There is a little corner of my word where magic happens. It’s not visible from the naked eye. It’s not always in the same spot. I have to chase it, happen upon it, close my eyes and conjure it. It is my imagination and of late, imaginings there have been quiet, the space taken over by real-life issues – good, great, and could-be-better.

I suppose the most exciting thing to have happened lately is my daughter’s change in status. No longer is she a homeschooled teen doing high school work. No. Now she is a college freshman, having started classes just yesterday.

The homeschool-to-college process isn’t a difficult one – though it was difficult for us. And yes, that means ain’t nothing easy in this world.

Our experience here in NYC is different from the experiences of homeschooled children elsewhere in the country…in the world. While NY State has fairly strict rules and regulations, New York City adds to those by labeling children ‘compulsory age’ until the end of the school year in which they turn 17. Just a mile away, on the other side of the city line, compulsory age is 16. That might not seem like a huge difference, but when you’re trying to get your child into college, it can be. Especially if you tend to trust the words of others more than your own gut.

During our six homeschool years, I’d researched homeschool-to-college methods and ‘knew’ just what I had to do. It wasn’t until last summer as we visited our local community colleges that I realized – or rather, believed – I’d been wrong. The key to a successful homeschool-to-college experience is to know your rights. Plain and simple. Private colleges will have their own rules, but community colleges are bound by the rules of the county in which they exist. At issue, though, was whether we wanted to fight to get into the very school system we’d abandoned back when my daughter was in sixth grade.

We didn’t.

And dealing with CUNY schools reminded us of that fact. Rules changed according to the person we speak to. Never was there someone of a higher authority available when we took issue with the ‘facts’ as presented to us.

Finally, after much angst and a year of stalling, we discovered a SUNY school that is not only homeschool-friendly but also offers long-distance degree programs. My daughter, at 16, is now a student at this school. Once she has her associate degree, she will no longer be a ‘homeschool’ student but a transfer student.

Which brings me right back to where I was when we first hit the pavement in search of higher education for my child.

Granted I’d made a mistake. I’ll explain it to you so if you’re looking to have your child go from homeschool to college, you won’t make it to -

From the time my daughter turned 14, we should have enrolled her in one or two college courses – ex. Eng.101, Global History101 – per semester. Courses whose credits naturally transfer. Three to six credits per semester would give a homeschooled student enough credits to transfer to a community college or university by the time they’ve passed compulsory age. At that point, they would transfer into a college and continue their education rather than first start the process as freshmen. 

Hindsight obviously doesn’t help us. But remember, planning is almost everything. Knowing your rights and not letting others tell you differently is everything else.

Good luck in your homeschool-to-college endeavors. It may not come easy but when it comes, it is a magical moment so much sweeter than the imagination could ever create.

You would think with the winter months upon us, I’d be home in front of the computer pounding away at posts for this blog. Well, this winter in New York has been so mild, so lovely, that I’ve been out and about for much of it.

One of my outings took me to Old Bethpage Village Restoration, a historically rich location that makes me think of Colonial Williamsburg and how it might have looked in its earliest planning stages.

Known as the Jewel of Long Island, Old Bethpage Village Restoration (OBVR) has been severely underfunded and budget cuts have cost it the “living history” part of its description since almost all of the full time costumed interpreters have been laid off. Fortunately, new management seems interested in revitalizing the Village and our hope is for a rebirth.

Meanwhile, as the Village stands cold and closed for the winter months, a skeleton crew – of sorts – is charged with maintaining and cleaning the buildings. Each house in the Village was brought there from another part of Long Island, each teaming with its own history. Some of the furnishings in the homes belong to the family that once lived there, other furnishings are mismatched.

All of this makes OBVR a prime location for paranormal activity. Because of that, one of the updates I would love to see in this village is a regularly scheduled lantern ghost tour. When I am in the Village, there is no question in my mind – Here, there be ghosts.

On a particularly sunny cleaning day, we brought our cameras and digital recorders. There wasn’t much activity that day, mostly personal experiences of cold spots, unease, dizziness and headaches. In each home, however, we captured whispered voices, barely audible. I will share four that seem the most vivid and urge you to use headphones for a fuller experience.

