Day at the museum

The past three days in New York have been a festival of sight seeing. They began with a visit to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) on Wednesday. As I'd become used to strolling through the National Gallery in Canberra, rarely seeing another patron, I was stunned at the hoards that awaited us at the 53rd Street gallery. Nevertheless Sam, Ben and I (Chris was at a meeting with the Guinness World Records NYC office) battled the crowds to catch a glimpse of Van Gogh's Starry Night and Edvard Munch's The Scream. As I jostled my way through the camera-toting tourists with Sam and a pram I understood Munch's inspiration for his most renowned piece. Around each of these famous works, gallery-goers were lined five deep snapping pictures of the pictures.

On Thursday we decided to catch the Staten Island Ferry to show Sam the Statue of Liberty. A sail-by is all we could manage as Ellis Island is closed until July due to damage inflicted by Hurricane Sandy. We arrived at the ferry terminal and were greeted by further hordes of tourists. Herded on to the ferry, we travelled to Staten Island and back again. The mission was accomplished, but Sam was disappointed that Liberty was a girl.

Last night Chris and I thought we'd get a jump on the crowds by pre-purchasing our tickets online for the American Museum of Natural History. We arrived ten minutes before opening and stood in the 'Will Call' queue (the US version of the 'Pre-Purchased Tickets' queue) with a mass of other forward thinkers. Once we had the tickets we stood in another queue to enter the museum. We confronted and overcame a number of other queues during our morning at the AMNH, but it was worth it. I love a good diorama!

Finally, we ended Good Friday with a subway trip to Brooklyn. No crowds, no shoulder-to-shoulder jostling, just a bit of peace and quiet and a fantastic view of Manhattan from the Brooklyn Bridge Promenade.

Home & Hosed

I can never remember whether it’s good things or bad things that come in threes. Perhaps both. That has certainly been the case for us after three wonderful days in Manhattan and one rather unpleasant afternoon – for Jenny, at least.

As soon as we arrived we were thrilled by the size and location of our apartment. On the upper east side of Manhattan, one block from Central Park, on the corner of Madison and E 91^st and in an unbelievably quiet neighbourhood, the apartment is luxurious and lovely. Here’s the view from the kitchen.

On the first afternoon, after ditching the rental car, we wandered and did a little grocery shopping. Day two involved taking Sam to FAO Schwarz, one of the best known (and worst named) toy stores in the world.

We also wandered up through Central Park where Sam finally got to captain his own ship – a remote control one on the Conservatory Pond (he loved it so much we’re heading back there today).

Yesterday began with a cab ride to the High Line, a wonderful restoration of what was once a doomed overhead railway line. Residents came together to save it and turn it into a walkway three storeys above the streets of lower west Manhattan. When our friends Mandy and Julie came to NYC in summer the High Line gardens were blooming and colour was everywhere. For us, continuing the theme of this holiday, it was blustery, cold and snowing, which in itself made the walk quite a memorable experience.

The High Line was followed by a wander through Soho and some serious damage to the credit card in clothing stores. I’d like to say Jen was the only one to spend a lot of money on shoes, but I cannot…

Finally, the day ended with a cab ride back uptown. As soon as we entered the taxi we smelled evidence of something wicked in Benny’s nappy. It was, in fact, so wicked that it began to overflow down the legs of his pants. Jenny insisted on holding him, and it was my job to ensure none of Ben’s recent delivery ended up on her new, long puffy jacket – another recent Soho purchase.

Two blocks from home, at 89^th St, Sam upstaged his brother by announcing that he was going to vomit! We somehow managed to get his seatbelt undone, his window open and his head out the window in time for Sam to leave the contents of his stomach all over Madison Avenue. Mad Men, indeed…

Once we were home and the boys were all scrubbed up Jen held Ben in the air, admiring his naked cleanliness. He took advantage of his airborne nudity by showering Jenny’s new shirt and jeans with a nice, big, warm wee. It was the third type of body fluid in the last 20 minutes for Jen. She was home and hosed!

On the Road Again

Following two wonderful days on Campobello Island we are now back in Massachusetts, heading to New York.

Campobello was a most amazing destination. The island, which lies off the coast of New Brunswick, Canada, is reached via the two-lane Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge in Lubec, Maine. US Customs sits at one end of the bridge, Canadian Customs lies at the other. 

The view of Lubec, Maine, USA from Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada

I wasn't sure what to expect of the island - all I knew of it was from the remarks of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt (it was where the Roosevelts had their summer home), but what we discovered pleased us all immensely.

Tropical days on Campobello Island

Unlike the Roosevelts, who only ever saw the place in summer, we visited the island at its chilly best. It was windswept, isolated and very white. Sam has nicknamed Campobello 'the snowy island'. We had snowball fights and built snowmen - Sam and Ben loved the entire experience.

