Category Archives: Albany

The past few weeks haven’t been conducive to taking my usual lunch-time stroll through Downtown Albany on my days at the office, but last Tuesday I returned to the practice – a reminder of how important it is to break up the work day with a proper mental reprieve. In this case, a walk on a lovely spring day when all the trees were fresh of growth, and a magnolia was just finishing up its early magnificence. 

The benches were blessedly empty. Even after a year of quietude and non-crowds, I still embrace this solitude. Beauty can be enjoyed on your own, something I fought against for so long I almost started to forget. A squirrel was my only companion on this walk, and he or she didn’t seem keen on striking up a conversation. 

Beneath a magnolia, I paused and did my best to inhabit the moment, to be present, to feel every pulsation the day was eliciting. Such presence is the goal of any good day. I will do better to remember that. 

Magnolias are a breed of tree that I’ve always admired from a distance, and in someone else’s yard, where they can deal with the messy aftermath of these glorious blooms. Such thick petals don’t scatter lightly on the wind – they tend to fall straight down, littering the lawn and making a muck of things when spring rains wait only to rot the fallen. But on days like this, when their blossoms are still carried high, brilliant against a blue sky, I entertain fantasies of planting one of these somewhere on our tiny lot. 

I’ll try to return to this space in a week to remind myself of why that’s a dirty idea. 

Pigeons are quite common in downtown Albany, where I spend one or two days a work week. They are there on rooftops, flocking in little parks, or soaring in formation over the buildings. Less commonly seen, and wholly unknown to me, is the pigeon predator that did this to an unsuspecting victim whose only remnants are these feathers. Dog or cat? Or maybe something more sinister and wild…

Winter is never less than ruthless. We are all hungry at this time of the year. 

Winter also offers its own mark of dark beauty, in the barren and the sparse, in the brutal and the fallen. Among the detritus of pine needles and little branches strewn along the sidewalk, these white feathers merely hint at their story, the secret threat of their own ending. The next snowfall will sweep them away, in the manner that winter usually hides its crimes. 

Like the rest of the world, downtown Albany has been stricken with a certain slow-down in the age of COVID, but there are glimmers of resurrection, and whispers of a resurgence. On a recent lunch break, I was traveling down Columbia Street when the beautiful storefront windows of River Garden Studio beckoned with endless bushels of greenery – a verdant paradise in the middle of concrete and cobblestones.

Fiddle-leaf figs, monstera philodendron, dieffenbachia, bird’s nest ferns, and all sorts of whimsical pottery to hold them were on display. Cacti and succulents peeked from their pots, offering options for those who can’t keep a fake Christmas tree alive. Large specimens of dracaena and Norfolk Island pines provided strong vertical focal points, while waterfalls of pothos spilled over wooden barrels and crates.

The handsome space (formerly a gallery) makes the most of its sky-high vista windows, and the plants happily soak up all the light. It will be a treat to explore as fall and winter approach – a lovely little oasis in the unlikeliest environs of downtown Albany.

There is something magical about the place, a hint of something more beautiful around every corner. This enchantment is the sort of thing that only a brick and mortar enterprise can provide, a throwback to a time when things were simpler and easier, a time when such delights could be seen and held and experienced in person. 

She is my favorite essential grocery worker right now and, because of her, Price Chopper is back in my good graces. (Like Starbucks, we’ve had a tumultuous relationship over the years, but we’re still together so that says something.) Grocery markets have had to remain open in these frightening and uncertain times, and Jasmine Shea is helping to hold everything together at the Price Chopper right by my home. She’s been my heroine ever since she recognized my Clockwork Orange costume one Halloween (everyone else that was at the store that night was in shock and awe over my codpiece because they just thought I wore that every day). She cemented that status a few weeks ago when she gave me a heads-up on the day they got toilet paper in her store (one of the many benefits of being her FaceBook friend).

For an even more in-depth and entertaining look at her store stories, check out her new podcast ‘Shea Says’ which is turning me into a podcast fan. (That’s something not even Skip or Suzie could get me into, and that tells you a lot because they can usually get me to do anything.) It makes sense: Jasmine’s a pro who’s been on the radio before, and she knows her way around telling a compelling story – sometimes heartbreakingly serious, often riotously hilarious, and occasionally moving and poignant – she hits those emotional peaks, and her podcasts give a glimpse behind the essential grocery worker mask (and a number of other life events).

With a delightfully saucy edge, she reminds me of what it’s like for the people working on the public service side of this frightening world. I physically go in to my office only once a week right now – she’s done six-day work-weeks on a regular basis in recent weeks. Whenever I find myself waiting in a line anywhere (hello Lowes) I think of Jasmine and calm the fuck down. She also volunteers to help others – I saw her heading out to help with a Feed Albany run on one of her rare days off. Aspirational. Inspirational. Take-no-prisoners truth-telling at its best.

Give a listen to ‘Shea Says’ here.

All Albany heroes wear a mask in these times. 

And if you see anyone in public who’s not wearing one, feel free to call them out as the selfish assholes they are. We can no longer rely on government or religious leaders to do what’s right – we can only count on ourselves.