If I sound less than disappointed about our soft bits of audio evidence, it’s because of the phenomenal visual evidence we captured. At first, I was excited, then I became frightened. I don’t know what or who we captured in the pictures I’ll be sharing here, but as I considered it, I realized, we’ve never felt threatened in those homes so our perception of what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ looks like is just that, perception. We don’t know what’s on the other side and so we shouldn’t make judgments – can’t judge a book by its cover, right?

A word about the recordings on this page. For some reason, the player will play all of the recordings in succession. Just press pause to prevent if from continuing until you’re ready to hear the next track.

And so without further ado…

In the Schenck House – a home built in 1730 by a Dutch Farmer – We are standing at the front door having just walked into the house and locked the door behind us. I just noted the size of the floorboards and beams – HUGE gorgeous wood – when a light sing-songy female voice comes from the space immediately around us. We know it’s not us because it happens as I’m talking about the beautiful wood and my daughter laughs. We didn’t even hear this voice at the time.

SCHENCK HOUSE 2:06 Ghost Child – SCHENCK FOYER

The Williams House – build by a master house carpenter, Henry Williams, in 1820 – is known for its hautings and though presumption is its residual not intelligent, some of the otherworldly ‘comments’ tell us the opposite. Take for example this bit of recording while we stood in the parlour –

Listen hard for the whispers, there are two. The first is at 7 seconds, about two beats after I say, “You have a beautiful house”, the whisper sounds like, “What?” The second, at 11 seconds, sounds like a slow, drawn out, “They’re here.”.

WILLIAMS HOUSE – Parlour Ghost Hunting – WILLIAMS HOUSE PARLOUR

Eventually, we set the recorder in the family room and went about our work in the other rooms and upstairs. While the recorder remained alone on a table by a bible and spectacles, there were separate comments made – we, remember were in the other rooms or on the second floor and our voices, when heard, are distinctly ours.

Listen at 14 seconds. We hear “go”. At .21, .25 and .27, we hear, “That’s you.” “Go.” “Take them.”

WILLIAMS HOUSE BIBLE Ghost Voices – WILLIAMS HOUSE by Bible

At this point, we are upstairs, talking while we work. Listen at 4 seconds. We hear a frustrated – almost weary and bored of our presence – “Go home.” Just before the whisper, you’ll hear silence then us talking in the background.

WILLIAMS HOUSE “GO HOME” GHOST HUNTING – WILLIAMS HOUSE – GO HOME

And finally, at the Noon Inn, built in 1835, we climbed up to the attic. Well, I didn’t. I stood on the steps to the attic and had to come back down. I felt heavy, the air thick. Cold. My daughter followed me down and our friend remained on the stairs, feeling uncomfortable and asking me to take her picture at that moment because something did not feel right to her. The first picture you’ll see is the photo I took at that moment and cannot explain. Look to her left. Right there in black on the stairs.

BLACK MASS NOON INN

IMAGE DELETED

Please forgive me, but I’ve chosen to delete this image due to some ‘darker’ comments I’ve received (and also deleted) regarding it.

Not one of us ‘knows’ what is beyond this world. We can only judge by what we experience, what we believe and what we feel. In all my years visiting the Village, I have never felt that I or my family was in any type of danger and I would never want others to be turned off because of what they interpret from our experiences there. This image seemed too much of a hot button, and I thought it best to simply remove it.

This next photo is one I took once we were all down the stairs. I cannot explain this one either. Look toward the top right.

FACE NOON INN

This last picture is one I took almost immediately after the one above.

NO FACE NOON INN

I’ll leave it to you to decide what these images mean. Your comments, opinions and/or personal experiences are VERY welcomed.

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For more of my ghost experiences, check out my Ghosts of Gettysburg Posts – Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

I live within the NYC limits so you can guess at the amount of noise I hear every day. All day. And night.

The police precinct is a few blocks away and the firehouse just past that. Three hospitals serve my area, too, so ambulance response time is quick. We have two airports nearby and a train practically next door. Add city buses, cars honking at the traffic light on one corner and stop sign at the other, and it’s a wonder people in my neighborhood stay sane.

