Monday, January 27, 2020

Here's a Bright Idea: Visit a National Park


140 years ago today -- Jan. 27, 1880 -- Thomas Edison's received his patent for the light bulb.

I learned this fact on Saturday on a visit with some photography friends to the National Park Service's site in West Orange, NJ.

This is one of my favorites of all the national parks in New Jersey. Like the Great Falls in Paterson, the Thomas Edison National Historical Park is close to home... and very photogenic.

You can take a virtual tour using the National Park Service's great online resources, including this picture guide

To me, our national parks always manage to provide enlightening perspectives. I mean, you'd think light bulbs would older than 140, considering all the advancements since, right?

Here's a short slideshow with some of my images from this weekend:


I hope this encourages you to visit and take in some history. The rangers there are friendly and helpful.

And photos, including selfies with life-sized Edison cutouts, are welcome (provided you don't use flash).

This is in contrast to the now-closed J.D. Salinger exhibit I recently visited at the New York Public Library, where all photography was prohibited.

I suppose, though, that was on-brand for Salinger, who provided his own enlightening perspectives in his own way... and who, alas, died 10 years ago today, 130 years after the invention of the light bulb.

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Fighting to Save Endangered Historic Sites

Photo: David Woeller

You and I will never again have the chance to see, in real life, one of the New Jersey's most iconic sites -- the rustic A.M.E. church in Bivalve (on the state's southern shore).

This David Woeller photo is reprinted with permission from a 2014 story in The Press of Atlantic City, one of several news items in recent years about art or photography exhibits that have included images of the church.

This building was demolished this past week.

Here's an Instagram post by @tinychurchesnj with links to several photos and detailed comments about this sad news.







The #Bivalve AME Church was lost this weekend. We have contacted the news but haven’t seen any coverage yet besides these posts from Facebook. The property was owned by Bivalve Packing Co and we are told they had plans to restore the church. The last we saw was over the summer when we shared a photo of the old roof ripped off with a post that said it would be replaced. Apparently it never was. The rain poured in for half a year until the structure was so deteriorated it got torn down. We don’t know why Bivalve Packing didn’t finish the restoration. Why the destruction was sped up by the removal of the roof or the demolition by bulldozer, we also don’t know. We only wish we knew about it before it was too late. This is a major loss to the black history of South Jersey. #thisplacematters #demolitionbyneglect #demolitionisnottheanswer #historicpreservation #historicpreservationmatters #someplacenotanyplace #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #southjersey #portnorris #commercialtownship #mauriceriver #cumberlandcounty
A post shared by Historic NJ Churches (@tinychurchesnj) on

There are so many evocative photos of this church. Here's photographer Francesca Frank posting this week on Facebook:



The loss of any church is a loss to New Jersey, but this one is particularly sad.

I post photos of churches from around the state every Sunday at @foundinnj, and several of the sites I've visited are currently for sale (the New Jersey Jesus Baptist Church in Garfield and the Alpine Community Church).

When I heard that the Friends of Waterloo Village had disbanded at year-end 2019, I feared for the United Methodist Church there too. But then I was happy to learn that this church is not only still holding services every Sunday morning at 10, it is also sponsoring Feed Fest 2020 on Sunday, Feb. 9 -- a family-friendly party to help feed those in need.

---------

I was also happy to learn this week about "Saved or Lost Forever," a documentary by Preservation New Jersey, scheduled to premiere at a March 4 fund-raiser at Newark Symphony Hall.

Below is a video preview (with event information here):




As a recent story in The Record notes, one of the sites mentioned in this video -- Camden High School's "Castle on the Hill" -- has already been leveled.

Another story in The Record describes how protections for Liberty State Park have failed amid a billionaire's push to expand a golf course into the wetlands.

These too were/are sacred places. They deserve to be cherished and protected.

I am grateful to Perservation New Jersey for their good work, and to all the photographers, artists and neighbors who capture and preserve the beauty and history of our home.

And yet I am horrified by this last photo of the A.M.E church in Bivalve...

Photo: @tkportnorris on Instagram

---------

Here's a hopeful postscript to this post, based on a 1/22/20 article in The Record:

Sunday, January 5, 2020

Epiphany in Paterson, 2020 Update


Last year, I posted here about a visit to a small church in Paterson, NJ, on Epiphany Sunday.

I returned there today, and posted an update on Instagram (see below).

