From the “rounding up 2012″ files.
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Photos: 35 mm film, August 2012, NYC.
juliacsmith
words and pictures
Tag Archives: NYC
Leaving Brooklyn
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Some little slices of my final week or two in New York.
Photos: Crown Heights, Prospect Heights, Coney Island, June/July 2012. (All photos by me except that last one of me turning over my apartment keys.)
After Sandy, my people are moving.
(All photos in this post are courtesy of Leah Michalos.)
I still can’t wrap my head around Sandy and her wake. I’ve been trying for two weeks, and social media—the Facebook and blog posts, emails, and tweets from my NYC-based friends—is the only thing that is helping me to visualize if not comprehend the damage. These updates and meditations are also serving as daily reminders of the power of community, grassroots organizing, and stories.
I’ve compiled some examples of the grassroots organizing my friends are doing, plus ways you can get involved, below. If you want to skip my singing-of-praises and just make a difference right now, visit this Amazon gift registry and send some cleaning supplies, batteries, or clothes to people in need.
In between volunteer shifts, Deanna (on Twitter at @deanna) has, among many other things, used her Forbes.com pulpet to write thoughtful pieces like When Good Intentions Aren’t Enough: How to Improve Sandy Relief and What Sandy Has Taught Us About Technology, Relief and Resilience.
My girl Anne (on Twitter at @annetastic), who works at Blue Marble in Prospect Heights, told her nice neighbor-customers that she was donating a days’ worth of tips last week; by 10 a.m. she had already raised a hundred bucks. (Anne, if you see this, leave a comment and tell us what the grand total was!)
Monica (on Twitter at @MonicaOMdeC) and her neighbors on the Upper West Side have collected tons of supplies, made hundreds if not thousands of sandwiches, and are finding ways to get ‘em all to people who need them (mostly, I believe, through Occupy). If you know people on the UWS who might like to help, encourage them to check out UWSloves on Facebook.
And then there’s the intrepid Park Slope-based Leah (on Twitter at @mechalos). For two weeks now Leah has been driving to the Rockaways, to Staten Island, to wherever she can get her trusty old SUV, Pebbles, on whatever gas she can find. This weekend Leah drove some other friends, including Annie, to the Rockaways. I added some of Leah’s photos to this excerpt from Annie’s blog post, A note from Sandy-land:
One story I’d like to share with you/the world is a young man’s named M. who owns, not rents, a first-floor apartment in a condominium complex facing the shore. He has a three-month old baby. He works in IT and immigrated to the United States. His wife, the baby and him are currently staying at her parents’ studio apartment several miles away in a northern part of Brooklyn. His home, when we first saw it, was literally filled with sand, dirt, sewage and buried inside that, what remained of his belongings.
He has insurance but not enough coverage to recoup his losses. I think this is the lot most Rockaway residents will find themselves in — not a lot of insurance policies offer Florida-level coverage to New Yorkers, nor could the residents afford it. Most of his furniture is gone because it washed away with his other belongings into the ocean, including the crib his child slept in.
When we arrived at his house, no one had been by to help him yet, though there were Red Cross and military officers just yards away. He was unshowered and clearly exhausted. Sandy hit ten days ago. Several other volunteers from New York showed up shortly after we did, and we all managed to shovel the bulk of sand from his living room, kitchen, bedroom and bath, but his basement is another story. The mud, sand and other “materials” rose above our ankles. My friend J. found a framed photo covered in black — I’ll just say it — shit and wiped it off. It was his and his wife’s wedding photo. When we brought it to M. he looked stunned, then began to cry.
Leah, Annie, Monica, Anne, and Deanna are just a few of the people who embody “community” and keep me hopeful when it is otherwise so easy to feel hopeless. Some of my hopes:
- That if you have a few dollars you’d like to put to good use, you’ll go to the Occupy Sandy “gift registry” on Amazon and buy something. The registry is updated daily. Or chip in to the Humans of New York crowdfunding campaign, which has raised $85,000 in under 24 hours.