However, think about that scene in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil where John is spending his first night in a beautiful and balmy Georgia. The windows are open. The curtains are blowing. But for John to sleep, he needs noise. A city boy through and through, he turns on a tape recording he’s made of NYC streets and the sounds become his lullaby.

So, I wonder, if I were to leave the city, and land in the center of a quiet oasis, would I be content or uneasy? Would I feel peaceful or paranoid?

I think it would be nice at first. Free space to breathe, stretch, lounge and soak up the quiet. But I also think the newness of that would wear off quickly, and I’d wind up looking over my shoulder way more often than I do here at home.

What about you? Are you where you are because you want to be or because it’s where you’ve landed? And, given the choice, would you stay in the quiet or hectic area you call home, or can you see yourself comfortable in the opposite atmosphere?

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My thanks to Mrs. Dunne and the children of P.S. 31 for their rendition of the Pledge of Allegiance.

Tomorrow is my 17th wedding anniversary, which means today marks 17 years since I frantically worked to finish the last of the silk floral centerpieces for our reception. We could have gotten them from the florist, but that’s what I did “on the side” at that time. Silk floral arranging. Poor hubby had to take them, five at a time, to the catering hall – which was about 30 minutes in each direction.

Weather the week prior to our wedding was about the same as it is now – typical NY July with a bit of elevated heat and pollen index thrown in for fun. Thermostats read 102 in the shade.

We’d planned a whole day of partying. Pre-wedding portraits and lunch with family and close friends at our house well before the 7pm ceremony. Neighbors stopped by and even our pets posed for some pictures.

Our grandmothers were there as well. One from each side. And we put those beautiful ladies to good use. We asked them to be our witnesses and they eagerly agreed, each taking a turn to sign our marriage certificate. Precious memories.

After lunch at our house, we headed out for our formal wedding portraits at the EAB Plaza – which was a corporate office with an amazing arboretum in the lobby where brides often went for a bit of the exotic. Our plan after that was to have our wedding ceremony on the grounds of the catering hall, overlooking the Long Island Sound where cool breezes would be welcome.

That didn’t happen.

Why? Because NY air doesn’t like to stay hot and heavy for long. It likes to cool itself off. On its terms. And so, as we left the house and headed out for the start of our festivities, the sky went black… and I mean black… and then the rain came down so hard we had to pull over several times on our way to the arboretum. When we finally got there, it took a bit of coaxing to get everyone out of the cars and into the place, but we did it and those are some of the best moments of the day. The pictures there still make me smile because when I look at them, I still hear the laughter and screams as we darted through driving rain into the place – in gowns and heels and tuxedos. Such fun. Messy. But fun.

And then we headed to the catering hall. At this point, the rain had ebbed to a mere monsoon and we were able to plod along at a safe and respectable pace. Until the lead car – our family car that held both sets up parents, siblings and spouses and our grandmothers – pulled over. It seems the rain found its way into the lounge area of the car and our families, holding champagne flutes above their heads, caught it before it fell into their laps. I guess they used the ice bucket, too, because somehow, we continued on and they were dry – mostly – when we arrived.

Once dry and inside we took some portraits – hubby is a wedding photographer after all.  For some photos, we looked out of a gorgeous wall of windows – toward the Sound. Toward row after row of decorated white chairs sitting empty. Wet. Lonely. We took a moment to mourn our lovely outdoor wedding, then shrugged it off. This was NY after all. On the Long Island Sound. Do you have any idea what kind of feast mosquitoes would have had on our guests?

It all worked out for the best. Lots of friends. Lots of fun. Lots of memories and lots of love.

What went wrong on your wedding day? And did it really matter much after all?

Writers are normally solitary creatures. We love interaction with people and we love sharing but for the most part, we love our quiet time more. There has to be balance, of course, but what’s a writer to do when she’s forced out of her comfy little cubby and into the frantic and crowded world of NETWORKING?!

It’s enough to make the muse cower in the dark recesses of the mind.

