Nyctinasty: A Flower's Moment of Silence

Because my last posting to this blog commemorated September the Eleventh, it seems disrespectful on some levels to forge ahead (in terms of today's entry), without making some type of segue. Since this is the second Tuesday of September, which is when the attacks took place ten years ago, it seems, on some levels, more of an anniversary of the terrorist attacks than this past Sunday (which was the actual date, and of course, is when the various Memorial Ceremonies to honor those who died in the terrorists' attacks took place). 

Perhaps I find myself thinking this way because Sundays and Tuesdays are very different days in Lower Manhattan: on most Sundays it's nearly a ghost-town, while on Tuesdays, especially in the morning hours (the time of day that the planes flew into the World Trade Center), the area is bustling with thousands of people hurrying to work, school, or other obligations. Therefore, this past Sunday when the Memorial Ceremony occurred in Lower Manhattan, while it was a day set aside for solemn remembrance — as it should be — it might have been hard for those who are not from the New York City area to have a sense of the effect that the September the Eleventh had on those who were not working at the World Trade Center, but who by way of their daily routine witnessed the horror: the ones who worked in areas surrounding the World Trade Center, or who went to school near there, or who were there for other obligations. They were also deeply affected upon seeing the devastation and witnessing persons jumping out of the burning Twin Towers.

Moreover, the atmosphere was busier than usual that fateful morning, because on September 11th 2001, the Democratic Primaries (for the office of mayor) were taking place; and many folks were up even earlier than usual to vote before heading off to their respective agendas for the day.

Others, like Natalie B, my confirmation sponsor's wife, were frantically taking care of their personal tragedies. Although Natalie B lives in the Upper West Side of Manhattan (a good distance from Lower Manhattan), she was very much affected by the events that took place on that somber morning. In Natalie's case, she had received word that her husband (who had been in the hospital for several weeks prior) had taken a turn for the worst and was in the last hours of his life; so she needed to get to the hospital quickly. The hospital where her husband was staying is located on the East Side of Manhattan; and Natalie lives on the West Side of Manhattan. When the call came from the hospital, informing Natalie (who was in her late seventies at the time) of her husband's imminent death, she had been listening to the coverage of the planes flying into the Twin Towers, but details of the full extent of what was happening were not yet available, so she was shocked when she went outside of her apartment to "grab a cab" to go to the hospital, to find that there were no available taxis. Hence, there she stood amongst the honking of car horns; sirens from ambulances that raced by her; and the scurrying of pedestrians all babbling excitedly as they wondered if a third world war was upon us. Some wondering aloud if the world coming to an end. The only thing that Natalie knew at that moment, was that her world, as she had known it in over fifty years of marriage, was coming to an end. Her husband had been given last rites and she did not know if she could get crosstown to see him one last time! That is when Natalie experienced a New-York-kindess-of-strangers-moment: someone allowed Natalie to get in their cab — even though it was headed another way — and so she was able to get to the hospital to be with her husband as he  ultimately "joined" those who died on September 11th 2001, that second Tuesday of the month of September.

Natalie's story is one you don't hear in the coverage of the reading of the names of those who lost their lives on that fateful day, and it is one you don't hear in the poignant accounts of the hundreds and hundreds of children who lost a parent, but Natalie's story, and others like hers, are important too. And, so, in light of the aforementioned narrative, I'd like to request moments of silence for others who, like Natalie, lost someone on that day, because their private mourning of their individual loss may have taken a "back burner" in light of the events of that fateful day. 

Additionally, I know people including Ana D, Andrew J, Terry M, as well as Patricia Ruggiero, the secretary of Saint Peter's — the church which "housed" Father Mychal Judge's broken body — who were all working in Lower Manhattan on the morning of the attacks and, therefore, witnessed both the burning buildings and the people jumping from them. It must be difficult for them, and the hundreds and hundreds of people like them who witnessed this to get those horrific images out of their mind — even after all this time has passed. These folks are not included in the ceremonies; and I realize for security measures there must be a limit, but they still need moments of silence in their honor too. Moments of silence are something that provide great value; and even the flowers that I grow in my urban terrace garden seem to realize it.

