zoe - trip to new york

From: Gale Zoe Garnett
Date: Saturday, October 6, 2001 10:50 AM
Subject: Trip to New York

Hi Evie--

On 25 September, I went, by train, from my home city of Toronto to your home city of New York. Actually, I was heading first to just outside the city, where my godfather, very beloved and fierce, was having an 88th birthday.

When the train left Toronto's Union Station, it was early in the morning and I was sad, scared, and like most people in the hemisphere, over television-ed. I fell asleep. Woke up two hours later because there was...a presence. Eyeballs. I opened mine and was looking into the shiny black face of a "teenaged" labrador retriever. Delighted to see him, I exclaimed "Hiiiii!!!!". He licked me all over my face. His owner, an American policeperson, looked very annoyed.

"Oh", sez I, "He's the bomb-sniffer dog, right?"

"Uh huh".

"Oh. I'm really sorry (the Canadian National Word)...I'm new at this."

"It's cool. So's he. So are we all."

It was great to see my godfather. He talks of moving to California. Of walking along the beach. Of getting a dog. He does not seem frightened. He knows it's gonna be everywhere. He's 88. Worked all his life. Wants a beach and a dog and not to be cold.

Bayside, Queens is strange. If I lived there I'd be rich because, if you don't want a tuxedo of false fingernails, there is nothing to buy. Trying to get him a birthday present made this very noticable. An 88 year old Italian-American man in a tuxedo and major drag-nails. Sigh.

On the 29th, I went into Manhattan, looking for two pals, Eve and Alan, and needing to be in "my" New York--West Village and Soho. Stood for a long time in front of the fire station on West 10th St. All the candles, flowers, letter, children's drawings. The painting of the fireman, very fine, and very Tom of Finland, had been painted by Terry. In the 1980's. Terry had been my friend. AIDS-gone now. A fire fighter came out to remove the older flowers and replace them with new ones. I stood across the road, weeping but not making noise. Just water.

In Soho, there was a Buddhist shop with beautiful multicoloured prayer-cloths hanging from its awning. I went in. A young Tibetan man played me beautiful music. I bought a CD, and some music, for you. Now, back in Toronto, I wish I'd bought the music for me too.

It was still and deep and tender to see you, my friend. You were working. Making music (and seeking support for music). I agree with your friend David White. Create as if your life depends on it. Act as if other's lives depend on it. Thank you for that, Mr. White. Evie is making music. I am writing my second novel (which showed, on the computer, no action between 11 Sept and 4 Oct. I'm on it again, and glad to be with my parallel world, and the people in it). We are heading into heavy and strange times. It has been ratcheting up for many years, and too long ignored in this hemisphere.

We be alert
We be interested in the world
We be *part* of the world.
We reconfigure travel but keep travelling (that is how you learn about the rest of the world. Well, its how *I* do).
Bombs kill, art heals.
More art!!

Lots of love, my friend,

Zoe


	From: Gale Zoe Garnett Date: Saturday, October 6, 2001 10:50 AM Subject: Trip to New York Hi Evie-- On 25 September, I went, by train, from my home city of Toronto to your home city of New York. Actually, I was heading first to just outside the city, where my godfather, very beloved and fierce, was having an 88th birthday. When the train left Toronto's Union Station, it was early in the morning and I was sad, scared, and like most people in the hemisphere, over television-ed. I fell asleep. Woke up two hours later because there was...a presence. Eyeballs. I opened mine and was looking into the shiny black face of a "teenaged" labrador retriever. Delighted to see him, I exclaimed "Hiiiii!!!!". He licked me all over my face. His owner, an American policeperson, looked very annoyed. "Oh", sez I, "He's the bomb-sniffer dog, right?" "Uh huh". "Oh. I'm really sorry (the Canadian National Word)...I'm new at this." "It's cool. So's he. So are we all." It was great to see my godfather. He talks of moving to California. Of walking along the beach. Of getting a dog. He does not seem frightened. He knows it's gonna be everywhere. He's 88. Worked all his life. Wants a beach and a dog and not to be cold. Bayside, Queens is strange. If I lived there I'd be rich because, if you don't want a tuxedo of false fingernails, there is nothing to buy. Trying to get him a birthday present made this very noticable. An 88 year old Italian-American man in a tuxedo and major drag-nails. Sigh. On the 29th, I went into Manhattan, looking for two pals, Eve and Alan, and needing to be in "my" New York--West Village and Soho. Stood for a long time in front of the fire station on West 10th St. All the candles, flowers, letter, children's drawings. The painting of the fireman, very fine, and very Tom of Finland, had been painted by Terry. In the 1980's. Terry had been my friend. AIDS-gone now. A fire fighter came out to remove the older flowers and replace them with new ones. I stood across the road, weeping but not making noise. Just water. In Soho, there was a Buddhist shop with beautiful multicoloured prayer-cloths hanging from its awning. I went in. A young Tibetan man played me beautiful music. I bought a CD, and some music, for you. Now, back in Toronto, I wish I'd bought the music for me too. It was still and deep and tender to see you, my friend. You were working. Making music (and seeking support for music). I agree with your friend David White. Create as if your life depends on it. Act as if other's lives depend on it. Thank you for that, Mr. White. Evie is making music. I am writing my second novel (which showed, on the computer, no action between 11 Sept and 4 Oct. I'm on it again, and glad to be with my parallel world, and the people in it). We are heading into heavy and strange times. It has been ratcheting up for many years, and too long ignored in this hemisphere. We be alert We be interested in the world We be part of the world. We reconfigure travel but keep travelling (that is how you learn about the rest of the world. Well, its how I do). Bombs kill, art heals. More art!! Lots of love, my friend, Zoe
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