French Girl

This lovely French girl stopped and let me take her photo. She was on her way with her family to a wedding or other catered affair. Her sweet smile overwhelmed me.

Yard Art on Thursdays

Our Yard Art photos for today are two photos of woodland fairies that sit in the yard of a neighbor.

What have you got for today?

Don't forget to sign Mr. Linky!

Ruby Tuesday Giveaway - Winners!

The winners of the Ruby Tuesday Giveaway are

Carletta

Sallie

The reason I named Sallie as a winner is she swears she didn't read Carletta's answer. Her husband told her and she posted while waiting for Carletta's comment to post. Good  enough story to award Sallie also, right, guys?

Now Carletta and Sallie send me your snail mail address in an e-mail (I think I have Carletta's address) and I'll send you the photo.

Thanks everyone for playing! That was fun!

Oh it was the Target ball/icon next to the parking area in College Point, Queens

Wordless Wednesday

Banned Book Week

Banned Books Week (September 25 - October 2, 2010) celebrates the freedom to choose what to read or the freedom to express one's opinion even if that opinion might be considered unorthodox.

Books can be banned or challenged.  

A challenge is an attempt to remove or restrict materials, based upon the objections of a person or group.  A banning is the removal of those materials.  Challenges do not simply involve a person expressing a point of view; rather, they are an attempt to remove material from the curriculum or library, thereby restricting the access of others.  Due to the commitment of librarians, teachers, parents, students and other concerned citizens, most challenges are unsuccessful and most materials are retained in the school curriculum or library collection.

List of Most Commonly Challenged Books in United States


READ A GOOD BANNED/CHALLENGED BOOK TODAY!


RUBY TUESDAY GIVEAWAY IS RIGHT BELOW...

Ruby Tuesday Giveaway!

 Guess what the photograph below depicts? 

The first person who guesses correctly (put your guess in a comment) I'll send, for this Ruby Tuesday, this fine art photograph (4x6) below in a plastic photo pocket with a white envelope from my Etsy collection.

Good luck!

Little Neck Bay (Autumn 2010)

Last sail

Summer Stock Sunday

I think this is the last Sunday for posts for Summer Stock Sunday until next Spring when Robin will host again. Thank you Robin. You know I love this meme. I don't think I missed one post this season. 

So here is my last photo:

 

We went out to Jones Beach on Long Island today. No lifeguards, no swimming allowed. Strong surf, probably because there are hurricanes out in the Atlantic. Eighty-four degrees. Surf so rough it knocked me down when the water was only up to my calfs. Bright day though. That's Vinny's silhouette. 

See the slideshow above for more pictures.

Portrait of Gina

Shadow Shot Sunday

Tracy hosts Shadow Shot Sunday at Hey Harriet.

The light coming through the driver's side window causes the steering wheel to cast shadows on the floor of my car and on my right foot.

Who is the Artist?

I came across this gorgeous bas relief artistic work in the office of my orthopedists.I wasn't able to learn the name of the artist. It is there written on the upper right side but it is unreadable. 

Maybe "Ronald" "Cathay" but I can't be sure and I've searched under that name.


The more you look at it the more extraordinary it becomes. The lithe body of the ballet dancer. The deep lines of the man's hands lifting her...

If you know anything about this work please let me know. I'd really appreciate it!

My Muslims, Part IV

My Muslims, Part IV

On the designated evening I went to the side door of the Barak houshold and rang the bell. They invited me into the living room, a temporary place to keep guests like me who arrived early I surmised.  I talked with the kids who kept me company in the living room. They all went to public school and seemed to like it. The children in the honors classes held diversity meetings so that they could learn about each other, their ethnic backgrounds and religions.  From what the children told me I came to realize the Quran and the Bible are very much alike in their stories and parables. At 9 o’clock, a big van pulled up to the house. The kids jumped up to the window and here came all the other women who were coming to the party. I was, it seemed, an hour early. Didn’t they say 8 o’clock?