   

For example, the normally — dare I say it  — perky flower, from my Ipomocea sloteri AKA Cardinal Climber Vine, (a vine mentioned in a few of my previous blog entries which you may refer to by clicking here and here as well as here and here)  knows the value of quiet time.

In the early evening hours — when it is still only dusk in New York City, "the city that never sleeps", and folks are enjoying their cocktails on their terraces — my Cardinal Climber is nodding off for the night, from where it lives on a trellis in my urban terrace garden (as evidenced in the photographs posted below).

The "process" of flowers closing up at dusk and into the night is called nyctinasty. When I was new to gardening, and did not know what was happening, I was horrified to see flowers close up because I thought that they were dying!  Later, as I had more experience gardening I was no longer horrified to see my flowers close up, as evidenced by my taking the opportunity for a photo-op which can be seen in the photographs of my "slumbering" Cardinal Climber, that are posted below.

I appreciate your indulging me by allowing me to share so many images, as my doing so borders on a parent or grandparent showing pictures of their little ones in play by play format. Still my Cardinal Climbers are awful cute, don't you think?

However, besides their being cute, their habit of shutting down, or giving into nyctinasty, is an illustration of what flowers can teach us humans about life, and of  the upmost importance in having moments of silence. May God be with you, dear reader, in your moments of silence as you perhaps pause to remember losses that don't make it to the media's coverage; and I by no means intend to show disrespect to those losses that do receive recognition; for loss is painful, both spoken and unspoken.

And with these thoughts, dear reader, I will return to my regularly scheduled programing of blog topics, on Thursday, September 15th 2011, my next scheduled date to post.

September the Eleventh: Ten Years Later

As most of followers of this blog know, as per my schedule, I do not normally post on Sundays. However, when I was walking home from my weekly volunteer work, I happened upon this American flag, hanging from a window of a brownstone that is located on a quiet street, and I thought I'd include it in my blog on this solemn day for anyone who happens to be stopping by the LLG (Last Leaf Gardener); for  my seeing the flag evoked other thoughts that I'd like to share — even though I have written about the events of September the 11th both last year on the ninth anniversary of the attacks, as well as yesterday (on the eve of the tenth anniversary of the attacks).

Presumably, the flag was hung in the window to commemorate the anniversary of the September Eleventh terrorist attacks which took place ten years ago today. Seeing this flag prompted me to wonder if the folks who had hung it from their window, had lost someone near and dear to them in those attacks; and also my seeing the flag caused me to remember that, in the aftermath of the attacks, and for a number of years to follow, someone had hung an American flag in a window of a building which is directly north of where I live and a building that my garden faces.

I recall seeing the flag every day in the window for nearly three years after the attacks; and, to give you a sense of perspective on the relationship of the window to my urban terrace garden, I have taken the liberty of including a photograph of the building I face (which I just took today, hence no flag in that window).

 

Because my best friend lives in this building (as I have mentioned in a previous blog entry, I have been made aware of the fact that people who live in this building have appreciated my garden (folks living there have expressed it to him, and he has told me); and although I never saw the man (that I later learned was named Josh Rosenthal) who had lived in the apartment with the flag in the window, it is likely that he saw me in my terrace garden.

The image posted below  (taken by Juan V) has an arrow (which I have added for purposes of this blog entry) pointing to what must have been Mr. Rosenthal's vantage point. 

Today as I looked up at that window, the window where there is no longer a flag (because his apartment was sold a number of years ago), I thought of Mr. Rosenthal's family, who, has, since his death in the World Trade Center, had a street — the street where he lived — named for him, as evidenced by the photograph posted below.

Therefore, even without a flag in the window, Mr. Rosenthal will aways be remembered by those in his neighborhood. If you would like to read about him, I have included a link to a New York Times Portraits of Grief page where you may do so by clicking here, and scroll down until you see the name, Josh Rosenthal. Moreover, if you'd like to read about the women that I had met who ultimately perished in the World Trade Center attacks (women that I have referred to in the aforementioned September the Eleventh blog posts), you may do so by clicking here and scrolling for Lashawana Johnson, and by clicking here and scrolling for Margaret Mattic.

