Category Archives: Albany

Albany Pride is a tricky thing. There’s so much this area has to offer, and so much it doesn’t. I suppose the same could be said for any city anywhere, so I’ll err on the side of praise and promise. No sense in pissing off the city where you live. There are more than enough to critique and condemn. We’ll steer clear of that here, at least for today. I’m feeling charitable.

When the time moves forward and spring is in the air, the city turns onto the road to beautiful again. We will shake the dirt and salt of winter off our shoes (and cars) and start walking at lunch again. The crocus will come up in the warmer and more protected spots and soon enough the grass will be green again. It will be time to paint a scene like this. And so we hold on to our hometown…

Even in downtown Albany there are nooks and pockets of beauty and enchantment, such as this little park across the street from my office building. I pass it when taking a lunch and it usually provides a respite in the day, no matter how stressful it might be going. (That’s another life lesson that deserves further exploration in a future post: always take your lunch.)

As seen here, this park is providing its final flourish of beauty before succumbing to the cold. Winter will offer more subtle stretches of prettiness, but for the most part this will be the last show until the return of spring. There will be flowering trees then, and tulips and daffodils will dot the space. The sky will again be blue, and the sun will offer warmth in addition to light.

[Sigh]

It’s too early to be longing for spring.

It invariably happens, every six months or so, that the Starbucks on Pearl Street (Store #07922) in Albany (the only Starbucks in the downtown Albany area, where my office happens to be) ends up breaking my heart. After avoiding it and settling for Dunkin Donuts or Cider Belly for my mid-day coffee break after their last fiasco, I had given them another go, and there was a different cast of characters operating the caffeine machine so I had hope there would be improvements in the service. Alas, it was not to be.

I don’t take an early lunch, so by the time I get out for coffee it’s around 1:30 or 2 PM – not exactly rush hour. Yet for some reason, with all the socializing and singing and general lollygagging, the time it took to get coffee was stretching into ten to fifteen minutes. I started keeping track as a game to see how long it would take and live-tweeting the whole thing. Sometimes it was good – and I was happy to point out if a drink came in under five minutes (I didn’t have to do it that often). Mostly they were falling between nine and twelve minutes. Still strange, since I don’t usually have such issues at other Starbucks, but hey, this is Pearl Street.

That said, sometimes there’s no excuse for taking fifteen minutes to make a drink. Especially when I see you socializing and laughing and pausing work to finish a story on how short you are and always shave been all your life. I’ve worked in a number of places – retail stores, a restaurant, and all sorts of offices. In every situation I love to see people enjoying their work day. An office that gets along well and shares laughs and genial conversation during working hours is generally one that is putting out quality work. But there’s a balance, and when you start delivering one coffee drink every fifteen minutes, something is wrong.

On this day, I entered and found the usual line of three or four people, and a few more awaiting their drinks. Behind the counter, there were three baristas. One was mopping the floor and making a big production out of it. “Oh, this mop is so heavy! It’s, like, twenty pounds!” One was half-heartedly making drinks, but with the growing line and group of people waiting, she didn’t seem to be moving very quickly. Still, three people in front of me wasn’t bad. So I waited. And waited. And waited. A guy who was also waiting finally approached and asked about his egg sandwich, which they had apparently forgotten about. The woman in front of me also got the wrong order and they had to remake it. Throughout it all, the baristas continued to hold their side conversations instead of simply focusing on banging out some coffee. Fifteen minutes after I got there, my drink was ready.

My comment was, admittedly, a little snarky: “15 minutes later…” I said, with a little laugh.

The barista didn’t find it funny. “Well,” she huffed, “I just had to make a bunch of drinks before you.”

I wasn’t having it either. “I know. Last week it only took 13 minutes to get a coffee.”

She did not go silent. “That’s how it works,” she challenged. “Everyone wants Starbucks.”

Umm, not anymore. See you in another six months for the next Twitter showdown.