Spoiler alert: there’s a happy and hopeful ending.




This is the altar at St. Bonaventure’s in Paterson, appropriately aglow on the Festival of Lights, #Epiphany Sunday. Today I took Mom there to hear the Chopin Society Male Choir on its 25th annual visit to sing #Polish Christmas carols during Mass. Mom happily sang along. She will be 88 later this month, and grew up in a Polish-speaking household in Garfield NJ. It was a morning of light and nostalgia and hope for the future. The pastor happily announced that this past Friday he had received word from the Franciscan Friars of the Holy Name Province that the parish would not be closing its doors. The friars, dwindling in numbers, are lately forced to give up some ministries. St. Bonaventure’s has served #Paterson since 1878. Fr. Daniel said that in 2020 the parish would redouble its efforts in the community, particularly in serving the poor. I wrote about my visit here last year too. You can read that at the temporary link in my Instagram bio. #njchurcheverysunday ⛪️
A post shared by Found in NJ (@foundinnj) on

Monday, December 30, 2019

Page 364 of 365, And I Can't Yet Close One Book

It's page 364 of 365, and I have been defeated in reaching my self-imposed challenge of reading 30 books in 2019.

I got stuck in the mud trying to finish the last three books I chose.

In fact, I still haven't finished the third: "Just Mercy," lawyer Bryan Stevenson's tale of his attempt to free a man wrongly condemned to die on death row.

I can't finish this book because every time I try to dive back in, I get too worked up: the injustice presented here is too overwhelming.

I chose this book on the recommendation of a friend who said it would "change your life."

It certainly has. I now trust no one.

This is "To Kill a Mockingbird," updated for our times, stripped of any literary pretensions.

There's a film adaptation too, and "Just Mercy" will premiere widely nationwide on January 10th. So yes, Roger, I'll see you at the movies.

Here are two other books that took me forever to finish:


Death in VeniceDeath in Venice by Thomas Mann
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Having fond memories of this novella from my school years at Notre Dame, I started reading the Kindle version... and found myself stalling, putting the book aside, then dreading to reattempt to follow the stilted language of the opening pages. This was the "Dover Thrift Edition," translated by Stanley Appelbaum. (In his prodigious and accomplished career, he had translated Ovid's "Art of Love," another book I fondly recalled from school.)

But I guess I'm not in Indiana any more. Having lived in New Jersey for so long, I can now officially confirm I have no patience.

I eventually tried the Audible version of a newer, award-winning translation (by Michael Henry Heim) read by Simon Callow. Somehow, listening to a sophisticated English accent made the passing words and story tolerable. But disappointing still.

I wasn't moved by the book. The main character is simply creepy. The decay of the setting isn't as profound as I once thought. The Venice of Gustav von Aschenbach is Disneyland compared to the portents in the real world today, Venice included.

College Me would have chalked up my disappointment to the translation. I've always been wary of literary works that are not in their native language. But as Michael Cunningham notes in his very wise introduction: "All novels are translations, even in their original languages... None of us reads precisely the same book, even if the words are identical."

The thing is, I can't tolerate leaden genius any more.

On this, perhaps Aschenbach and I would agree: Let me be awed and thunderstruck by all the simple beauty in the world, even as our world begins to fall apart.


Super Pumped: The Battle for UberSuper Pumped: The Battle for Uber by Mike Isaac
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

THIS is a really good book... although not quite as good, even if in the same vein (excuse the expression), as last year's "Bad Blood."

The journalism here is terrific. The problem -- and why I kept putting this aside before finishing it -- is that there are no characters to root for.

Not only that, but all the bad guys -- and, yes, they are all guys -- wind up insanely rich in the end.

It was painful to read about all the excess, all the wasted wealth, all the casual crimes (the incident of a female Uber employee's head being forcibly shoved into a pile of cocaine is simply noted in passing).

There's no moral to this story, and so much damage done in the wake of Uber's success.

It's page 364 of 365, and I'm ready to close the book on the "Super Pumped" decade, when technology combined with greed to widen the gap between rich and poor.

I have to believe that in the 2020s, Mike Isaac will have better stories to tell.

View all my Goodreads reviews

Friday, December 27, 2019

Pics, Or It Didn't Happen

Walking up Fifth Avenue: I was there
If you find yourself on Fifth Avenue before January 19th, I recommend spending some time lost in the J.D. Salinger exhibit at the New York Public Library.