This week – tomorrow in fact – this writer will be attending her first ever Romance Writer’s Conference. There will be workshops galore, introductions, re-connections, pitches, midnight bazaars, dinner with new friends and old, drinks, networking and tired feet.

I’m looking forward to it but I’m also intimidated. I want to take it all in without feeling overwhelmed. I want to go slowly, pull back and truly see the community of which I am a part.

I’ve been writing all my life and until recently, thought of it as lonely work. Most rewarding and enjoyable, but lonely. Over the past few months, however, I’ve met real live writers, while previously, I’d only met other writers ‘virtually’. I’m connected now and after this week, I will be connected even more.

Tomorrow I will meet up with people I’ve only known through IM’s, discussion boards or emails. I cannot wait. I’m excited and terrified and wonder if there’s a story in this.

Since in my previous post I said I’d look toward the positive, my only worry is whether my online friends will like me in person. Oh. And whether I packed the right shoes…  if the dresses are appropriate… if my pitch is ready for prime time… whether my hair looks okay… if I paid the electric bill… whether the cat-sitter remember to…

Baby raccoons!

Just the other day, I told y’all about the raccoons in my neighbor’s attic crawl space. Well, we’ve been dealing with raccoons in our attics for a few years now. In late winter/early spring, female raccoons look for a safe place to den. “Safe”, meaning away from male raccoons who resent the babies because while mama nurses them, she won’t mate. So… quite simply, baby raccoons are not safe around a horny male and mama has to hide them.

That’s another reason I don’t like the idea of calling in animal control. The mom works so hard to keep her babies safe. That’s nature at it’s most basic and beautiful.

But, these raccoons are rather fertile and while I saw two adolescent raccoons last week, I have now seen Mom and three toddlers who are still so small, they’re unable to navigate their way home.

This morning, at 6, which is late for them to go home, I heard all this chattering from outside. What did I see? Mama raccoon on the roof across the alley, coaxing her little cubs up the drainpipe where they would then tightrope along the roof’s edge for a couple of yards, then wiggle down to the awning and into their dark and cozy den – which happens to be my neighbor’s attic crawl space.

The chattering was the mom telling them to hurry, I’m sure. It was also the babies grunts and whines as they tried and tried to do as mom said, only to fail and have her lead them down instead. Where they wound up is anyone’s guess. The babies are at that awkward stage – too big for her to carry home and too small to get home on their own.

I don’t want them in anyone’s attic and I’d rather they live away from our neighborhood but… I find myself now concerned about their safety and hoping they’ll soon get that upper body strength necessary to find their way back “home”.

For your viewing pleasure… this is what I watched from my window this morning:

Homeschooling in New York City may seem like a rarity but it has become quite the movement. Even I, a native New Yorker, originally thought of homeschooling as something done in more rural areas. Instead, many New York families have chosen to pull their children from public school and use the vast wonders of the city as their classroom. There are museums, science labs, historical sites, various cultures and cuisines. So much, that years worth of curriculum could be covered without traveling beyond a few subway stops.

“Great. But what about socialization?”

That question is the first in everyone’s mind when I mention homeschooling my teen. It’s a logical concern and, before we started the process, we wondered about it ourselves.

Recently, I was speaking with some new friends about homeschooling when the issue came up. I answered, saying how there truly isn’t much socialization in school during school time. The comment was met with amusement and I found myself confused. Then I realized that, of course, there is interaction in school, but is it really socialization?

Socialization according to Answers.com is “(psychology) The process whereby a child learns to get along with and to behave similarly to other people in the group, largely through imitation as well as group pressure.

Hmm. “Learning to get along… though imitation as well as group pressure.” Not sure I like that definition.

Let’s try another… from the FreeDictionary.com: (Psychology) Psychol the modification from infancy of an individual’s behaviour to conform with the demands of social life

“conform”. Well. I’m not sure how I feel about that either.

One more… from Meriam-Webster.com: the process by which a human being beginning at infancy acquires the habits, beliefs, and accumulated knowledge of society through education and training for adult status.

Ah. Now that works for me. “Acquiring… through accumulated knowledge of society through education and training.”