Post Script: That Starbucks location has since shut down. There are now zero Starbucks stores in downtown Albany.

The Boo-jolais Wine Celebration takes place in just two days (Friday, October 26, 2018) so if you haven’t ordered your tickets yet get right on it, and then get immediately to work on your costume. While this is typically a big fashion night for me, this year’s Monster costume theme takes some of that pressure off. (There are a lot of ‘monsters’ ripe for imitating in this world…)

They also just released a fabulous list of vendors who will be supplying the night with good things to eat, and some wonderful items on which to bid in the silent auction. As produced by the Alliance for Positive Health, this is always a night on which to see and be seen. Get ready for a monstrously good time…

A month from today – October 26, 2018 – the BOO-jolais Monster Ball will roar into the Albany Capital Center for the annual BOO-jolais Wine Celebration to benefit the Alliance for Positive Health. It’s one of my favorite parties of the year, as much for the cause as for the fabulous collection of attendees it draws, some of whom I’ve known for as long as I’ve known Andy. It’s also one of the best nights to dress up, and this year’s Monster theme gives a whole new slew of sartorial possibilities. A monster can be many things, which gives me some wonderful ideas. (I’m told there may be a prize for the best monster costume, so go all out.) Here’s the official invite:

Calling all werewolves, witches and other frightful creatures of the night to the BOO-jolais Monster Ball. BEWARE! A great time awaits you at the season’s premier Halloween event. Dress as your favorite monster and you just may win a prize. Feed the hungry beast within with a decadent selection of food samplings from local restaurants and caterers, and complimentary wine tastings. Bask in the fun of live entertainment from Grand Central Station, dancing, a silent auction and much more!

This is the week when it happens: the unseen blooming of the linden trees. They are everywhere in downtown Albany, but their blossoms are subtle and go largely unnoticed. It took me several years to figure out that the sweet perfume that carried over the streets at this time of the year actually belonged to these trees, so insignificant were their blooms (which are lime green and similar to a maple tree’s flowers, if you’ve ever noticed those). What does make an impact is their fragrance. It is so sweet as to be almost cloying, but I cannot get enough of it. I even have a bottle of linden shower gel that roughly mimics the scent.

It is one of the fragrances that signals summer to me – more than most colognes even – and it’s the last wave of spring scents to leave such an olfactory impression (after the lilacs and peonies). From this point the next major fragrance producer is the similarly unassuming privet, which brings to mind Provincetown and summer vacations.

For now, the linden trees sprinkle their intoxicating magic over my lunch-time walks and evening strolls, carrying pleasantly on the breeze, reminding all to slow down and breathe in the arrival of summer.

Working in downtown Albany has its perks. There’s always somewhere new to go for lunch. (Sadly, the turnover for food places is lamentably swift.) There’s somewhere pretty to walk. (Try the path leading from City Hall to the Legislative Building or the River Walk.) And if you look hard enough, you can come upon visages like this: a peek of sky, of cobblestone street, of rich brick building.

Beauty’s where you find it.

In my current hometown, there is beauty to be found if one knows where to look, and if one looks hard enough. It’s not always apparent or obvious, which makes it mean a little more. Privately, and perhaps publicly, I’m prone to dismiss this area when it comes to culture and artistic options and simple architectural glamour. And until those harsh 1970’™s lines of the Plaza come into miraculous vogue, I may have truth on my side. However, there are winks and nods to whimsy and beauty here, if only in the egg that watches over this bit of street art.

Our stalwart Jack’s Oyster House has a section of State Street named for it, and it is an institution unto itself. Dinners have been hit-or-miss there for a few years, but when they’re on they’re unbeatable. On the bottom corner of State is this dome-shaped beauty, proof that there are gorgeous buildings here, even if they’re not overly plentiful.