I am not sure if today's extra posting on my blog offers any insights other than that sometimes when you hear that nearly 3,000 names — names of those who perished at the Twin Towers — were read today at the Memorial Ceremony, it might be hard to get a perspective on the individuals themselves and the impact they had on those near and dear to them. It is my hope that this entry will help to provide that for you, and if you knew of anyone who died on that fateful day, and want to read about them, here is the link to the general New York Times Portraits of Grief  page where you can look them up and read about a slice of their life.

9. 10. 11

While many folks wanted to honor this day because of the sequence of numbers ("9-10-11"), with a celebratory event, tomorrow is a somber day for it is the tenth anniversary of September 11th, 2001. I live in New York City now, as I did when the attacks took place.

Moreover, I came very close to working in the World Trade Center (WTC), a fact that I discussed in a blog entry, which  I made on September the 11th last year; where I made mention of the names of two women, Lashawana Johnson and Margaret Mattic; whom I had met at a job interview which I had had with General Telcom Inc. — a company which had been located on the Eighty-Third floor of One World Trade Center. My interview was ten years, and one month ago today, and that is also when I received the WTC ID (posted below) which I also included in last year's blog post

I recall both women (who ultimately perished in the attacks on the Twin Towers) with clarity; and my heart goes out to their surviving friends and loved ones — especially as they relive the event tomorrow morning; and as think of these women.  I am mindful of a Alexander Theroux quote, "September: it was the most beautiful of words . . . he'd always felt, evoking orange flowers, swallows, and regret". I pray that Ms. Johnson's and Ms. Mattic's loved ones  and friends are filled with the beauty of September, not the regret.

And I pray that the first responders, who are being excluded from the memorial of the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks, take solace in knowing the work that they did on that fateful day, and in the aftermath, had, and continues to have, value beyond price.

It is a shame that elected officials, many of whom were not even in an "official position", at the time of the attacks, cannot give up their space at the memorial for those who rushed into the burning and toxic filled buildings! Those are the individuals who need to return to the space — if they want — to make peace with the occurrences of that day. After all, elected officials could express their condolences in simulcast format.

Once upon a time, in the mid 1980's, an actor I knew (Richard Backus) had been cast in a theatrical production at the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park. Anyone who wanted to see the play had to sit outside for hours as tickets were not only limited, but they were also on a first come, first serve basis. Backus, as a cast member, was given complimentary tickets, but he turned them down, saying he would wait on line with his family and friends, just as others had to do. I certainly wish our elected officials had that same type of respect for their fellow man/woman/child, but my feelings about elected officials are for another day. 

This weekend, we mourn those we lost, and are thankful for those we have.

Nine Eleven: A Dedication to the Memory of Lashawana Johnson and Margaret Mattic

It is a beautiful September morning, much like the September morning nine years ago when planes flew into the World Trade Center, where I had been just three weeks prior for  a job interview. The photo-id posted above was taken moments before that interview at General Telecom Inc.
It had been a brutally hot Tuesday morning, and upon my arrival at the interview, a woman who introduced herself as Margaret Mattic (the receptionist), offered me a cup of cold water. Another woman, Lashawana Johnson, who interviewed me was very young, and she told me how she loved coming to the World Trade Center early in the morning to shop on the ground floor for her three children before heading up to work. As soon as I heard the news that airplanes had flown into the towers, I imagined Lawansha was there since she loved early morning before heading up the elevator from General Telecom Inc. Lawansha had not hired me for the position, and she had let me know this by having someone from the night shift — a woman named Carmen — phone me to let me know I had not been selected for the position. Because this interview was only three weeks before the attack on the World Trade Center, I still had my notes on circumstances that occurred, and I still had my WTC ID, therefore, I was ultimately able to track down Carmen.