It's free, courtesy of J.D. Salinger Trust and coinciding with the centennial of the author's birth.

On public display for the first time are papers, photos and other personal items belonging to the quirky, reclusive literary icon.

Salinger didn't publish anything after 1965, 45 years before his death, but he evidently kept writing long after moving from New York to New Hampshire. So many notebooks, so many letters, so many words.

The family photos on display are particularly touching, even more so to me than his actual Royal typewriter or the handwritten margin notes on the author's galley of "The Catcher in the Rye."

I wish I could show you some of these items, but -- in true Salinger style, in this cramped exhibit space where you will be instructed to circle single-file from left to right -- no photos are allowed.

The hallway leading to the Salinger exhibit's guarded entrance
Cellphones, coats and bags need to be checked before you enter. You can take photos anywhere else in the library, just not here. It's strictly enforced. There's a guard at the front door and another inside ready to pounce on any raised, smuggled phone.

Which begs the question: Since I can offer no pictures of the exhibit, how can you believe I was there?

---------

Photography stops time. It's magic... and intimate, and precious.

It's why I take candid photos of my family. Or why I have two Instagram accounts. Or why I've formed friendships with people who come home from work and wash up, then travel somewhere to capture a fleeting image.

All these photos I've taken have taught me to stop for a second, and marvel at the everyday things that hide in plain sight at the edge of the miraculous.

Every image proves I was somewhere; every somewhere never stays the same.

After retrieving my cellphone and coat after visiting the Salinger exhibit, I kept walking and walking up Fifth Avenue, without any tie on or anything.

All of a sudden, something very spooky started happening.

Every time I came to the end of the block, I had this feeling that I'd never get to the other side of the street. I thought I'd just disappear.

So I started to make believe I was talking to Salinger, and I'd say, "Please, Jerry, don't let me disappear."

When I reached the other side of the street, I raised my cellphone and took another photo.

Jerry, I knew, would understand. Having just had a glimpse into his real life, I realized he was just like everyone else. He wrote all those words because he was afraid to disappear too.

---------

Happy New Year, every one. Here are my "Top 9" photos from my Instagram accounts in 2019:

@bvarphotos

@foundinnj

Sunday, December 22, 2019

My 3 Hashtags


On Instagram, I post weekly pizza- and church-related photos (check out #njchurcheverysunday and #njpizzaeveryfriday).

These are sprinkled with random #datenight images from outings with the long-suffering (and much-beloved) @othersideofdatenight.

In captions this week, I briefly provided some context (see the posts embed below).

I invite you to follow me at @foundinnjOf course, I'll follow you back. Mostly, I post on social media to connect with and learn from others. I greatly admire people who create things.

Also, take a look at my "Found in New Jersey" Tumblr for daily posts of interest from around the Garden State.

Some posts there are not original, but all are attributed. They wouldn't have to be, though.

As Lin-Manuel Miranda once observed: "Everything is legal in New Jersey." 😎




Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Offering Prayers for the Homeless on Thanksgiving

This morning at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, Dr. Kim Harris led the congregation's response in song to Psalm 34 (a psalm that, in its original form, is a thanksgiving in acrostic form, each line beginning with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet):

"The Lord hears the cry of the poor; blessed by The Lord."

Nothing unusual about that. What followed was, indeed, unusual.

Iman Dr. Tahir Kukiqi of the Albanian Islamic Cultural Center was at the pulpit reciting from the Quran in his native language (just hours after a deadly earthquake had struck his homeland). It was, he explained, a message of hope -- and he ended his remarks by proclaiming, "God bless the United States of America." A video snippet follows.



Bishop Victor Brown of the Mt. Sinai Christian Church, Rabbi Joseph Potasnik of the New York Board of Rabbis and Rev. Que English of The Bronx Christian Fellowship Church also offered readings, remarks and prayers.

The theme among all these religious leaders was a re-commitment to eradicating homelessness. As Cardinal Timothy Dolan remarked, "If we don't speak out on behalf of the homeless, who will?"

Mayor de Blasio at the pulpit
James Addison shared his personal story of his journey from homelessness to, now, operations manager for Life Experience and Faith Sharing Associates, a group that serves the homeless. He urged Thanksgiving donations to organizations such as the interfaith Coalition for the Homeless.

Then Mayor Bill de Blasio stepped to the pulpit to remind all that the homeless are no different than any one of us.

