i get the news I need on the weather report

When I sit down to think about this painting...                        http://www.jenniferdsandquist.com/store/p114/The_Ferry_To_Hoboken.html ...        and the story behind it... I realize that time goes by so quickly. I was about to write that this painting is from about a  year ago. Seems I always think everything happened about a year ago... when in fact this is from a trip I took to New York to visit my friend Laura in Ocotober of 2011... that means it was in fact almost 3 years ago. Man... how does that happen? When I flew in for that trip New York was under siege by a sloppy ice storm. We had plans to go to Transmission... but the prospect of making our way across the city seemed ridiculous. So, we stayed in and drank tea and caught up on life. I've known Laura for about 5 years now. About half of those she's been living in New York. This trip was fun because I stayed at her place in Brooklyn and she had to work daytime hours most of the time I was there... so I had those hours free to wander the city with my camera... one of my favorite things to do. In the evenings we would explore together... I was there for Halloween and so we donned our scary and went to a fun little bar down the street... we sipped hot toddies and in the center of the room there was a spooky man with frighteningly spider-like fingers playing a grand piano. It was very relaxing and sort of the opposite of any halloween I've ever had before or since. It has since become one of my favorite halloween memories. I took a lot of pictures on that trip... here are a few of my favorites.

The day I took the Ferry to Hoboken... I got terribly lost. New York can seem bigger than it is at times... my sense of direction is actually really good but sometimes all those buildings make me dizzy and I get turned around. I phoned a friend that guided me to the Ferry and finally I made it there. I spent the afternoon wandering and when I came back across... we passed not far from Ellis Island. I was reading a book at the time all about it. It's a really intimate book that you should look up if you're interested in that kind of stuff at all. There are hundreds of interviews. Each begins with the persons name... the year they were born and where... sometimes they included a photo. Then each person told their story about the life they had in the old world... then their passing into this country... and the life they had after. Many of the interviews made me cry. So many of the people coming to America back in those days were more poor than you could ever imagine. I recall one account where a woman said that each day she and her brother got to share one egg. That was their meal for the day. Half of an egg. Most of the people that came here sold everything they owned... many times everything their entire family owned simply to afford passage. Many had never owned a pair of shoes before in their life... but their parents would sell a goat or a watch to buy them shoes to wear to America. There was no google. Many immigrants couldn't speak or write a word of English. Once they arrived... they had no idea what to expect or where to go. Countless thousands would never go home again. What must that have felt like? It's something I can't even imagine. We take so many things for granted today. Words are one of them. 

Words that people would pay money and wait months to receive via a letter from a loved one. Words that just a few years ago... would cost a small fortune with a "long distance call" ... something that I can still remember. Hurrying to get off the phone because of the financial implications seems like a figment of my imagination now. I think about this again... because I leave for Spain in just 19 days. I have had a few anxious moments in the past few weeks considering what lies ahead. The unknown of course is more frightening than reality. But my mild adventure pales in comparison to the one so many of our ancestors did on blind faith. With little money. And almost no plan or help. We are so spoiled. How quickly we have forgotten what it feels like to truly miss someone. To be alone. To be afraid. To do anything at all simply because we hope for something. Or trust that something good will come of it. When I tell people I am going to Spain for a month all by myself... I get one of two reactions.... "Good for you! How exciting" or... "Oh my god are you crazy? Why would you want to do that?"... Well... just like any journey I have ever been on... I trust that there is something to see... something to do... and something to learn by being alone... somewhere far from home... and I am not the first person to believe so.

And... this is a painting of my friend Laura... that I did a couple of years before I went to visit her in New York.

http://www.jenniferdsandquist.com/store/p57/Laura.html