No “imitation”, no “group pressure” and no “conforming”.

For many homeschoolers the difference between the first two definitions of socialization and the final one is monumental and is, indeed, the difference between socialization through public school versus socialization through homeschooling.

Most often, children in school interact with children their own age. Occasionally, there is interaction between grades but it is usually limited. They pick up on each other’s habits – both good and bad – fashion trends and attitudes. Homeschooled children regularly interact with children of all ages as well as with adults. During spontaneous and/or organized activities, the older kids in the group will look out for the younger kids, engage them and play with them. Not all the time, of course. Just enough to give the young ones a sense of comfort and security and the older ones a sense of responsibility, belonging… and independence. The kids often hold conversations with adults as well – parents of other homeschoolers, or, as in the case of my daughter, customers in our family photography business.

The socialization aspect of a homeschooler in this new millennium is a wondrous thing. Here in the city, there are thousands of homeschoolers and many belong to local homeschool groups. Curriculum is recommended and shared. Activities are organized and varied. Interaction with others is part of life and learning.

Of course, homeschooling is not for everyone. Some children might find it restrictive and suffocating, while others might find it exhilarating and liberating.

For my family, the words “exhilarating” and “liberating” hardly begin to describe the wonder that the process of homeschooling has brought to our lives.

I’m curious. What are some of your first thoughts when you hear a family is homeshooling? Or… if you’re a homeschooler, what are some of the reactions/responses you’ve received from people when you discuss homeschooling?

City living presents few opportunities for gardening or lounging in hammocks on balmy summer evenings. I often wish I had a yard with a swing-set and a gazebo. Willows to lie under. Vegetables to pick. Quiet space. Private space.

Space.

My yard is attached – on three sides – to other yards. One at each flank and one behind. And each of those yards is attached to three more the same way. Links in a chain forcing neighbors to be neighborly – and here neighborly means respecting the precious and limited space between us for the buffer it is.

I don’t always see my yard as small. I often peer down at it from my bedroom window and smile. It’s home. It’s cozy in its suburban way.

You make due with what you have. I have this:

When I could have this:

There are few secrets in my neighborhood and others similar to it. A quiet evening in this borough of New York includes the clamor of family conversations, radios with the volume at medium, piano practice, neighbor’s sneezes and more, flowing out open windows, mingling as they waft along on a breeze through the alley made up by our yards.

The rail is only feet away. It rumbles by on schedule, shaking the foundations. Planes crisscross overhead. Their roar is like a pause button for conversations. You get used to the noise. Sometimes only aware of its existence when another place offers silence. And then the silence is almost unnerving.

But here, as evenings progress to night, mockingbirds taunt us. Tease us. Keep us awake but smiling as they sing one song after another. Some seeming well off key. Others cheerful and carefree.

Listen here… this is precisely what can be heard through my open windows late at night and early in the morning:

I can complain about city life and the lack of elbowroom. Or I can embrace it for what it is. Take pleasure in the nearness of people, the tenacity of nature, and relish every moment for what it is rather than what it could be.

What’s in your space that you once wished were different but now appreciate as uniquely yours?

It’s been four years since we first heard eerie scratching and crunching above our heads at dusk and dawn only to learn a family of raccoons had taken up residence in our attic crawlspace.  Since that time, we and the raccoons have taken turns sealing and ripping up the grated vents which allowed the raccoons entry in the first place.

I’ll let you guess who did the sealing and who did the ripping up.

Here’s my first take on the experience – Shhh-What’s that noise?

Many of us in our little row of attached homes have bolted the grates in place in such a way that the raccoons no longer fight to get in. Others have been less fortunate. Take this poor guy at the end of the row near the rail tracks…

How about a closer look…

Cute. Kinda. As long as it’s in ‘someone else’s’ attic.

Yeah. There they are. Two here in the photo and one already on the ground after having slid, headfirst, down the drain pipe. They’re not the most graceful creatures, you know. The chubby one who landed first, landed with a thud after he let go of the drain pipe about two yards above the ground. Not sure what possessed him to do that.