Once I reached Carmen, she informed me that she lived in Brooklyn, in an apartment with a view of the Twin Towers, and had seen the planes fly into them, murdering all her morning co-workers at General Telecom Inc. This included Margaret Mattic and Lawansha Johnson. Over the years, I've gone to see their names printed in the squares of The September Eleventh Patchwork Quilt  at The Folk Art Museum in New York City and I've listened for their names being read in radio coverage of September 11th memorial services. Today, my morning's posting is to pay homage to their friends and loved ones with an image of a single rose from my garden.

Reflecting On 01-01-01

Happy New Year to you and welcome to my blog, The Last Leaf Gardener. Since tomorrow is the start of not just a new year, but a new decade, I find that I look back to how the decade began. The year 2000 began with all the Y2K frenzy. The following year 2001, came in much more peacefully, as evidenced in the photo above of a snow sculpture of the Madonna with Child, which I saw in Central Park on 01-01-00, after a winter snow storm. Unfortunately, that peacefulness would ultimately be shattered within nine months and eleven days, on September 11th, 2001 when airplanes flew into the World Trade Center, murdering thousands of people.

Today as I return to this peaceful image snow sculpture image, I'm reminded of the freedom to create. Snow sculptures that often pepper Central Park after a snow storm are one result of that freedom. I imagine the snow sculptures bring joy to those who create them, and joy to those who, like myself, see them when they walk in the "winter wonderland" of Central Park. However, since snow melts, these are fleeting moments.

Fortunately, I've preserved this solemn sculpture's moment in time in the format of a photographic image which I have rendered into a note-card, and it can be seen posted at the top of this entry. I have created and produced a limited edition of these cards which can be viewed on my web-site where they can be purchased.

Meanwhile, as the year and this blog move forward, many of my post  topics will be about my work as a photo-artist and my gardening endeavors as well as other gardeners. Additionally, from time to time I may post about a current event, but at the moment you and I are just getting acquainted, so I will leave you with this thought: Now that I've gotten the setting up of my blog underway (and making my New Year's resolution to stick with a posting scedule), it seems I may be passée. I understand many people have moved on to Twittering and Tweeting. It is my life story summed up in ten words: at the airport when the ship comes into the dock. Being a reflective soul, I'll probably stick to blogging over twittering and tweeting. Besides, as it is, while some of my posts will be snippets and captions, others may border on mini essays. My temperament reminds me of Herb Gardener, whom I happened to meet while working at a theater (but that is as "they" say, another story), and he told me that before becoming a playwright, he was a cartoonist and when the "bubbles of dialogue got bigger than the cartoon-characters, it was time to be a playwright." Similarly, as opposed to tweeting and twittering, blogs let you generate more in-depth content. I see them having greater resilience in terms of perception. But they require what many people seem to consider long-term commitment today:setting aside 20-90 minutes daily, weekly or semi-weekly. Still some bloggers are providing insightful or informative blogs which I hope to do also. I am in it for the long haul, and perhaps the Charles Schultz cartoon posted below sums it up:

As for this blog, I will post my first entry on January 4th 2010 and then every other day of the first week of 2010. I do not intend to write very much about me per se  throughout this blog, other than this first week to be spent discussing a few personal topics. My hope is that by introducing you to myself in this way, I will provide a foundation that  gives insight into my orientation as a photo-artist and my endeavors as an urban gardener.

Following this first week of this every other day of posting, I will be posting regularly on Saturday mornings, beginning Saturday the ninth of January 2010 (with the exception of Saturday, March 27th and Saturday, April 3rd and two Saturdays in October; the 9th and the 16th). 

From November 2nd of 2010 - November 23rd 2010, I will post on Tuesdays and Thursdays in addition to my Saturday morning postings. This means that I will post three times a week: Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday mornings. Occasionally, when a special event occurs on a given day between scheduled posts, I may post on that day in addition to the scheduled postings. However, beginning the day after Thanksgiving, November 26th, 2010, I will post every day until December 1, 2010.

After December 1 2010, I will post every other day through Christmas and then post every day from Christmas through the end of the year but these posts will be around mid-morning as opposed to mu usual early morning postings due to my schedule. It sounds complicated but I want my readers to know when they can expect new postings.

My 2011 posting schedule will be announced at the beginning of next year. Now on with The Last Leaf Gardener!