A little further up the street is Wellington’s, which I’ve tried for likely the last time. Their portions are simply too small for a $12 martini such as the one pictured. Perspective clue: those aren’t even queen olives taking up all that space, and the pour is meager at best. They saw me tweet as much, and came right over to me at the bar, but when I explained that the size was dismal compared to just about every other place in downtown Albany, the woman didn’t bother challenging it. What’s to challenge when there’s a photo like that?

So yes, Albany has its drawbacks and limitations, along with its naysayers and critics (guilty and guilty), but it has beauty and charm and champions as well. More than that, it’s become home – and I always take pride in my home. The skies here want to be blue and the sun wants to shine. We just have to help make it happen whenever we can.

My love/hate affair with Albany has been on the lovey-dovey side of late and that continues with this ode to the beauty of a Capital Region morning. As we enter the final stages of winter, the light begins to get brilliant. One of the only benefits of the dark season is that with the bare branches of stripped trees, nothing blocks the sun, when the clouds are away, from shining in all its splendor. Rooms and nooks that are otherwise shaded by leafy canopy are brighter than they are at the height of summer. It’s a small recompense.

Here, we witness the striking rise of the sun, and the amber glow of a city awaking to a bright and sunny day. Ordinary buildings turn extraordinary in the golden first light. It happens quickly, and soon the warmer palate is hardened into something bright and unforgiving. But for this first instant of the day, we have beauty. Delicate, fiery and fleeting beauty.

If we’re lucky, the day will end in the same way.

There was a time when Albany was magical to me. When I was a little kid in relatively-rural Amsterdam, NY, I viewed Albany as the closest thing to a big city. I’d been to New York and Boston a number of times, but they felt far away and distant. A few hours can be an eternity for children. Albany was a much shorter trip, but it still held the allure of glamour and sophistication. My Mom used to go shopping in the downtown, back when it bustled, and stores occupied multiple floors. The Plaza had been completed by the time I was old enough to walk, and we went to a few shows at the Egg. In certain sections, the walls were curved, and the novelty of the thing never wore off.

On certain days, when I’m walking at lunch and the sun is shining in a clear blue sky, I’ll look up at the Plaza and feel the same excitement and awe of our city. I’ll remember the wonder it once held for a kid from Amsterdam. I’ll try, mostly in vain, to re-inhabit that moment when it all seemed so impressive.

Next week a crazy super blood moon is set to rise, somewhere around January 31, and I’m not sure we can handle it. As little faith as I put in such astrological matters, there’s always been something believable about the moon and the way it fosters brief moments of lunacy. When it gets full, insane things seem to happen, especially if you’re unaware of its pull. During such times I find it best to lay low, stay subdued, and refrain from causing a commotion. Maybe it’s all bullshit, but it can’t hurt to take a couple of preemptive precautions, and in the middle of winter it’s good to be quiet and still regardless of the reason.

Instead of putting on a show, I’ll stand back and watch it rise. The moon is magnificent and magical, as you can see here as it hovers over Albany in these early-morning photos. It has been the guide and the ruin of certain men and women, the conjuror of all sorts of happy and sorrowful madness, and the watcher in the night. It peeks, preens and poses in all kinds of delightful variety. Shy and remote some nights, boldly burning red and pink on others. It dances or demurs, depending on the mood and the atmosphere. Most of all, it demands notice as it makes its way across the sky.

Nipper appeared to be the dog at the end of the rainbow, but as we approached it became clear the rainbow ended somewhere else. Did you ever try to find the pot of gold espoused by folklore? I always knew such talk was nonsense, but as a child when I saw a rainbow hovering near the end of my street I decided to give it a go. I bounded down the road and into the field that led to my school. Across the clover and the unmown grass, I sprinted and gave chase to the elusive pastel bands of color. As fast and as far as I ran, almost halfway to McNulty, the rainbow remained constantly ahead, always out of reach. It faded even as I tried to hold my focus on each color. I’d look away for a moment, then back, to try to catch it in its escape. It began to only appear when I shifted my gaze, and soon I couldn’t find it at all.