We all trooped down to a beautiful finished basement with a wet bar and no alcohol of course.  I was given a chair ostensibly because of my big black boot. All the other ladies sat on lovely embroidered pillows on the floor with their legs crossed in front of them. They leaned against the basement wall. Each one of them, before they sat down extended their hand in greeting, as-salamu-alakum, A couple of them even kissed me. I thought, “Oh thank goodness that they have given me a chair. Even if I hadn’t had a big, black boot on, I would have never been able to sit by crossing my ankles slightly behind and lowering myself to the ground.” 

As I sat and looked around at the women and the young girls, I noticed a couple of women with babies in their laps; boys who were probably young enough to stay with the women, and the teenage girls gathered   closely, giggling and talking quietly.  Periodically they laughed out loud.  The women were dressed in beautifully decorated loose tunics and pants. A cacophony of color with gold and silver discs sewn into the fabric. Noisy jewelry around their necks and wrists.  As I sat there I compared what I was wearing (black pants, white shirt, brown jacket) to their clothes. “What a dull shlub I look!” I thought.

At 10:30 I excused myself and said I had to get home.  They were surprised that I was leaving so early and without having had anything to eat or drink. My husband,  Vinny, was home, I explained, and I was unused to being out at night without him. Malala’s mother said “I will send over some food in a little while. I don’t want you to miss it.” I demurred, but she insisted.

The food was delicious and my husband and I ate it right then: basmati rice, chicken kabobs with mild curry, some dumplings.  I  hoped I hadn’t insulted anyone for leaving so early. The following day I visited my muslims again and to thank them very much and return the platter.

Read Part I, Part II, Part III  

My Muslims Part III

My Muslims Part III

But he wasn’t angry at all, asked what happened and went directly over to Wayne to talk.  Ah, two men would now take care of everything.  And they did.  They agreed to call the damages even and not involve the insurance companies.  They each would take care of his own car.  Lal was self-effacing and Wayne spoke very quietly.  Wayne had been able to pull the fender away from the tire with his hands and therefore was able to drive to work. Wayne decided not to wait for the police since it was getting late, so he got in his car and drove away. He had with him all the information he needed as well as my phone number which I had volunteered early on.

I believe the Barak family was very relieved all had turned out well.  Of course not so well that they didn’t have to pay a considerable amount of money to repair their car.  Lal spoke well of the people in the community and praised us for our friendliness and caring. When Jamila climbed out of the car, on the passenger side, she came around the car to me and hugged me tightly. She spoke softly, saying “Thank you so much again. I pray for you.”

At that moment, the police arrived, 2 hours after we had called.  The driver of the police car asked us what happened and we explained the accident. He asked who the driver of the SUV was and Jamila said in a small voice that it was she.  We explained that all had been worked out: we didn’t need a police report, drivers had exchanged information and agreed to call it even, and the other driver had left.  “He left?!”  he said. He thought it over for a moment and then said reluctantly, “Well, okay, if that’s the way you want it, that’s the way it’ll be.”

He took no information from us, he didn’t even look at Jamila’s driver’s license. Jamila breathed a sigh of relief and, at our urging went inside to eat something. I was glad things turned out well. This morning a tow truck took Jamila’s car away. I know she'll be a loss without her car. Maybe this afternoon I'll go over and see if she needs anything from the store.
  I know, I know now I have to finish up how I got to know the family. On Valentine’s Day I found another card in my mailbox. It was purple with a great big heart with polka dots pasted in the middle of the card. Two small red hearts flanked the big heart. Someone had written “Happy Valentines Day” across the big heart.  No mis-spellings except for the missing apostrophe. They rang the bell a bit later with a big box of Whitman’s chocolates in hand. How did they know?
I really got to know them, though, when I was invited to Malala’s celebration of completing her reading of the Quran.  Her mother said to come around 8 o’clock in the evening.  It was at that time that I had a broken ankle and my leg was encased in a big black removable boot.  When I asked if my husband was invited Malala said “Oh no, it’s just for the ladies...”

More to come...

Read Part I and Part II

Yard Art on Thursdays

Here is an old sleepy Sun that sits on the wall of our pool club. I thought he's make a good new Yard Art badge after all this time. Storyteller you have been very generous with your badge that we've been using. Thank you so much.
Feel free to copy and use the badge for your Yart Art post if you like.

My Yard Art post for this Thursday is:

An intricately designed wrought iron blue/white bench in, of all places, a cemetery!

