twice this morning. Both of the them were women who I would definitely consider elderly. They even had canes. What if I took a cane when I went shopping? Would they let me skip the line? Would that be cheating? My knee did ache a little this morning. Am I ready to be considered elderly even though it’s just to cut the line? Probably not.

Of course now that I’m an old man myself now, I understand that getting old sucks and there’s a lot to be pissed off about. While it’s a wonderful thing to save a couple of bucks at the movies and gloat about it to my fifty-something companion, there ain’t a lot to be happy about getting old. Your body starts failing you in so many ways you hadn’t counted on. I’ve been really trying hard to keep calm and carry on and comfort myself with the fact that there are many my age in much worse shape. In the end though, gravity and nature will take their course and a face that reminds you of an old black and white photo of your great grandfather will stare back at you from the mirror. Plus other signs catch you a little off guard, like younger friends and siblings becoming grandparents. These are all things you knew were coming, but the reality of it actually happening kind of bursts the mortality denial bubble you’ve nurtured since you turned forty, – with a very loud wet popping sound. Wait. No. That was just the sound my knees make every time I stand up.  

Nothing makes you face the realities of aging like taking care of an aging parent for a while like I did last October. Mom’s 92 and she’s definitely elderly and definitely pissed off about it. All of her younger friends in their 70’s and 80’s go on and on about how incredibly fit my mom is, which she is, for someone her age, but I think she’s beginning to get tired of living up to their expectations. There are so many things she just can’t do anymore and while she seems to be accepting it gracefully most of the time, there were dark moments when I think she would have just liked to say goodbye and go on to the next thing, which of course for her is death. She’s a church-goer but more for the social aspects than the religion. She’s not really a believer in all the mystical afterlife crap. We had some nice chats about that and other things concerning her end-of-life wishes and plans. A lot of our conversations were death related. I think she was surprised that I could relate to her experience of having so many close friends die before her. Watching your friends die in your 80’s and 90's is just as unpleasant as seeing them waste away in your 30’s. We bonded over death stories. In a strange way I think it cheered her up a bit. 

Of course there are a few advantages to being old beyond the senior discounts. I can play the cranky old man card any time I don’t feel like doing something or make fun of stuff with a very special “don’t give shit” attitude that only old men can get away with. This is especially useful whenever I find myself interacting with the young folks. Sometimes when I find myself at some sort of function and have managed to engage some cute young thing who is polite enough to pretend to be interested in listening to me talk, I always enjoy going on about how much fun it was to be a twenty-something in the wild and crazy 1970’s New York and how sorry I feel for all you puppies who were born too late to have been there. I’m actually surprised by how easily some of the gen-X’s, Y’s and Millennials fall for this crap. In any case it gives me more close up ogling time. Of course the truth is that I would sell my soul to the devil to trade that ogling time for some hands on fondling time. The awful truth of Mr. Shaw’s axiom about youth being wasted on the young becomes all too real to us seniors – while I’m telling some puppy about the wild and crazy 70’s, I’d really rather be using my tongue to demonstrate exactly how we had fun back in the good old days. But I digress.

As Elaine Stritch said in her one woman show “Gettin’ old ain’t for sissies.” This old sissy, however has no choice. I’m old and I’m going to get older. If my Mom’s genes are any indication, I could stretch this out another 30 years or maybe check-out time is just around the corner. Who knows? All I can do is keep moving and try to make it the least not fun as possible, keep the grumpiness to a minimum and in defiance of gravity look for many things to smile about.

Carnage On the Streets: Reality Check

If I had an odometer on my 34 year old Motobécane touring bike I'm guessing it would register in the 6 figures in terms of mileage.  Plus I began biking in the city 6 years before that–40 years a survivor. That makes me a pretty avid and experienced cycling advocate. Our traffic commissioner Jenette Sadik-Kahn is my hero. I would vote for a fourth Bloomberg term if I knew he would keep her on. So  I freely admit when comes to the issues surrounding bicycle safety, the Citibike program and the hysteria it elicits from the 2-wheel challenged public, I am not objective.  I've spent a lot of time over the years patiently trying to educate friends and acquaintances when they make idiotic remarks about my fellow cyclists.