One thing is for certain about these guys – they’re resilient. They come back year after year. Every late winter/early spring, the mamas are looking for a place to den. They fooled us a few years ago when we thought we’d outsmarted them. Here are my two updates on the subject -Update 1 and Update 2.

But the raccoons weren’t outsmarted. Certainly not by us mere humans. They just didn’t need the safety of our attics anymore that year.

So, last evening, I sat on my porch for about twenty minutes watching these guys scratch and stretch and chatter on about… I don’t know… maybe how to get down from the awning without leaving lumps on their noggins.

They’re really cute from afar. But they’re wild animals and that means we all have to remain diligent with our kids and our pets. I know first hand how vicious these raccoons can be since they attacked a stray kitten in my yard this time last year. I don’t want to call in professionals who will be forced to destroy these guys. They’re only doing what they’re supposed to do – sleeping during the day and foraging for food at night.

Yes, they’re a nuisance. Yes, they’re scary. And yes – the worst – they could be sick and most certainly have fleas.

Call me a bleeding heart. I just can’t see putting down animals simply because they disrupt our quiet summer nights by strolling through our yards in search of food. I do think the owners of the house where the raccoons are squatting should seal up the vents in a more raccoon-proof manner but the rest, I think, should be up to Mother Nature.

What say you? How would you handle a family of raccoons in your neck of the woods… or in your cement block of city, as the case may be…

Justice served cold is still justice. There is unity once again in this country. Ten years ago, we were united in pain and determination. Now, we are – for the moment – united in celebration and remembrance.

The news showed people gathering at the White House. They were singing and cheering. At the World Trade Center, people were holding candles and singing the National Anthem.

Here, in my town, people poured onto the street to hug and clap one another on the back. Fireworks lit up the sky – those flashes of light, colorfully bursting above us, brought smiles and cheers from onlookers.

And then police cars and fire engines drove along the boulevard, their sirens whirring, their lights pulsing. The people grew quiet. Solemn. Some saluting. Some waving. Some bowing their heads. All clearly moved by memories of tremendous loss and incredible bravery.

The world is still not a safe place. And though we have taken this moment for all it’s worth, relishing in a sense of unity, happiness, grief and hope, America will Never Forget.

9/11/01

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It’s been four years since I rescued my daughter from the public school system. In those four years, we’ve come to understand how she learns, how she studies, how she struggles and how she excels. We’ve accomplished so much in these four years that a craving for more has filled us. I say ‘us’ because watching her learn this way has increased my desire to learn, to research, to find new evidence rather than rely on old assertions. A wonderful by-product of homeschooling is the ability for children to think for themselves and to form their own opinions based on a multitude of information from a wide variety of sources.

Daughter and I agree on some basic principles of life. However, there are areas in which we heartily disagree. I am forever floored by her ability to debate her view without resorting to the kind of mudslinging and finger pointing we so often see these days. I chalk that up to a well-read mind. One of confidence and poise. While she’s always shown this kind of silent confidence, I feel homeschooling has permitted her to nurture it. We’ve given her a safe environment in which to express her views – one where she will not be mocked, bullied or ignored but encouraged to share and expand on her thoughts.

As you can see, I am proud of my little girl – who is no longer so little. But now, I must start to let go, let her soar without me. Let her venture into a new experience where, hopefully, she will remain as poised and confident as she is now.

I’m speaking of her college years.

She is not quite 16, yet she is one subject away from completing her high school education. She is eager to begin college in the fall and we have been gathering information about that from all sides. One wonderful source of information for us has been from Kweller Prep. If this sounds like a plug for this learning center, then so be it. Point is, we knew very little about the process of preparing and applying to college before speaking with the people there. If you are in the New York City area, I highly recommend a consultation with them as they offer a range of assistance from tutoring to tests prep to finding scholarships to completing college applications and more.

Naturally, when it comes to homeschooling, there is a huge amount of information out there. Much of it is contradictory – with one side saying quality SAT scores are the be-all, end-all of college acceptance while the other side declares testing of any sort is of no consequence. Of course, the truth lies somewhere in between, and even then, morphs depending on the college of choice.

