9/6/03 NY Water Taxi to Hunterspoint; 7 to Flushing; LIRR to Port; Papa's 84th B-day in Manorville; Russell the Chessmaster Tutor; Peter's EIDE:

Today I was to go to Long Island for a family function "out East." This usually involves me taking a subway to Penn Station, a Train (LIRR) To Port Washington, and then taking a car out to either Mount Sinai (Aunt, Uncle, Cousin) or Manorville (Nana & Papa). But today was an absolutely beautiful day, and I didn't want to waste it by traveling all in tin cans. So, I had some extra time, and I figured out how to make the trip a little differently.

I started by walking across Maiden Lane, over to the East Side of Downtown. At Pearl and Water streets, the roads were closed, and basketball courts had been set up in their place for an annual basketball competition event.

All sorts of impromptu courts and tents were set up for the event. I recognized it all, as I've seen it for the past two years while living at Water St. dorm, right next to where they hold it.

I continued on to South Street. The FDR drive is overhead. The east river is in front of me.

At the eastern end of Wall Street, sits "Pier 11." This is a major ferry boat pier for travel to Brooklyn and New Jersey.

See all the ferry lines drawn around the southern tip of the island of Manhattan on this map? See where they all seem to come together on the right side of the island? That's where I'm standing right now... Pier 11.

The actual Pier 11 building is brand new, and is very functional. It has permanent walls on three sides. To the left of this photo is the ticket office. But, as you can see, the wall that would be on the right side can lift up like a garage door on nice days, so you hardly feel like you're in a building at all. It's a fabulous design that you can't help admire on a nice day while waiting for the ferry.

Beyond the building (which is at the bottom of this photo, slightly to the right), the pier itself is a slab of concrete that shoots out into the East River. I walked quite a good ways out, and looked back at the city.

Looking North, or up-river, the Brooklyn Bridge is not too far away. Skywriting!!!

The very end of Pier 11 is a round structure that seems to have no function other than a mild attempt at an art installation.

Looking south from the same position affords a view of the Verrazano-Narrows bridge in the distance, 6 miles away. The cranes on the left are a container shipping facility in Red Hook, Brooklyn. On the right is Governors Island, with it's Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel vent shaft in white stone. And in front of Governor's Island, speeding towards me, is my ride! The new New York Water Taxi.

Once again, when asked for $8, I flashed my Circle Line I.D. and they left me alone. It is very generous of them. And I feel like such a celebrity! Or like an important ambassador or something. And really, I'm an ambassador for their company, as I dutifully point them out on my Circle Line tours.

We pass a sailboat. We head straight across the East River for Brooklyn, just under the Brooklyn Bridge at the "Old Fulton Ferry Landing." A ferry used to go from Fulton Street in Manhattan (about Pier 16) to Fulton Street in Brooklyn. To the best of my knowledge, the streets get their name from Mr. Fulton's ferry service.

The Zephyr passes by. That's "Circle Line Statue's" new boat. I work for "Circle Line Sightseeing." There are two Circle Line's in NYC. The former does the trips from the Battery, the latter works from 42nd street on the Hudson.

While sitting at the Fulton Ferry Landing, dropping off a few customers, and picking up a few more, I got this shot of Downtown Manhattan. The sky is strikingly blue. I wonder how long it will be until I stop thinking of it as "September 11th blue." And frankly, this is not quite as clear, or as blue as September 11th was in 2001. And when it gets that way now (as if often does, apparently during the first few weeks of September each year), it is strikingly beautiful, but also a strikingly poignant reminder, which can be unfortunately creepy.

At Fulton Ferry Landing. It's at the base of Old Fulton Street in Brooklyn. There are always people out on this pier, checking out the view of Manhattan across the water. The building straight ahead kind of looks like a lighthouse. It's not. It's an old firehouse, and the tower was used for draining water out of their hoses, as they were draped from the top of the tower to the street level. Today it's a home-made ice cream shop (closed on Mondays).

The Water Taxi has an inner cabin with plush fabric seats, and an upper deck with park benches. Today, almost everyone was upstairs. They had a nice load, which was nice to see. I like the idea of checkered cabs in NYC waters, and I'm rooting for them.