"Every one of them fell down for a reason; it's our job to pick them back up," the mayor said.

He asked any who know of homeless individuals among their families or acquaintances to call New York's 311 hotline. City agents will work on individualized plans to bring loved ones to shelter.

Cardinal Dolan ended the simple interfaith prayer ceremony by noting that he would soon see his family for Thanksgiving, and that there are three words that universally give people a sense of warmth and joy:

"I'm going home."

Cardinal Dolan greeting students
The ceremony was especially meaningful to me, since I now work in Manhattan after spending years driving to and from a corporate park in suburban New Jersey. Homelessness isn't as hidden to me anymore.

Is this really an insolvable situation? Can prayer really help? Can money?

Relatedly, I received an email today from my alma mater, Notre Dame, on the 177th anniversary of the university's founding. It includes a wish for a Happy Thanksgiving, and this link to students in Our Lady's Concert Choir singing "The Road Home," Stephen Paulus' musical adaptation of a poem by Michael Dennis Browne.

Its next-to-last line is both eloquent and haunting: "There is no such beauty as where you belong."

Tell me where is the road I can call my own,
That I left, that I lost, So long ago?
All these years I have wandered,
Oh when will I know
There's a way, there's a road
That will lead me home? 
After the wind, after rain, when the dark is done,
As I wake from a dream in the gold of day,
Through the air there's a calling
From far away,
There's a voice I can hear
That will lead me home. 
Rise up, follow me, Come away, is the call,
With the love in your heart as the only song;
There is no such beauty as where you belong,
Rise up, follow me, I will lead you home. 

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Non-Fiction for Adults: Weinstein to Hart to Nabokov

A book store in Nyack, NY; photo by @bvarphotos
With the untimely death of the New York Mets 2019 season, I’ve had time to catch up on some reading these past few weeks.

I realize, now, that all these recent reads have been non-fiction titles – and that last week, on the first Thursday in November, much of the world celebrated #NationalNonfictionDay.

For children.

While many great reads were suggested for young adults on social media last week, let me offer a few non-fiction titles reviewed for adults.

They are filled with words that are heavy with nothing but trouble: Weinstein to Hart to Nabokov.


Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators by Ronan Farrow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

After reading this book, I can’t even…

I can’t even believe the breadth and depth of Harvey Weinstein’s behavior – or his enablers.

I can’t even believe that NBC News refuses to conduct an independent investigation of how it botched the handling of this story.

I can’t even express how much I admire the tenacity and talent of Ronan Farrow.

Like “Bad Blood,” “Catch and Kill” is another great work of investigative journalism. It is an outstanding read, chronicling the abuse of power. It was the best book I read all month… and so far this year.


The Front RunnerThe Front Runner by Matt Bai
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book – originally titled “All the Truth Is Out” – is an earnest recounting of Gary Hart’s place in history.

I read it after recently watching an earnest movie adaptation.

The movie was OK. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy the book any better than I enjoyed the movie. Earnest is not my cup of tea. I prefer Ernest, as in Hemingway. Also, I’m not a big fan of politicians.

Still, I am a big fan of journalists, and it’s hard not to be impressed by author Matt Bai, who, until recently, wrote political columns for Yahoo News.

Until recently, I was a media relations director for Yahoo’s corporate parent, Verizon.

Bai’s world and mine never collided. Even though we both received paychecks from the same company, the writers and editors who worked on Yahoo, TechCrunch, Engadget, HuffPo and other Verizon-owned media properties were never, as far as I could ever tell, interfered with by their corporate parent. In this way, Verizon was more supportive of journalists than, say, NBC News was of Ronan Farrow.

On both sides (corporate and publishing), we valued objectivity and professionalism. And humanity. Every time TechCrunch mentioned Verizon in a post, it added an editor’s note describing the company as the site’s “corporate overlord.”

This was as it should be. At one point, we in Verizon’s communications department even thought of purchasing “Corporate Overlord” t-shirts as a team-builder, but some PR issue or another diverted our attention.

All of which is to say that I do not pretend I can research, write and provide context as well as Bai and his colleagues.

I’m just a lowly reader, but this book didn’t engage or excite me.

That is, except for two redeeming scenes: the recounting of two of the author’s interactions with Gary Hart that gave me goosebumps.

I’ll write more about one scene when I turn to Nabokov. For now, take it from me, the final pages of Bai’s book are evocative and profound.

