Moynihan Train Hall

New York always keeps changing.  The Moynihan Train Hall topped my list of things to see after a six-month absence.  

 

I expected more bustle even on Wednesday afternoon.  

No matter how you feel about the architecture quality, it's a great improvement over Penn Station.  From crypt to cathedral.  Although I could do without all the New York State boosterism, especially the pervasive use of the word "excelsior."  Unless of course you're talking about the recent legalization of weed.  Excelsior means "higher" in Latin.

It took help from a very eager employee, who reminded me of the lonely Maytag repairman, to find the Kehinde Wiley stained glass.  It's located above the 33rd Street & Eighth Avenue entrance.

Wooden benches in the waiting areas are a nice touch.  Practical, too.

Most of the food vendors haven't opened yet.  Joe and Magda will be glad to see this one.

A complaint:  you can't purchase a ticket near where you catch a train.  Is that because they expect online ticket sales to predominate in the future?

I couldn't tell if this woman was homeless or not.

They've even spruced up the platforms.

plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

Let me tell ya, a hand-drawn map of Cherry Grove is not something I ever expected to see at the New York Historical Society.

 

Andrew suggested we go to see photos taken there more than half a century ago.  You live long enough and EVERYTHING becomes respectable.  Or, exhibition-worthy, at least.

Although you can't catch a sea plane anymore, things haven't changed that much in the Grove, or the Pines, its high falutin' sister to the east, where both of us have shared a home.  

Back in the day, the ferries (and upper bodies) may have been smaller

. . . but anonymous hunks abounded then and now.

Actually, I surreptitiously took this shot in 1988, my virgin summer in the Pines.  Photos like these were mostly below-the-radar before the age of Instagram.  Doesn't he look like a young Mel Gibson?  Cancel that!

Narcissism used to require two people.

Sometimes even today.

You can't beat a parasol prop

. . .for guys playing dress-up.

Who knew?  Looks like the Invasion had its origins in small craft on the Great South Bay. Bring back the Regatta--so DIY!

Hard to believe drag was once considered a "serious situation," even in Cherry Grove.  Kinda like "trouble" in River City.  With a capital "D"!

The curators did a great job of documenting the ebb and flow of notable visitors.

Marty Mann (left), the first woman to get sober in Alcoholics Anonymous, founded the National Council on Alcoholism.  Coincidentally, I joined that organization in 1989, the year after I began summering in the Pines.  And as far as I'm concerned, Carson (right) said everything that needs to be said on the dynamics of love.

Dog dads have been around forever.

Once upon a time, I was one, too.

Monticello Conundrum

For Christmas, Thom gave me a senior pass from the National Park Service good for lifetime free admission, along with the other occupants of any car where I'm seated.  We picked it up at the entrance to the Skyline Drive, a northern extension of the Blue Ridge Parkway.  If we'd continued driving, it would have saved us $35!

 

Instead we drove to Monticello (last two syllables pronounced like the musical instrument), Thomas Jefferson's estate which has appeared on the back of the nickel since 1938.  Talk about branding; Donald Trump eat out your tiny, tiny heart!  He probably would be impressed with Thomas Jefferson's personal gold crest, too. 

It's a fraught moment to be visiting the estate of our third president.  But Monticello pays lip service to the elephant in the room with a video that explicitly mentions Jefferson's unapologetic enslavement of African Americans despite fathering multiple children with Sally Hemings after the death of his wife.

Is there a better illustration of inequity than his living quarters and hers?

Jefferson's bedroom.

Hemings' "studio."

It's hard to reconcile Jefferson's reputation as man of the Enlightenment and co-author of the Declaration of Independence ("all men are created equal") with his personal behavior.  Monticello certainly accentuates the positive.  Like this very cool weathervane.

Which connects to this gadget beneath the portico so you always know which way the wind is blowing.  Especially in this turbulent era!

"Exterminate All The Brutes," Raoul Peck's take-no-prisoners indictment of white supremacy on HBO, probably has influenced my reaction to Monticello, but I was surprised to find a display of Native American artifacts in the foyer.

Not scalps, exactly, but close.

After the scale of the Biltmore, Monticello seemed almost like a dollhouse stuffed with things to keep an educated and curious mind engaged.

Chess anyone?

Skylights and windows flood the place with gorgeous light.

Look at the moulding.

Children's toys seem a little too tossed aside . . . 

and a tray of insulating cotton may unintentionally raise more questions than it answers.

Jefferson dined in this beautifully appointed breakfast room.  

Sally Hemings' brother--she had 12 siblings--cooked for Jefferson.

Here's TJ's equivalent of Thom's Mercedes which has double the capacity.  That's a comparison I never thought I'd make!

It's hard to tell, but it appears as if working conditions at Monticello may have been less oppressive than they were at the Biltmore.

I wish I could track down what Jefferson used this instrument for.

Students on a field trip got their "money shot."  Well, nickel shot, anyway.  Do kids even know what a nickel is anymore?  They're definitely seeing too many money shots.

Lots of flowers were blooming in the backyard.

Monticello's views aren't bad either.

The vegetable garden continues to be productive.

Although someone probably should have harvested the kale before it flowered.  Who knew?

Note the Trump-like sign below, attached to the gates of Jefferson's private graveyard.  The Monticello Association is responsible for the preservation of Jefferson's home. It also decides who gets to be buried here and refuses to admit his many descendants with Sally Hemings.  If I'd known that before visiting, I'm not sure I would have been so eager to go.  It's one thing to use the proper terminology when discussing Monticello's history.  It's quite another to perpetuate segregation ACTIVELY, even in death.

Here lies Jefferson AND a major conundrum of our times:  George Vanderbilt used his inheritance to build America's largest home and to pay his servants.  But who contributed more to America?  Do we celebrate one and cancel the other?