Date: 2003-06-30
From: Bear Mt Bridge

To: Greymoor Friary
Miles today: 7.1

Awoke early, my first morning in NYC - not because I was rested but because I was now in the habit of early rising. I started breakfast. A song from U-2 is rolling around in my head - their fantastic "New York." For those unfamiliar with the tune, it's heaps better than "I'm a Little Teapot.""...New York...Just got a place in New York..."Nary a stir from the Balls bedroom. New Yorkers sleep very, very late in the City That Never Sleeps. "We DO sleep," claims Curtis. "At our desks, in our clothes, until noon. Then we go to lunch.""...Irish, Italians, Jews and HispanicsReligious nuts, political fanatics..."While waiting, I made a banner on rice paper Curtis had given me: "I walked 1,386 miles on the Appalachian Trail to be here." It was my prop for the Today show - hoping to be scanned in the audience outside the NBC Studios.Mind you, I had no desire to be up this early, much less standing outside in a hot and crowded NYC mall in hopes of scoring some TV time. Curtis had even less desire than me.But last night, when I'd called my dad to wish him Happy 85th Birthday and tell him I was in NYC, he'd said, hopefully, "Are you going to be on The Today Show?"My dad loves that show - it"s his favorite program after Wheel of Fortune and Braves games. TV is his life these days. Sigh. What's an only daughter to do? It being his birthday and all...?Yes, we got up early and went down to NBC studios. Curtis swallowed his powerful New Yorkers disdain of things tourist and manfully escorted me into the melee. "Only for you," he said.He handed me his cell phone and I called dad to be sure he was watching. Dad was, of course. He likes Katie Couric, though he doesn't care for Matt Lauer. Neither does Curtis: "Matt is not aging well. Will you look at that hairline!?"Being a good sport, Curtis played his part with grace - elbowing away the crowd, inching me to the front and holding up his end of the banner very high, for lengthy periods of time. People screamed every time a star came by. "Katie! Katie!""Celebrity feeding frenzy," observed social critic Balls.The cameras did pan us twice in two hours. I hoped dad could pick me out. Al Roker came out of the studio, into the mall. "AL! Al!" screamed the tourists, - this tourist included. I am jumping around and shrieking with my best AT lungs: "AL!!! OVER HERE!!!! A-A-A-AL!!!" Sweat is pouring off us all. Curtis had the good grace not to roll his eyes, but I could tell he was hoping no one familiar was watching.Al Roker did stop by, and managed to sign my rice paper banner, yes he did. I will mail it home to dad. I hope he likes it.Afterward, I am limp. Strong, iced coffees are required to recover our balance. "...In New York summers get hotWell into the hundredsYou can't walk around the block, Without a change of clothing, Hot as a hairdryer in your faceHot as a handbag, And a can of mace, New York..."Then these weary, over-heated hikers walked over to Ground Zero. As you can imagine, it's basically a hole in the ground. Yet it is hard to remain unmoved.An aluminum fence allows people to view the scene. Several of the neighboring buildings are still in shroud, undergoing repairs. A grey plywood wall used to funnel visitors past the site has become something of a shrine. Visitors have left signs, flags, flowers, graffiti. And Father's Day cards; those purely undid me. Children crayoning cards to absent, fallen fathers."I can't bear it," someone says, and turns away.Yet you can't turn away either. Not and stay sane. Maybe at first, when it sags you at the knees. But sooner or later you have to stop the pushing, and turn and face it square, letting it wash over you like a tidal wave. Or you grow hard inside.It took me a lifetime to learn this simple fact about pain, any pain. That pushing it away just flat out fails. It always erupts elsewhere, as some other agony.In the end, it seems to me, when all other options are exhausted, all that can be done is one thing: Stand there in courage and bear it, open-hearted, stoic and transparent as a window. Storms do move on; clouds do part.And then they return. And then they pass on again. Ad infininitum. This I know.A Ground Zero wall scribing speaks to this:   "Death is not the worst thing