As an unnoticed minority I've always had a special pride in being one the few and the brave who used a bicycle for basic transportation long before there was any attempt by anyone in city government to promote or accommodate bicycles in any way. As a minority, you tend to be a little patient with the indifference and intolerance of people who only notice the worst element of your kind–sort of like if one based their perception of all gay men on the public behavior of Andrew Cunanan and Richard Simmons. The asshole that almost ran you down as you crossed the street is going to be the one you remember. However, now I have run out of patience. Assholes are assholes whether on two wheels,  four wheels or walking on two feet with their noses pointed down at their smart phones.

The success of Ms. Sadik-Kahn's efforts to get more people on bicycles combined with the rollout of the Citibikes has caused a disproportionate number of biped assholes to awaken from their touch-screen induced stupors. The foolishness began 3 years ago with the introduction of protected bike lanes. This year with the rollout of Citibikes the level of shrill and righteous indignation has been raised to new heights – the prime example being WSJ editorial board member Dorothy Rabinowitz who's over-the-top video where she looks and sounds like an SNL caricature of upper east side privilege as she bemoans our neighborhoods being "begrimed" by this horrible thing and how helpless she feels in the face of our "autocratic mayor" being lead by our "ideology blinded traffic commissioner who is ruled by the all powerful bicycle lobby." It got huge laughs when it was shown on The Daily Show. While Ms. Rabinowitz's presentation was laughable she was joined by more reasonable but equally misinformed pundits, bloggers and columnists who predicted widespread carnage and lawsuits galore. I have a four word response for all of them. Kiss my ass suckers!

While the final Carnage Score for the year, which by law NYCDOT is required to publish won't be in until early next year, there are no indications that the four-wheeled variety of transportation will loose the King of Carnage title for 2013. In the first five months of the Citi Bike program no one has been killed on one and there were mostly minor injuries with the 24 reported accidents involving Citi Bikes. I got this number from a NY Times article by Matt Fleginheimer. Also when I tried to find information about lawsuits involving Citi bikes, I could only find references to three and two of those were cases of people suing because they tripped on a docking station (one of the tripping suers was a blind man). It was interesting how many lawyer websites pop up when you do a search for Citi Bike lawsuits. To bad all the SEO work didn't seem to be producing much business for them.

As Mr. Fleginheimer said in his Times piece, officials are a little skittish about releasing too many solid statistics until the end of the year. There's two months left in the year. The first snowstorm could precipitate an unforeseen Citi bike disaster. Blood in the snow covered icy streets! In any case I will be revisiting this when the final numbers come out next year and I'm pretty confidant that there will more snarky gloating on my part. My own non-objective observation is that the common but counterintuitive theory that as bicycle ridership increases, the per capita rate of accidents goes down. The the bike lanes and traffic flow changes that my beloved Jenette has put in place have contributed the beginnings of real cultural change on NYC streets, but Citi Bikes has really made a big difference. There is generally more all around awareness between pedestrians, cyclists and motorists.

There are still plenty of assholes out there both on foot and on wheels, but we have a long way to go before we become Amsterdam or Copenhagen. I'm not sure I would want New York to become Copenhagen, which I found a bit eery because of the lack of car horns blowing there. New York wouldn't seem quite right without all the assholes in cars who think that blowing their horns has some magical power to make everything in front of them move. They always make me smile.

So fair warning to all the 2-wheel challenged who know me (you know who you are) and all those who cross my path. I am armed with facts and stats to back them up. No foolishness about me and my kind will go unchallenged.

Why Blog?

Today I got sucked into a rather pointless conversation with friend through about a comment he made on another friend's post. I felt my friend's comment was a bit misplaced in the context of the post he was commenting on. The experience was very unsatisfying for me as exchanges of opinion usually are on Facebook. However the topic we discussed was one that I am very passionate about and sent me into an internet session gathering material to back up my arguments. I soon lost interest in the Facebook exchange completely and started reading various blogs and opinion pieces related to the topic I was researching. One blogger's statement about how he didn't comment on a NY Times article because he could just types his opinion into his blog with as much obscenities as he wanted and it would go onto the same internet as the NY Times and he didn't really care how many people read it. "It's sort of like pissing in the shower instead of the toilet: 'It's all pipes!,' as George Costanza once pointed out.  So really, why bother getting out of the shower in order to submit something to the Times when it all ends up contaminating the same water table?"
I kind of like that philosophy and so I'm going try it. I've been accused by many of my friends of being very opinionated, and I have to agree. Why not just put it out there. It will be fun to see if I can stir up some shit and get noticed. At the very least I can just vent and not have to respond politely to everyone who has an opinion unless I feel like it.