New York in the Spring

Spring break for us Fort Wayne teachers comes in nine more days. I can’t believe it is almost here. This year I am going to visit NYC with a friend of mine, Lora, from school and she is taking me to a Yankees game. I am not a big sports aficionado, but I do know what goes where and why. I learned to appreciate the drama and finesse of an American baseball game while watching the Cubs at Wrigley Field (in Chicago—not the bar) about 15 years ago. A baseball savvy friend sat with me and explained the Zen of it all and I finally got it. So, it’s off to Yankee stadium before they tear the thing down in a year or two. I will finally get to see Lora’s favorite player in person—Derek Jeeter (spelling).

Hopefully we can see some plays, but it doesn’t seem that there is anything new that we haven’t seen already. Wicked, Spamalot, and 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—done. I noticed that most of the musicals on Broadway are all remakes of something else lately. There is Beauty and the Beast, Lion King, The Color Purple, and even a musical based on Legally Blonde. Looks like someone else is having trouble in the creativity department. I guess we will just head up to the half-price ticket booth and take our chances. I am rarely disappointed when the lights go down and the curtain comes up in a Broadway theater.

One other thing I hope to accomplish is to go back to the Guggenheim Museum of Art. There is always something creative to see there. I remember standing and smiling, maybe even chuckling, at a half-wall sized painting of a mother standing naked in the doorway of her kitchen as she threw to the ground the casserole she had just baked. Her family was seated calmlyand distracted at the dinner table and they seemed not to notice her. A young man of around 25 asked me aloud what I thought was funny. He wasn’t angry, just curious. I said, “You’ve never been a mother, have you?” and we chatted for awhile. (I know, there I go—talking to strangers.) The other "art" (I almost said peice--but you will see why I changed it later) that made quite an impression on me was a Rpbert Maplethorpe black and white photograph of the torso of a man. This black man was dressed in a bright white suit. You could only see him from below his collar to the mid-thigh area. His pants were unzipped and his penis was hanging out (if that is the correct verb.) I was a little worried about my teenage children who were along on this trip. As I made my way down the spiral hallways to the lobby I noticed my husband having a conversation with a couple of the kids and their friends. He was asking what was art anyway? What is creativity? Who decides and who can censor? I thought in my head—I love this guy--and New York.