My Muslims Part II

My Muslims Part II

Let me tell you a bit about the other person in the accident. He was an American guy, maybe Irish, about 40. He pulled his car out of traffic and parked it at the 14th Avenue curb. His name was Wayne and he stood across the street and didn’t join us at Jamila’s car. Jamila’s 14-year old nephew and 16-year-old niece, Malala, stood with me at the side of the car. Malala called her uncle Lal, Jamila’s husband, and he said he’d be right home.

I thought Jamila should get out her driver’s license, registration and insurance card. She began looking in her bag and produced a card with her husband’s name on it. I said I need to see her driver’s license and the insurance card. After some hesitation, she took it from her wallet and there she was in her hijab in the ID picture. Her face was bright and clear but she wasn't smiling. It was her license and was due to expire in 2012. She had an Allstate card and her name was on it along with her husband’s.

I brought her ID over to Wayne and told him to copy her information including her address and driver’s ID number and the Allstate account number. I asked him for his documentation so I could give it to Jamila. I wondered why this man didn’t approach Jamila and conduct this exchange of information himself. Could it be he knew she would be shy and probably not talk to him in close proximity? Or was she so foreign in his eyes that he felt uncomfortable talking to her? Or did he think she wouldn’t understand him? I didn’t know. I stayed with him for a while and he was convinced that he was in the right and not at fault here. I was pretty sure he wasn’t at fault either. He had been driving on a main street (an avenue) and she was exiting a side street that had a STOP sign. He said I saw her there and never expected she’s pull out into traffic just then.

The damage to Jamila’s car involved her passenger door (she could no longer open it fully). The left fender was dented and leaned into the door. The damage to Wayne’s car was a broken right headlight and a bent fender that pinned his right tire. He told me he had to get to work by 8 o’clock that night out on Long Island and he wasn’t sure he could drive the car.

Frank had called the police at around 4:30. After about 45 minutes we tried calling the precinct to see if a police car had been sent out. But there was no getting through to them. They kept me on hold 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, and then the call went dead. I was keeping Jamila abreast of everything I was doing and I though I should ask her if it was all right with her that I was handling this for her. Her eyes filled up and she grabbed my hands and said “Oh thank you, bless you, yes, yes, please help me.”

I felt so much better because I hadn’t been asked to help by her or her nephew or niece. I had just jumped in. Jamila had let her sister-in-law take the kids out of the car and bring them in the house. Since she was on her way to services, Jamila had been fasting since the morning. I said to her, with some sign language, I thought Ramadan and Eid were over. She said yes they were but you can add extra days for extra blessings, and continue fasting. Apparently no one else in the house was doing this extra bit of fasting.

Jamila’s husband arrived after about an hour. The police still hadn’t arrived. Did Jamila look nervous now that her husband had arrived? I told her a few tears might help if she thought he’d be upset...

More to come...

Read Part I here

My Muslims - A true story Part I

My Muslims

The first sound I heard was a dull thud.  Then my neighbor, Frank, yelled out “Holy Shit!” I looked out the window in my office which looks out onto the street at the side of my house and heard Frank ask “Is anybody hurt?” 

I ran downstairs in my slippers and taking no time to slip on my outdoor shoes sitting in a row with my husband’s shoes at the door. Out in front Jamilia’s SUV was half way into 14^th Avenue, as if she were turning right into it, and a old white Nissan was up against the fender near the driver’s door.  I ran over to Jamilia and saw that her 4 kid’s were in the back seat directly behind her.  Her sister-in-law was at the back door, passenger side, taking the kids out one by one. None of them  had been hurt.

Jamilia eyes were red. She looked like she was about to cry but didn’t. I asked her what happened and in her best English she tried to tell me that she had looked and didn’t see the white car coming up on her. Then she continued out into the avenue and he hit her.  Frank had called 911 when the accident occurred. I wondered if she had ever had an accident before and if she knew what to do to prepare for the police to come. She was dressed in her hijab and was on the way to services at her mosque in Flushing.