It’s up to us.

It’s always, and only, been up to us. 

Same thing for November. 

Speak up, speak out, and go on the record for when your kids ask you what you did when this evil administration was in power. Did you give them the benefit of the doubt each and every time they lied, or did you say something and let everyone know it wasn’t ok? 

Even with a mask on, you can let your voice be heard. 

In this age of social media, we’re all on record now.

Returning to Albany from Washington, we were near the midnight hour when we reached this vantage point of our fair city. It’s a helpful shift in perspective to see such familiar places in such wildly-altered fashion, taking one out of the routine paths and patterns, forcing a new view that places one in a new mindset. It’s usually a reminder of how small we are – not only us but our villages and towns and cities. What vast expanses of darkness with such little pools and islands of light.

Time is like that too. An hour- a single hour – may feel like an eternity. All of the world, and quite a bit more, can fit into an hour, and at the same time all of one’s love could never occupy enough of a century to satisfy. I think of how time bends when we’re given an extra hour like we were early this morning. All of the things that might be accomplished in an hour. And all that might not. Which hour will we take? It seems like such a shame if we have to take it when it arrives – I’m not up at 2 AM as a general rule. I prefer to hold onto it for a bit, savor the moment when we might make the most of it. Or maybe time doesn’t work that way. It feels so malleable one second, so impossibly rigid the next. It’s a tricky construct, and the mind can become boggled and fraught with consternation if one dwells too long or dives too deep. It would perhaps be wiser to keep things light and sparkling, like the little illuminated bits that wink from high above downtown Albany. There’s magic everywhere.

MAYBE THIS TIME, I’LL BE LUCKY

MAYBE THIS TIME HE’LL STAY

MAYBE THIS TIME, FOR THE FIRST TIME

LOVE WON’T HURRY AWAY…

This Friday, October 25, 2019, marks the Boo-jolais Cabaret to benefit the Alliance for Positive Health. It’s the biggest dress-up event we have on our calendar, and looks to be especially thrilling as it returns to Troy, NY. With a ‘Cabaret’ theme and impressive roster of food vendors and silent auction items, along with live entertainment and the costumed finery of many attendees, this is shaping up to be an evening destined to be remembered. Tickets are available here.

ALL THE ODDS ARE IN MY FAVOR

SOMETHING’S BOUND TO BEGIN…

IT’S GOT TO HAPPEN, HAPPEN SOMETIME

MAYBE THIS TIME…

MAYBE THIS TIME I’LL WIN…

“Continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection.” ~ Mark Twain

Before getting in the car to go to work at this time of the year, I step into the backyard and check on how many morning glories have opened at the break of dawn. At this time of the year they are plentiful, and their colors are somehow richer and deeper, having earned such a flush with the cooler nights. If the temperatures remain cool, and if the day is slightly overcast, they will stay open a little longer- the pay-off for exiting summer even if we wouldn’t have minded extending its stay. I haven’t had to plant new morning glories in years – these continually reseed in abundance – and such persistence and resilience is admirable. There is a lesson in that – in the way that morning glories bloom most prolifically when challenged with poor soil and difficult growing conditions. The greatest show comes from the humblest beginning. In no way do I think that I’m putting on the greatest show, nor did I come from the humblest beginning, but somewhere in between the two I’m finding my way.

As I passed my anniversary with the state of New York last month, I found myself walking right by the very first building in which I worked. I remembered my first days there – how young I was, how nervous I felt, and how hopeful I tried to be. I also recall that, in some aspects, trying on the state worker mantle was a temporary lark in my mind. I had no idea it would turn into an 18-years-and-counting career, and it was better that way. Would I have started it at all if those golden handcuffs were clinking near my ear? I don’t know. But life has a way of unfolding exactly as it should, and my state career would take twists and turns that carved me into a better worker, and in many ways a better person. It would simultaneously challenge and disappoint, bore and surprise, nourish and enrich, inspire and delight – and ultimately lead me on a path that was filled with kindness, connections, loyalty and friendship.

State service and government work are not fields in which I thought I would ever play a part. Neither is Human Resources. The truth is that I’m not the greatest Human Resources person in the world. It is, in many ways, a difficult fit for someone whose natural tendency is to shy away from people and keep to himself. Yet in ways I have only begun to touch upon it has enabled me to expand my comfort zone, to push a little harder to be part of society, and to get closer to people on a broader and more specific scale. It has taught me to be kinder, more patient, and better – especially on those days when I fail a little. Looking back over the past eighteen years of working for New York State, I’m grateful for every twist and turn my path has taken, for all the people I’ve had the good fortune to meet and come to know, and for the chances I’ve been lucky enough to earn and get. Perhaps most importantly, I’m thankful to have reached a point of understanding that a fulfilling career is not about reaching a certain level of accomplishment or salary – it’s about each moment along the way.

I’ve had some wonderful moments… and I’m still looking forward to more.

See also the following:

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part One

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part Two

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part Three

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part Four

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part Five

Confessions of a New York State Worker – Part Six

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” – George Eliot