Sam giving Ben a lesson in cool

I also had the opportunity to visit Roosevelt Cottage out of season, thanks to the generosity of the people at the Roosevelt Campobello International Park where the property lies. The 34-room cottage is usually only open for 20 weeks in summer. It was a remarkable place and I'm very fortunate to have seen it. I can see exactly why FDR and ER loved it so much.

The Roosevelts' small summer home on Campobello Island

However, despite its beauty, Campobello is renowned for its unpredictable weather. On hearing from our hosts at the Whale Watch Motel that a storm was heading the island's way, we packed hastily and drove through the night seven hours to Rockport, Massachusetts, as Sam and Ben snored in the back seat. While Campobello is lovely, it's also extremely remote and we didn't fancy getting stuck there in a blizzard.

After a cool day in Rockport and nearby Gloucester, we are looking forward to arriving in Manhattan tomorrow.

Daddy & Sam in Rockport

A Bit of Proctor

Birthplace of author Nathaniel Hawthorne (The Scarlett Letter) and home to the witch trials of the late 1600s, Salem, Massachusetts is also the setting of my favourite drama of all time, The Crucible by Arthur Miller. The play captures the insanity and tragedy of the witch trials, focussing on the character of John Proctor. Proctor, a victim of circumstance, is brought to his eventual end by his adherence to a single principle – his refusal to sign his name and confess to witchcraft.
 

I was first introduced properly to The Crucible when I was teaching the play to year twelve at Girraween High School in 1996, the year Chris and I were married. The drama resonated with me strongly at the time, not because of the women being burned at the stake, but because of the character of Proctor.

When Chris and I decided to get married, I made the choice not to change my surname to Sheedy. This didn’t strike me as being an extremely controversial move, but I unexpectedly received a lot of heat from many quarters. Bemused and confused, I could not understand what the big deal was about. I was shocked and upset and deliberated my decision constantly before the big day arrived.

If not for Proctor and the lines, “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!” I may have been writing this blog as Jenny Sheedy. However, I thought, if Proctor could stand up to the likes of the judges Hathorne and Danforth and go to the gallows with his name intact, I could certainly cop the criticism and walk to the alter. And so I did. I have never regretted the decision. Of course, my stand did not lead to my death, in fact, quite the opposite - it led to a blissful seventeen years with Chris Sheedy.
 

When we decided to stay for a night in Salem en route to Campobello Island, I was pleased, immensely so. Although we arrived this afternoon in a blizzard and were only able to view the town through a snowy haze, I am thrilled to be walking in the footsteps of Miller’s tragic hero. I have taught The Crucible many times since and I still occasionally read my favourite scenes from the play, if I have a yearning for a bit of Proctor.

Total Recall

Memory can be a very powerful thing, especially memory of days that were more than a little challenging. My strongest recollections of travel, for instance, are from awful, long days on trains in India, terrifying trips atop buses through the high Nepal Himalaya, a flight with Sam to Rome that almost turned us off travel forever and one particular evening in Prague.

It was Jenny’s 30^th birthday and to celebrate the occasion I had taken her out to what seemed a lovely restaurant in the centre of the Czech capital. At the end of quite a revolting meal - welcome to Czech cuisine! - the staff (who were already angry at us for making them replace a foul bottle of corked wine) informed me that they did not accept card payment. I had no cash, so had to run outside to find an ATM. I couldn’t find one that worked. Then a policeman told me he knew where I could get some cash and recommended that I follow him, then ran off. Thirty minutes later, when he discovered I was still on his tail, he asked why I was chasing him. It was then that I realised he was a madman dressed in a policeman’s outfit, including a toy gun. And I was very lost.

When I made it back to the restaurant 90 minutes later, sweating profusely despite the sub-zero temperatures, I found a very lonely and vulnerable 30-year-old Jenny. It struck me that I’d never seen her looking more beautiful than she was in that terrible place, completely alone, unable to leave but unsure of whether I’d ever return. I’ve never felt so stupid or so awful before or since, but the entire experience made her 30^th one that we’d never forget.

Today memory played its part in almost having us killed several times. We hired a car, you see. As I drove it out of the car park at Union Station in Washington D.C. I said to myself, over and over, ‘Drive on the right. Drive on the right.’ Of course, as soon as the lights turned green I drove out onto the left-hand side of the road, directly into the path of three lanes of oncoming traffic. But like a fat, hairy James Bond I crunched the gearbox into reverse and burnt rubber backwards, until we were on the correct side, shaken not stirred.

Una-Bomber caught a little shut-eye between blasts

During today’s eight-hour drive I often found myself drifting across lanes, my mind telling me that I should physically be on the right-hand side of the lane (as I would be in a right-hand drive vehicle) until Jenny screamed, ‘We’re about to hit the wall / Hummer / bus / Starbucks cafe…’, then I’d swerve back to the correct side. It was bizarre and frightening, and I hope my memory will stop playing such tricks on me during the many miles we’ll be covering over the next seven days.