I know Jamilia. She and her sister-in-law are married to two brothers. Between them they have seven children. They live in a two-family house across the street from me and I’ve gotten to know all of them. They are Afghani. I learned this from Lal, Jamilia’s brother-in-law a couple of years ago but they have been in this country 22-25 years.  All the children are American citizens for having been born in the U.S.  They range in age from 9 months to 17 years.  Their name is Barak and have lived across the street for 2 years. I don’t know where they lived before. But I know the brothers own a fried chicken place in Harlem.  Lal drives a limousine on the side.

I really got to know the family when the kids decided to leave a card in my mailbox last year. It said on the cover folded in the way you might expect a Quran to be folded:

“Happy Sprg (the “g was backwards) Day”   

Inside, this poem:

“Rodis are Red    

Villis are bluh   

Have a g(backwards “g” again)ood(backwards) d(backwards)ay.  

At the bottom of the card was their address: “13-52”  There were flowers and a happy face with spider legs decorating the card. I translated the card this way:

Happy Spring Day

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Have a good day

I was shocked that they did what they did for no particular reason that I could see, except maybe to extend a friendly greeting.

The next day I went to Staples and bought all kinds of stickers, pens, pencils, pads and a couple of journals. I bought a box to put everything in and some candy, M&Ms, that they might like. I made sure everything was colorful and bright.

They were all delighted when I delivered the package. The kids from up-stairs and down-stairs came to the door and accepted the box with giggles and thanks yous. I was all smiles.

There’s more to this story but I think you would like me to get back to original story about the accident.  I promise I’ll finish the Happy Spring Day story soon.

Now where was I? Oh yes...

Stay tuned for more...

Copyright Mary Tomaselli

Effects of Tornado Damage in Flushing, New York 2010

Click here

Ruby Tuesday

On our way to the park with Jarome on Saturday I passed hollyhocks, flowers that I haven't seen in a long time.

Hollyhock

Welcome to Ruby Tuesday. Join us today to post something red.

Sign Mr. Linky and then leave a comment. Don't forget to visit your fellow bloggers.

Guan-Yin Art Magnets

Guan-Yin is the Chinese Goddess of Mercy. Here we have a set of art magnets depicting the goddess and attached to the side of my file cabinet.  They would look wonderful on you refrigerator, doncha think? Decorate the refrigerator. They measure 3.5 x 14 inches. One of a kind.

Guan Yin is the bodhisattva associated with compassion as venerated by East Asian Buddhists, usually as a female. The name Guanyin is short for Guanshiyin (觀世音, pinyin: Guānshìyīn, Wade-Giles: kuan-shih yin) which means "Observing the Sounds (or Cries) of the World".

It is generally accepted (in the Chinese community) that Guanyin originated as the Sanskrit AvalokiteśvaraGoddess of Mercy, Guanyin is also revered by Chinese Daoists (Taoists) as an Immortal. However, in Daoist mythology, Guanyin has other origination stories which are not directly related to Avalokiteśvara. Commonly known in English as the Goddess of Mercy, Guanyin is also revered by Chinese Daoists (Taoists) as an Immortal. However, in Daoist mythology, Guanyin has other origination stories which are not directly related to Avalokiteśvara.

Go check out my Etsy shop

Shadow Shot Sunday

Tracy of Hey Harriet hosts Shadow Shot Sunday.

I took this shot last year but I post it now cuz our trees will soon be looking like this in October... with long, long shadows.

Limerick Prompt

Madeleine Begun Kane from Mad Kane's Humor Blog says I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:

A woman who readily cried

Here’s mine:

A woman who readily cried
didn't bother when her husband died
he was a brute first class
so when he fell on his ass
She laughed til she got a pain in her side.

Another original limerick for Mad Kane.

Yard Art on Thursdays

Here we are back to Yard Art on Thursdays.

My photos this week show a kind of Yard Art but in truth the work is real Art by sculptor Judy Brown. But it is outdoors and made with metal scrap the artist got from junk yards.





As you can see it used to in a yard at the side of the Montefiore Dental Clinic. Unfortunately it is gone now and has been replaced by sculpted frogs...

Wordless Wednesday

Paper cut

Lady Astor: “If you were my husband, I’d put arsenic in your coffee.”
Churchill: “Madam, if I were your husband, I’d drink it!”