We are unsure where to go from here. Still looking into our options, my daughter feels confident that taking the SAT’s can’t hurt, while emphasizing her homeschool experience will enhance her appeal.

I will admit I was quite concerned about her entire education being reduced to a single test score. I am still uncomfortable with the idea. A child’s learning should not be boiled down to something so subjective – and test scores are subjective in that they do not show an entire understanding but rather an ability or inability to perform on command.

So the adventure continues. Research, sift, research sift, then form your own plan. That’s been our way for the past four years and will be our way for the rest of our lives. It’s an exciting existence, always filled with new discoveries. New desires. New interest in that which comes next.

We’re not anti-establishment, nor are we the follow-in-line type. We’ve created our own rhythm and believe it to be in harmony with others. If Daughter takes the SAT’s she’ll study properly, with help from a learning center like Kweller Prep. When she applies to college, she will stress her independence, her ability to motivate herself to learn and her interest in what others have to say.

If I sound proud of her, it’s because I am. And I am more than a little teary-eyed to have had the opportunity to watch her bloom while living fully in classroom that is this world.

It’s kitten season again! The shelter is housing a dozen and about a dozen more are being fostered by some of our most generous volunteers. See how precious they are… and remember… they ALL need a safe and loving home.

The Freedom Tower is no more.

Apparently, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey feels the name is not marketable. Personally, I find that hard to understand. I mean, if they called it Satan’s Tower, well, then maybe I could see the problem. But a building in the heart of New York called the Freedom Tower is difficult to market?

What will the new name be? One World Trade Center. It’s not just the address, but the name. Because that’s so much easier to market? One and Two World Trade Center were destroyed on September 11th, and repeatedly on news channels throughout the following months. They retire numbers from baseball players who have made an impact and passed on yet they don’t see a need to retire these numbers but rather reuse them?

I know. It’s just a name. And yet it’s not. It’s a symbol. It’s our landscape. It’s our first responders and other innocents. It’s our community and we fought to survive its destruction. We pay tribute there annually as a way to insure we never forget the lives lost and destruction. The “Freedom Tower” was supposed to stand above the rest as a beacon of freedom over terror.

But the name is not marketable.

Interestingly, there’s only one tenant signed on at the moment. A Chinese firm. I wonder if the Freedom moniker would have been dropped if the first lease holder were not a company from a communist country. Can’t help it. I have to wonder because the name means everything to the average New Yorker.

Who, by the way, will continue to call this building The Freedom Tower the same as we call Avenue of the Americas, Sixth Avenue.

It’s not defiance, really. It’s not a New York flip-off. It’s just New York pride and sentiment. Freedom was threatened that beautiful September day. Freedom has struggled to survive around the world since. And for New York, at least, Freedom will soar high above the city once again in the Freedom Tower which stands, as a tribute, on the ground of One World Trade Center.

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been hearing songbirds in the wee morning hours. I wake to them and smile. I can’t say how much I love that pure and happy sound. It makes me think of balmy breezes, blowing window sheers and quiet warm-weather nights.

I heard the songs just yesterday morning – despite the 22 degree wind-chilled air.

This morning, I heard nothing.

I heard nothing partly because the birds weren’t around, partly because the heavy overnight snowfall cushioned all sound, and partly because… who’d want to sing on a cold dreary morning like this?

Snow can be beautiful. Virgin white. smooth and fluffy. Or it can be terrifying. Ice dimpled, wet and heavy.

This morning we have a mix of both. Unfortunately, the smooth fluffy stuff is on the grass and tops of cars… at least it looks that way. And the ice dimpled sludge is in the street making it very near impossible for cars to get up the hill in front of my house.

Well, if I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself today for sure, I do now. I’m going to shovel… and hope no one hits my car… though during the night someone, apparently, came close.

Yeah… that’s my car parked by the tree and that’s… someone else’s car… stuck on the icy snow in front of me at an angle toward the street.  Yikes. Wonder just how it got in that position. I have to admit, I’m kinda glad I didn’t see it happening.

I suppose it could have been worse. My car could have been parked on this street…

What’s it like by you? Warm balmy breezes or icy winds and white skies?