Tag Archives: graduate school

Alone in Central Park

Posted on by under Alone in Place, Guest

New York City has iconic buildings. Movies and television shows are set there. It’s a magnet for business and the arts and everything in between. Who wouldn’t want to live there?

I had been to the city a few times. I had ridden the subway, wandered through FAO Schwartz, and even watched from along the route of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. So, I was comfortable with New York or at least felt confident I would be sooner rather than later.

I waved good-bye to my brother as he drove back to Philadelphia. I was in my new home, in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Yes, it was actually a dormitory, and it was for graduate school, but I was living there. It was my new place.

The weather that first Sunday in September was storybook perfect. Blue skies, light breezes, and deep greens. I wanted to be in Central Park. I packed some reading material, found the subway stop and hopped the ‘B’ train. As the train rumbled along, my stomach churned with anticipation. Each subway stop was destination to be studied and stored in my memory. The reading material would have to wait.

Finally, Central Park.

NYC-Central-Park-from-abovIt oozed vitality. Baseball games, picnics, concerts, and walking tours. Each step further into the park revealed more. Where would the next winding path leave me off?

While more an observer than a participant in this exotic landscape, it was part of my home. And I was determined to know all I could about my new home.

A huge line of people was formed. Curious, I struck up a conversation with a girl with a pretty smile, “What are you waiting for?”

“For Shakespeare tickets.”

“Oh.”

“Shakespeare in the Park tickets.”

“All these people are here for that?”

“Tonight’s the last night, and it’s supposed to be great.”

“Which play?”

“The Tempest with Patrick Stewart. You haven’t heard about it?”

“I’m not from around here.”

We talked a while. She was cute and friendly. Her boyfriend seemed to like her too. “Hey, do you mind saving our spot for a little while? We’ve been here awhile and want to go for a walk.”

“I don’t mind.” And I didn’t. Waiting in line for Shakespeare tickets – did it get any more New York? With the couple gone, I took out my book and read the Fitzgerald novel I had in my bag while I noshed on my bagel. I couldn’t focus. The humanity overwhelmed me.

But I knew no one. And no one knew me.

When the couple came back twenty minutes later, I was happy to see them. Their arrival meant my departure. After a, “sure, no problem,” I walked away and left the park.

A few days later, school began. Despite my desire to go back to Central Park, I was too busy settling into my classes and all the responsibilities that entailed.

Then one night, news came of a woman attacked in Central Park. The woman had been jogging on East Drive near the Lasker Rink at 103d Street. Police had a number of details: dragged down a 20-foot embankment, killer apparently tried to rape her, violent struggle, and body found sprawled by stream under a stone bridge.

She had been dead three hours when another jogger found her. Despite all the details, police could not identify the victim, and they asked for help. Finally, her identity was discovered. She was from Brazil and was described as living a solitary life. The murder dominated headlines for weeks. The police were stumped.

Had I been there? Was this where I was walking just a few weeks back? Was I in a dangerous place? Should I have been more careful? Did the woman jog past me on an earlier run?

I was fascinated over her and the story. How could someone live in such a big city and have so few connections? How could someone be murdered in this city of constant activity, and no one see the gruesome act?

On a trip back home, my parents asked, “So, what do you think about living in New York?”

My answer wasn’t simple. The same thing that I love about New York was the thing I hated about it. I could go anywhere and know no one. The ability to be anonymous was freeing and exciting. Trappings of expectations were gone. However, despite being surrounded by hordes of people wherever I went, I was alone. All I saw was a faceless throng.

And I wondered, “Did anyone see me?”

ME (1)Larry Bernstein is a freelance writer, blogger, and educator. He and his family live in North Jersey. He writes about education and religion as well as business profiles. Really, he just likes to tell stories – both his and others. He blogs at http://larrydbernstein.com/me-myself-and-kids/ and is on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Writings.of.Larry.Bernstein.

 

Diapers & Degrees

Posted on by under Guest, Role & Place

It was around noon, and I was in the men’s room at Target with my five-month-old daughter. The wall-mounted Koala changing table had seen better days, but I was just glad there was one in the men’s room at all. It was clear, though, that installing the changing table was an afterthought because it completely blocked access to the hand dryers. As my daughter squirmed and screamed while I changed her diaper, other men had to decide whether to reach over my shoulder to dry their hands, or to just use their pants. I struggled to maintain composure, wishing I could say that was the only time I had cried in Target that week. As I finished up I asked myself through eyes filled with tears, “How had my life come to this?”

The past year has been one of shifting roles. I quit a tour-guiding career of eight years (which is long for a 30 year old), became a father, and finished grad school. With my new roles came a shift not only in what I do, but also in who I am.

The biggest transition has been from working 40-60 hours a week to being the primary caretaker of my daughter. I have never been good at errands—even simple errands done on my own would exhaust me. So, the prospect of running most or all of the errands for our family with a baby was daunting, if not petrifying. It did not go well at first, which made me question whether I could even be a stay-at-home dad. I wanted so badly to take care of our daughter so my wife wouldn’t have to run errands and care for the home as well as work. The chalkboard-painted wall I used for my to-do list was a constant source of anxiety motivating me more to escape and watch Netflix than to be productive.

Thankfully I started to get better. I hadn’t realized how much practice errands and housekeeping would take in order to do it well. Over the past four months, since defending my thesis, I have grown tremendously in my competency as a stay-at-home dad. I can even enjoy multitasking—managing a list of things to do all while keeping a 10 month old alive and happy. That’s not to say everything is perfect. My daughter’s newest favorite pastime—pulling her bib off while I’m feeding her—is a lot for me to handle, and I get jealous seeing my wife come home and have so much energy to play with her and make her laugh while I often can only muster the energy to prevent her from melting down. I’m sure this too shall pass and I am getting better at finding joy in the present with her and cherishing every little step in her development.