The next stop is Hunterspoint, Queens. This is a brand new service for NY Water Taxi as of this week. They've never been above Brooklyn Bridge in the East River before. New York Waterway's, the big ferry operator that does most of the NY-NJ service, used to do a run from Pier 11 in Manhattan to Hunterspoint, Queens, for the handful of commuters who found it a better way to get from Downtown to the Long Island Railroad or their car on Long Island. Last month, after about a year of service, NY Waterway announced that they were not attracting enough customers to make the service worthwhile. The small but consistent group of commuters who had come to love the service cried out, and New York Water Taxi stepped in. The NY Water Taxi boats are smaller, and their business model is designed to rely on less people per run than NY Waterway, and so the switch was made on September 2, 2003, seamlessly, without an interruption in service. The politics of ferries in New York City might bore many people, but I love it. Keep in mind that in the 1970's and much of the 1980's, the only ferry running to Manhattan Island was the Staten Island Ferry. We've come a long way since then. And so many people have never tried the ferry, and therefore can't appreciate the luxury, ease, reliability, and lack of congestion that this alternative provides.

Looking from the ferry landing in Hunterspoint, Queens, back to Midtown Manhattan.

The first thing I found upon entering Queens was a big parking lot. It was almost totally empty today. But on weekdays, commuters can drive here, park, and Ferry to Manhattan. All around the parking lot were weird, huge, industrial structures that reminded me of Red Hook, Brooklyn. Oversized geometric shapes, towering above, in a relatively open expanse.

The 4 black smokestacks are an imposing feature. The green Citicorp building in Long Island City is not to far away, visible on the far right.

Looking back across the parking lot at Manhattan.

The first establishment I pass is this surprisingly festive restaurant in a fairly desolate part of Queens.

A streetsign.

At the far end of the parking lot, another imposing structure. The ventilation shaft for the Midtown Tunnel. It passes right beneath this lot.

A two block walk brings me to the Long Island Railroad station that commuters can use to get home. It's the Long Island City station. The only problem with this whole arrangement is that only 5 trains per day, in each direction, on weekdays only, in peak commute direction only, stop at this station. So if you're not commuting from Long Island to Manhattan in the morning, like everyone else, at normal times, and reversing it at night... this station's not going to work for you. Today is a weekend so there are no trains here at all. The LIRR can't run many trains here because it's a total dead-end, as you can see in the photo behind the fence. It's hard to imagine a time when ALL LIRR TRAINS stopped here. The tunnels to Penn Station (and Penn itself) had yet to be built. And EVERYONE would transfer right here to a Long Island Railroad FERRY to 34th street and 1st Avenue in Manhattan. There, they could get directly on the 2nd avenue and 3rd avenue elevated trains, which went right to the ferry terminal. The tunnels were built in 1910, but many people, fearful of the concept of being on a train in a tunnel under water took the ferries. When that older generation of commuter retired, by the late 1920's the ferry service ended and this station almost forgotten. Now, suddenly, it's starting to come back.

A sign leads you to the "Ferry to Manhattan." The Water Taxi is nice because it will drop you off at East 90th street, E34th street, Wall Street/Pier 11, Battery Park/Pier A, or World Financial Center (WTC site) on the West Side. You have a lot of options!

I made a left when I saw a sign for the subway, and walked two more blocks until I came across this entrance to the 7 train's first Queens stop. The 7 train, westbound, stops at Grand Central, 5th Av/42nd st., and Times Square. Eastbound it goes out past Woodside to Flushing.

The tile-mosaic, repaired, and newly damaged.

This station has weird posts holding up the ceiling. You won't find posts like this elsewhere in the NYC subway system. That's because this station was not built for subway trains. It was built for trolleys that used to loop between Grand Central and here. The tunnels under the East River that the 7 train uses are called the "Steinway" tunnels, and they pre-date the Subway System, making them the oldest tunnels in use by the MTA.

I took the next 7 train to Main Street Flushing. It's the core of Chinatown, Queens, and the streets feel like another country.

Packed. It's a two block walk from the subway station to the Long Island Railroad station, which is on the bridge going over the street in the background.