There’s a question left hanging as the book ends, delicately suspended in mid-air, described with extraordinary perspective and heartache.

Bravo, says the former corporate overlord. Bravo, I say again, for what it’s worth.


The Real Lolita: The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel that Scandalized the WorldThe Real Lolita: The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel that Scandalized the World by Sarah Weinman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The title says it all here, especially the breathless part about “the novel that scandalized the world.”

This is basically a solid true crime story about a heartbreaking tale of the 1948 abduction of an 11-year-old girl from Camden, NJ.

I’m glad that Sarah Weinman told this tale with such empathy and thoroughness. Where the book loses me is that, throughout, the author is shocked… SHOCKED… that Vladimir Nabokov might have had some knowledge of this crime when writing “Lolita.”

Nabokov makes one parenthetical reference to Sally Horner in “Lolita,” and a thorough vetting of his estate yielded one reference to her among the thousands of legendary index cards he used for notetaking and organization. This should hardly be surprising. It’s the 1950s version of finding a link in someone’s comprehensive browsing history.

My post, "Re-reading 'Lolita' in Middle Age"
Weinman uses this slim reed to indict, and even mock (see Vladimir chasing butterflies in his funny clothes; see his beleaguered wife Vera try to protect his image like a corporate PR director) the author for crass exploitation of a sex crime.

I don’t know how much Nabokov knew about Sally Horner and, frankly, I don’t care.

I also don’t need Weinman to tell me that “Lolita” is exploitative at its core.

There was a time in my life – when I was a sophomore at Notre Dame and read the book for the first time – that I was enamored with its art.

There was, in fact, the Saturday night someone drove a group of us the few miles from South Bend, IN, to Niles, MI, where the legal drinking age was 18.

I wound up drunk at a dive bar, reciting the opening lines of “Lolita” by heart. That should tell you all you need to know about my prospects for dating during college, and how much I loved that book.

I’m insufferable that way. Still. When a friend recently asked why I had pursued another PR job rather than retire after leaving Verizon, I winced as I realized I was semi-quoting lines from “Annie Hall,” written by Farrow’s father:

Annie: The people here are wonderful. I mean, you know, they just watch movies all day.

Alvy: Yeah, and gradually you get old and die. You know it’s important to make a little effort once in a while.

I once loved... no, lurved... “Annie Hall,” but lately I can’t stomach watching Woody Allen movies. I’ve long since cleared my house of his books.

It’s because I’ve grown up.

I now regard Nabokov’s pretty words as nothing more than pedophilia played out in prostitution, threats and manipulation, as Lolita cried herself to sleep every night.

---------

In Matt Bai’s book “The Front Runner,” the author is conversing with Gary Hart many years after his PR debacle.

Hart is reexamining his life and quoting from, of all things, the New Testament.

He can’t quite shake the implications of Jesus’ parable of the talents. Hart wonders aloud to a journalist if perhaps he hadn’t put to best use all his God-given abilities and blessings. Then he almost begins to cry.

I feel that way about myself most days. I feel that way about Nabokov too.

What if Nabokov had written a bold and insightful story about someone like Hart – or the homeless woman I just passed on the street? What great work of art could Nabokov have produced on the theme of the manipulation of power among adults, perhaps in terms of a character like Harvey Weinstein?

What if he had simply written about the intersection of life and baseball?

Extra Innings:


Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets' First YearCan't Anybody Here Play This Game?: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets' First Year by Jimmy Breslin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As I discovered this past weekend, a non-stop plane ride from New York to the heart of middle America is the exact amount of time it takes someone like me to read this short book by Jimmy Breslin, whose writing is an acquired taste.

In 1963, only five years after the American publication of “Lolita,” Breslin wrote about the intersection of life and baseball.

He wrote about the 1962 New York Mets. My sin, my soul.

Let’s-go-Mets: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of only one step to end, at three, by howling at the moon. Let’s. Go. Mets.

The Mets, in the immortal words of Breslin, are losers – just like nearly everybody else in life.

This book is about the most poetic season of the most poetic team in the most poetic of sports. It’s recommended reading, full of life’s wisdom.

These days, I enjoyed it more than “Lolita,” although not as much as I enjoyed and appreciated Ronan Farrow’s book about Harvey Weinstein. I don’t know what that says about my life. I must be a loser too.

Look at this tangle of thorns.


View all my Goodreads reviews