When I’m not chasing after my increasingly fast and destructive daughter, I am attempting to start a career. After years of work and late night study sessions I finally finished grad school in December, and I am applying for teaching jobs. There is a sense of being in the wilderness during this transition, not knowing the path or even the destination. Early on I was feeling lost and hopeless about job prospects. This brought about financial worries and brought up deep insecurities around my fear of being rejected or passed over by prospective employers. You might even call it a mini existential crisis. After some great encouragement from a friend and my wife, and a lot of prayer, these feelings have lessened. I have come to see being in the wilderness as an important experience that allows me to develop patience and reflect on other shortcomings and insecurities. I’ve even been able to see very clearly the providence of God through a few extra jobs and medical expense reimbursements and aide.

IMG_0109Practicing patience and silence is difficult in a time where all I want to do is stress and vacillate between escapism and attempting to solve everything on my own because God is taking too long. Thankfully I have an adorable little companion to practice with and learn from. This morning I spent time in the amazing San Francisco Botanical Gardens with her. As I pushed my daughter in her stroller, along the small dirt paths through the Native California garden, I talked to her about each of the different plants that we passed and we sat and admired them together. Sometimes she would reach out to grab the plants. Taking time to feel, smell, and taste them, to experience them for the first time. At one point she grabbed a California Poppy, my favorite flower which I learned to love during my years driving a bus. This particular poppy was the only one in bloom in the entire garden. I watched her discover for the first time something I have loved and cherished for years. It was so beautiful. I’m not sure what it means, if it means anything, but I will never forget the overwhelming feelings of love for my daughter and God’s love for me in that moment in the garden.

Being a stay-at-home-dad and struggling to find work was never in my five- or ten-year plan. I may have never asked for this experience, and I did not know what it would require of me, but I am grateful for it. There will certainly be other unexpected roles that will challenge me in the future, and I will greet them with fear and trembling knowing that whatever they are, they will bring me closer to God.

*   *   *   *   *

Gluch Bio Pic“Diapers and Degrees” was written by Danny Gluch. Danny grew up in the suburbs of LA with his parents and older brother. He moved to the Bay Area in 2002 and has enjoyed calling San Francisco home ever since. Currently, he, his wife, their daughter, and their dog Madison call the Mission District of SF home. After struggling to find an enjoyable area of graduate study, he found the Philosophy program at San Francisco State University, where he recently earned his MA writing his thesis in Feminist Ethics and Moral Psychology. Any extra time is spent with his church community, or playing golf (or practicing golf, or thinking about golf). Find Danny on Twitter @danandstephinsf.

Where I Am: Grumpy Cat

Posted on by under Welcome to You Are Here

Forgive me if I’m behind the times but I just heard the term “Grumpy Cat.”

It was comically used in reference to Jerome, the guy that is known for translating the Bible back in 420 AD. I guess iGrumpy Catn addition to being a big-deal Scripture scholar, he was also a “Grumpy Cat.” That’s comforting somehow–he is remembered as holy, and he didn’t exercise perfect joy at every moment. That’s “good news” because I’m a bit of a Grumpy Cat myself these days.

Far too often, I lapse into curmudgeonly monologues about my life, inadequacies, and surroundings. Take, for instance, the 12-minute drive that I make every day. A description of my day, accompanied by my inner grumble, goes a little something like this:

If I make it safely onto the street, having navigated the curved blind driveway of my basement apartment, I hit the gas for a few moments of  sheer speed. Using the force of the windshield wipers and momentum, I rid myself of the leaves that have stuck to my car, sending them aerodynamically flying over the windshield and onto the road which is perpetually under construction.  Stupid leaves!  Terrible road!

I’ve already gotten three parking tickets this semester so the question of parking is a serious one: “Will it be the unspoken agreement with the lot down the hill or should I push my luck with the nearby ancient meters?” I walk from my car past trim and polished people, feeling neither trim nor polished, and head into the building that houses my graduate program. Darn parking meters! Uggh, fashion trends!

On the return trip home, I often forget to swerve to miss the grand-daddy pothole that gets bigger by the week. When I forget—or when swerving would mean an unfortunate incident—my car drops into the pit, making a wretched noise and losing traction for a brief moment. Stupid pothole! Forgetful Mary!

I pull into the driveway, where the grass is always too long and dampens the hem of my plain black slacks, and lug everything to the doorstep. There I do the “door dance” with my housemate’s three dogs, letting myself in while preventing them from coming out. The dogs want to impress upon me that they are ready for loving and do so by a prolonged greeting of shrill barks that cannot be comforted. Awkward door! Hush dogs!

But, all of that is really just Grumpy Cat speak for, “I haven’t found a sense of place here yet.”

I’ve been here a little over a year and it’s true, this place hasn’t nestled itself into my heart yet. But, in committing to this blog, I’ve committed to looking for place, a place that I love—here, now, with these people who surround me. For starters, I need to get out and experience the unique treasures of this city this year. I mean, I’m in DC for goodness sake! Hold me to those adventures!

If only I could whisk away my inner grump the way I whisk away the fallen leaves from the hood of my car! But kicking out the inner grump requires attunement and awareness of beauty, which requires a contemplative heart. And so, below the inner grumble, I try to quiet my heart and attune myself to beauty. The color of turning leaves is gorgeous; I’m surrounded by lovely people. I am so blessed to have a cute, safe car to get me from place to place and enough money to stay within the socially-acceptable fashion range. And those high-pitched dogs are great for the occasional snuggle…in fact, their eagerness to love and be loved has been known to chase Grumpy Cat away!