People buying (presumably Chinese) food at a huge sidwalk-style stand.

I opted for American. I went to KFC and got myself a meal. Mmmm. So good, so bad. I had time to eat most of it before my LIRR train came. Flushing is on the Port Washington line, so it works out nicely.

And the final leg of my journey was waiting for me in Port Washington. Peter with the car.

With Mommy (Daddy was working an Owen Job today), we drove out to my Grandparent's house.

Barbara with her... needlepoint? Is that what this is called? I like the relaxing, almost meditative methodical nature of this art. It's low-stress, sew by number, but still beautiful and impressive when finished.

The coffee table conversation.

Peter looks at some of Nana's recipes.

Mommy and Aunt Diane and others flip through old scrap books and photo albums. This photo is of my Mother's Father during World War II. To the right is a cablegram he sent home from the war.

On the left, my grandfather with an uncharacteristic mustache. On the right, I believe one of his brothers.

The stained glass piece my grandfather and I made is shining beautifully in today's light. [Non-sequitor].

Old photos. Amazing. I really need to organize them into some sort of modern format, be it digital or DVD or something!

Papa's task is to grill the salmon!

He usually gets some spectators.

The chef at work.

The salmon at work.

Some of the oil spilled into the bottom of the grill earlier on and the flames kept flaring up, so Papa had to keep dodging them.

But it was worth it in the end. A beautiful plate of almost-too-rare salmon. My favorite.

The conversation at the table was entertaining as always.

At one point, Peter becomes hysterical.

There's Mommy on the far left wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, as old stories from her wacky childhood are re-told.

Papa always sits at the head of the table. Nana almost never sits down.

Following a wonderful dinner, Russell and I set about playing some chess. He always brings his chess board, which rolls up for portability, just in case. We played a game or two, and then, after I got my butt kicked both times, Russell offered to teach me some "moves." I was taught chess by my father, if I remember correctly. I played him many times as a child, until the one time I remember beating him, and then I stopped while I was ahead. I played some more in camp over the years, and I've been playing Russell at family gatherings for the past 5 years or so. I've never had any formal training in chess, and Russell has had quite a bit from at least one chess master. Wen Russell was very little, I used to go easy on him so he could win. Then, when he was about 5 years old, I suffered a terribly quick victory, and decided that I should win the next game to show off that I'm not so bad. He beat me again. So, I decided to actually play as hard as I could against this 5 year old freak, and I was unable to defeat him on my third attempt, quite frustrated, and quite shocked. Was I so stupid that I couldn't play better than a 5 year old, or had he become incredibly good at the game at an early age? I like to think the latter, and over the years, Russell has protected my dignity by proving that he truly is skilled at the game. I've not beaten him since. Not once. Nor have I seen anyone else. Including my father.

So, finally, about 6 years later, with plenty of time to realize that Russell is truly gifted at this ancient and intense strategy game, I respect him fully for it, regardless of his age. He is currently 11. And so when he offered to "show me some moves," I was very serious about this, and intent on learning a thing or two... and hopefully I'll be able to use this knowledge to win a game against him someday.

What I was not prepared for was the professionalism with which Russell conducted himself over the next 3 HOURS. He would walk me through a series of scenarios, like common opening moves, or common situations to find yourself in during the mid-game or end-game. And then he would reset the pieces in the blink of an eye, and would patiently and forgivingly walk me back through what I had just learned. It was kind of like learning the choreography for a play. And at first, it was rote memorization. And I often made errors, as I forgot which move was next, and he would let me make the mistake, and allow me to try again. He would generally allow me three tries to get it right before showing me, which felt like the perfect balance between productive learning and setting me up for failure. Then when I successfully navigated my pieces through the steps of this dance, he would re-set the pieces, and we would do it a few more times, as if rehearsing for a play. But unlike a play... once we felt I had a grip on it, he would then go back, and throw in a different move from his and, and we would begin to work through the different possibilities that could arise based on my opponent's reactions. And so I wasn't learning one set of moves, but an entire tree of possible moves, based on how the other player reacts.

