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Published: April 26th 2012
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Monday. It finally stopped raining sometime overnight, bringing a cool and cloudy morning. Gracie went to meet up with a friend in Brooklyn, while I decided to walk around downtown. I wandered from 23
rdStreet and Broadway to Herald Square, walking up and down the streets.
One sight I wasn’t prepared for is a Home Depot housed in a historic building near 5th Avenue on 23rd St. I took some pictures. I’m so used to seeing the big blocky suburban stores that this one looked like a Disney version or something.
Last week we saw the Met Life building where I used to work. The last job I had in NY was at the Pan Am building, which is built over Grand Central Station and blocks Park Avenue, so from a distance looks like it sits in the middle of the street. Today I got a good shot at that building—which is now the Met Life building. Life sure is funny sometimes. The only one of my job sites we haven’t seen is NY Bell Telephone way downtown. Maybe we’ll get there tomorrow.
I walked for many blocks on 3rd Ave. My parents used to talk about the 3
rd Avenue El, which was gone by the time I was born. It’s hard to picture how dark and noisy the street must have been with an el rumbling by every few minutes.
I visited a few thrift shops. Housing Works is an organization that supports people with AIDS, providing housing, medical and behavioral health care, job training, social support, and advocacy at all levels. The Gramercy Housing Works thrift store on 23rd St is laid out beautifully, with a boutique vibe, and sells furniture, books, designer clothing, and other types of gently used goods. Housing Works also has an online shop and a coffee shop- bookstore, and a chain of thrift stores around the city. The online auction site has one-of-a- kind and designer finds at
http://shop.housingworks.org/ The Irish bars on 3
rd Avenue are still there, but look a lot cleaner than in the days when I would wander in with my friends for an evening of drinking and a romanticized version of Irish nationalism. Malachy McCourt, Frank’s brother, wrote of his many adventures in these bars, making me wonder if we ever sang The Wild Colonial Boy together. There were always older Irish guys in these places
telling stories and ready for a sing-song. There were also younger Irish-American males who fancied themselves the reborn spirits of Padraic Pearse, James Connolly, and other martyrs of The Easter Uprising. I also recall a light dusting of sawdust on the wooden floors back then, and the never-ending smell of stale beer. Today, my peek in didn’t find much of the old smell or the old décor, except the obligatory Irish flags, but I did notice the bartenders, whose ancestors apparently bypassed the Emerald Isle altogether. There were plenty of broken capillaries and bleary eyes to be seen, though, on the men sitting at the bar. Some things have not changed.
I had bought a few books at the thrift shop, and I was getting tired of their weight, so it was time to go. Gracie texted saying she was on her way back from Brooklyn. We met in Queens for an early dinner of pizza, and arrived back at the apartment to read and rest.
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atty
non-member comment
nice pix
3 pics of home depot and one of people looking at something. No shots of Irish bars, or the thrift stores. And still NO DAMNED FOOD SHOTS!!!!