Chubby cheeks has a bubby sleep

Today we travelled through the states of D.C., Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and finally New York to arrive in the very lovely town of Hyde Park – yes, ‘Hyde Park on Hudson’. The first half of the seven-hour journey was on very busy, very ugly motorways. Then as we entered the Catskills the route became more picturesque and it was suddenly very obvious why New York City residents enjoy taking a break in their charming back yard.

We’re here in Hyde Park because it was the home town of the Roosevelts – Franklin and Eleanor. Tomorrow we’ll be visiting their houses and taking tours of their properties in order to further research my still-gorgeous wife’s second novel. In doing so we’ll be dipping into somebody else’s memories, and what a relief that’ll be!

The excitement of arriving at our destination was too much for some...

Museums, monuments, memorials and M Street

We have wandered the length and breadth of DC taking in the capital's many sights. The Lincoln Memorial was awesome and I enjoyed the Museum of American History that featured an exhibition of American Presidents and First Ladies. I also got a buzz seeing Julia Childs' kitchen. Sam loved the exhibition on transportation as plenty of ships featured. But by the time we got to the Museum of Air and Space, Sam was a little over museums, so we went outside and took some family pics.

Benny is nonplussed by the entire experience of travel. He most enjoys waving to Americans from the comfort of his pram, or falling asleep. I must add, however, that 'Winter Benny' is extremely cute.

Americans do the grandeur of memorials and monuments very well. In fact, they put Australia to shame on this front. While the Australian War Memorial is one of the best of its kind in the world, it never makes me well up. But my hand was on my heart at the Lincoln Memorial yesterday. You've got to hand it to them, Americans do the M's very well. 

Chris had a small rant regarding how much these memorials would have cost to build, and I guess he has a point. Even Sam asked me why Americans love their country so much. I told him Australians love Australia as well, it's just that we don't like to admit it, except on the sporting field.

But far more emotionally significant for me than all of the above was my visit to M Street in Georgetown. This is the site of a few great purchases that really made me cry, this time for joy - two pairs of jeans, a really fabulous between-seasons jacket and a pair of Camper boots that I've had my online eyes on for a while. Magnificent!

Politics of hot chocolate

Apologies in advance. We usually attempt to inject some pizazz into our prose, but right now we're just too exhausted...

Chris


We didn't have high hopes of a comfortable and relaxing flight to Washington, which was lucky. In the Air New Zealand Koru Lounge at Sydney Airport, which we were allowed access to thanks to our Virgin Australia membership, Sam and Ben enjoyed the many delights of a room designed especially for kids. This was a good start.

It all went downhill from there. Despite the fact that we were placed in a bassinet row, which is like a suite for parents, the spaciousness was only a luxury for around 15 minutes. Then the kids filled it...

After 14 hours of sleeplessness we arrived at LAX in Los Angeles. We had 90 minutes to make our connecting flight. After two hours we were still in Customs. Once we had escaped Customs and experienced another three-hour ordeal (discovering the incredibly deep lows of the American service ethic during an eventually successful attempt to have our tickets changed) we finally boarded a five-hour flight to Washington.

On arrival in DC we met our very lovely driver Franco and Sam was thrilled to discover a small American car in the Dulles International carpark ... see pic below.

And as always with long-haul travel, that's where the negatives ended and the positives began, upon arrival.

When Jen and I last stayed in DC, about 12 years ago, this was a very different city. It seemed more dangerous and less clean. It has been through a major cultural shift since Obama came into power, Franco told us. The streets are clean of both litter and crime. And the city really does have a liveliness and a glow that wasn't previously apparent.

We've been to the White House, of course. Our hotel is not far away...

Sam has become obsessed with squirrels, which I remember doing when I came to the USA as a youngster, with Dad (see Sam and one of his furry little friends, below)...

Ben has rugged up...

We have visited the stupendously ugly Watergate building - nothing good could ever happen between those walls...

And perhaps most importantly Jenny has sat at the feet of the great Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the star of her second amazing novel and the reason for this trip.

Sam the ladies' man preferred hanging out with Eleanor Roosevelt. Eleanor, who I always thought was a bit of a Queen Elizabeth look-a-like (and not in a good way) actually wasn't very interested in men - she, too, was a ladies' man - but we didn't tell that to Sam.

In the last two days we have had way too many Starbucks hot chocolates whilst listening to people talking politics - Sam enjoyed his first ever tall, skinny hot chocolate all to himself today! We need the sugar to keep our minds from becoming hazy, you see.

And I was asked for ID whilst buying wine, which was a bit of a thrill.

It's now 10pm, the wine has been consumed and both of our children are still awake. Such are the great joys of jet lag.