And I was totally fascinated the whole time. I realized only after the 3 hours were over, that I had never ever had and formal training in Chess, and I came away with a true feeling like I had had a real chess lesson from a chess master.

Chess Master Russell with Chess Master mood lighting. [Actually the person taking this photo accidentally had their finger over some of the flash, which achieved this effect.] By the end of the 3 hours, my eyes were glazed over and my brain was on total overload. But for the first time I got a glimpse into the budding demeanor of this almost-young-man, at a stage of his life when his individual personality is starting to come to the surface. And whether or not Russell is interested enough in Chess when he gets older to stay with it, I know that he'll be allright no matter what, because he will always be able to make a buck, whenever he wants to, by giving people chess lessons, exactly like the one I just received for free. Any teacher should consider themself lucky if they have the level of patience, ability to communicate effectively, and base of raw knowledge and ability that Russell strongly demonstrated for me tonight.

And to make the whole experience even more official, Russell has his digital chess clock. Fancy!

Meanwhile, dessert preparations are underway in the kitchen.

Time to open the presents! This is Papa's 84th(??) Birthday Party!

Reading cards aloud is almost a family tradition. Otherwise, what's the point?

Looking in the bag.

Beauty supplies! Beauty supplies? Hair products for a man with very little. But..... he still has some, and that some needs lovin'.

Could this be an add for.... something?

Should I post this? Is this legal? Aunt Diane, Uncle Ira and Russell recently went to London, and they bought some "funny" gifts for us, including British Flag Undergarments for my mother. If you are seeing this photo it's because my mother has not see it yet and demanded that it be removed. :)

The "real" present was a bunch of Beatles Cards, framed. These were made in very limited quantities, and this is apparently a whole set, which is supposed to accrue value over time. It's also pleasantly decorative.

Most family gatherings don't go very late into the night, but everyone was in such good spirits that nobody kept track of the time. After dessert, Russell and I went back to learning chess moves. Ira didn't quite last, though.

MORE chess.

What would Nana do without her army of stepping stools?

Towards the very end of the evening, at about 10pm (an unheard of time to still be there if not sleeping over), we began to wrap it up. Russell was concerned that I might not remember a lot of the moves that we had just crammed into my brain. His concerns were well founded. To address this problem, Russell grabbed a pad and a pen. At first I didn't know what he was doing.

Without re-arranging any pieces or touching the chess board at all... without hardly even looking at it... he scribbled this on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and said, "Keep this. Memorize it. These are the moves I taught you tonight." To me, this was code. Gibberish. e4? e5? d4? xd4? Cornish Gambit? [That's sort of what it says at the top... the name of this chess opening]. Wha? I know enough to know that these number and letter combinations are a way of describing movies on a chess board with numbers and letters labeling the rows and columns. And I can figure it out if I really sit down with it. But.... what amazed me, shocked me... is that he wrote this freehand. It's a language to him. He learned it as he learned English. He's totally fluent at what to me, at first, looks like a computer code. Awesome.

With that, we left. When we got home, Peter went down to his old room in the basement to tinker with a computer that's been giving him problems for weeks. In the process of trying to solve the problem, he began buying components, to replace the ones that he though were damaged and causing Windows to not load. He replaced the Hard Drive to no avail. He replaced the main processing Chip, and then, when those didn't work, he replaced the entire motherboard. Nothing worked. He now owns most of the pieces you need to have a completely new computer, and still the problems. What could it be? Well, tonight, he comes running up the stairs to where Mommy and I are watching some late night television, with this cable in hand:

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TADA!!! It was a faulty EIDE cable, which connects the hard drive (with Windows on it) to the Motherboard. Ruling out everything else (by purchasing hundreds of dollars worth of new computer components) narrowed the possibilities to this... and when he tried tonight, for the first time, a new EIDE cable... everything worked with all the old computer parts in tact.

So, as you can imagine, he is experiencing a moment of intense joy, holding up his nemesis, about 5 minutes before the depression of having wasted all that money sets in. A New EIDE cable is only about $30.

To give him some credit... the symptoms were very strange for a bad EIDE cable. That's why he didn't start there, and work towards the more expensive parts.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What takes your money and runs leaves you smarter. What a day.