in life. It is the things that die inside us while we are still alive that hurt the most."The crowd is hushed, moving along slowly. The sentiments of the world are written in ink on these grey walls, every emotion imaginable expressed. The whole gamut - harsh to compassionate to respectful.September 11 saw sacrifice, courage, love, hope, a reaching out, all that is noble in the human - also hatred, fanaticism, despair, human indifference. Ground Zero is a planetary locus, the crossroads of the best and worst of the human heart."Death is not the worst thing in life. It is the things that die inside us while we are still alive that hurt the most."We walk quietly back into the New York streets. The street noises come back into focus. Horns, jackhammers, sirens, the screech and blasts of hot air from the subway - sometimes I must plug my ears."... lose your balance, lose your life, in the queue for the lifeboats..."Crowded conditions such as streets, lines, subways and elevators. It's too much. New Yorkers cope by going inside, performing an internal lockdown. Few make eye contact on the street, and then it is a glance. Cell phones are wielded freely.This is how to survive in The City. Rush to the Metro, rush to get on a train, rush to to get off before the door closes, rush to get a place in the next line. Elbows out.When you live in survival mode for awhile, rushing and pushing becomes a way of life, perhaps even unquestioned."...In New York you can forgetForget how to sit stillTell yourself you will stay inBut it's down to Alphaville..Curtis acknowledges this. That's why he's leaving, heading back to Nashville."...Voices on a cell phoneVoices from homeVoices of the hard sellVoices on a stairwellIn New York..."And yet, I am digging it all. Until my body pulls the plug, and I crash."...but still, how can you NOT like New York...?"I took a nap. Overstimulated. Circuits fried. Curtis brought me home the world's best hamburger, then he rounded up his friend Joanne who had a car. They drove me the hour back to Bear Mt., and I was very grateful not to have to brave the Metro alone. They stopped by the Post Office, where I was overwhelmed by a stack of packages and letters. The boxes I mostly forwarded to my next stop, where I should have more time to sort through them. Thank you, all!Dale America, who thru-hiked through last year's drought, sent me his GoLite umbrella, with the guarantee it would never rain if I carried it. It hasn't rained since June 23, Delaware Water Gap - our longest dry period so far on the Trail!So here at the Bear Mt. Bridge again, it is time to say good-bye. The Dog People were crossing the bridge as we pulled up: Heidi and Colby, 2x4 and Taiyoo (nicely recovered from his porkie incident), and Slats. I introduced the hikers to Curtis and Joanne, then hugged them both good-bye. I had so much fun in NYC.I walked up the steep-ass, unswitchbacked slope with the Dog People and Slats. Once back on somewhat more level ground, I was aware of how happy I was to be back in the woods. My tired mind just rested as I swung along.The Dog People camped, but Slats and I walked on to the Friary, knocking down a swift 7.1 miles in less than three hours.Since 1972, the Franciscan Friars at Graymoor Spiritual Center have offered shelter to weary thru-hikers. Also a privy, pavilion, cold water shower, drinking water, mouse hangers for food. I had wanted to stay here from the first.The Five Alive, Cire and Swift Sandal are here, as well as my buddy Mule. Mule had gotten sick again, couldn't even eat pizza, and had returned to his doctor to get new meds. "I TOLD you," I told him. "You should have had Flagyl for giardia from the start." His doc had had him on Cipro, the antibiotic prescribed for anthrax. We helped Speck set up Ketchup's tent. She would be coming in late, at dark. Mule is a gearhead.We had a full house with Mud, Bob, ReBob, and Jester. I was deeply weary and happy to crawl in my tent. We all camped on the ballfield, a long way from the Friary. I didn't have a monk's cell. I didn't get to see a Friar. I didn't hear the chants and I didn't have a spiritual experience.But I got to see New York..."..In the stillness of the eveningWhen the sun has had its dayI hear your voice whisperingCome away....New, New YorkNew York..."