- That if you have more than a few dollars, you’ll go to the Occupy Sandy “gift registry” and buy a whole lot of one type of item. (My understanding is that speeds things up for volunteers on the receiving end, who then spend less time sorting and can hustle the items to folks faster.)
- That if you are in greater NYC and happen to have large muscles and the ability to lift heavy objects, you will go volunteer to help carry debris out of wrecked homes. Annie explains in her blog post: “The army and their trucks line the shore but cannot go inside private property unless someone is in immediate danger… The able-bodied men in uniform, whom we all assume want to help, cannot do the bulk of the hard, taxing work like removing moldy furniture, shoveling sand, and removing debris from homes.” Know someone burly? Share this with them.
- That if you’re in greater NYC but maybe are not so burly, are unable to leave your own ‘hood, and/or aren’t already connected to a group you’d like to volunteer with, you find another way to participate, whether by cooking with UWSloves or diving in via the Occupy Sandy Facebook page.
- That if you, like everyone I’ve named here, have made the time to go pitch in on the front lines, you will read this piece about “sustaining your health and well-being while organizing” by Dayanara Marte and Sally Hyppolite, and be gentle with yourself.
I’ve got a second installment coming soon. That’s how full of love and solidarity New York is.
28 for 29, #22: Jamia W.
Next in a series about the changes people often face in their late twenties.
I met Jamia years ago when I interned at a major reproductive justice organization. We didn’t work together directly, but I remember getting the impression that everyone respected her work and thought she was a totally smart, vibrant, and cool colleague. Since then, we’ve connected a few times in person (thanks to the lovely Emily and some events around New York), and I always enjoy the resources and reflections she posts online. You can find her on Twitter or learn more at her website.
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Jamia: Absolutely! I grew up in a household where astrology was embraced and celebrated. My father did my chart for me when I was born and it has been really fun and kind of eerie to see how accurate it turned out to be.
Learning about astrology as a kid didn’t prepare me for my Saturn Return. Even though I’d heard about it, I had no idea that it was really about a cosmic energetic shift that was going to rock me off my foundation to help me return to my truth. The last few years have included some of my highest highs and lowest lows – and most of my biggest lessons. I’m beyond excited that Saturn ends three years of visiting Libras a week before my birthday in October.
Once my friend Allison explained the concept of Saturn Return to me as the time when the universe sets things right by teaching you, forcing you, and guiding you towards being exactly who you are meant to be. I remember being about 27 years old and hearing her explain how during the time between her late twenties and early thirties her relationships and professional path turned upside down to make things come out right in the end.
When we spoke about this, I had no idea what was coming. A few months later, I began to feel some pretty seismic shifts happen in my life and I thought: Wow, this is the Saturn Return, it is here and I have to just ride this wave until it crashes.
JS: Where were you when you turned 28?
JW: When I was 28, I was working at New York University as an Assistant Director of a residence hall at NYU. I was finishing up my Master’s degree and living and working on campus while enjoying the sweet fruits of my job perks—the comfort and convenience of campus life, a “free” East Village apartment, a decent salary, health care and retirement benefits, and 10 free meals a week.
While I loved working with students and enjoyed serving and supporting the residents in my community, my inner activist and writer yearned to be released and unleashed. For quite some time before I took the leap into my feminist media activist work, I wanted to return to my passion for feminist organizing. I knew I had skills, values, and ideas that I needed to explore, embrace, and voice in a new space and it took a while for me to conjure up the courage to leave the safety and security of campus life to take on the uncertainty of a new adventure with less tangible security attached to it.
JS: What are some things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
JW: I remember feeling this sense of dread about being closer to being “thirty.” I felt like there was some sort of cultural narrative about expected achievements that one must cross off their list by 30 and I spent my 28th year whirling around with worry that my time was running out. I have since rejected the mindset that trapped me into having these damaging and unrealistic expectations for myself, but I remember being 28 and thinking, wow, I only have a few years to “figure everything out” or “get my #$$% together.” I now realize the absolute impossibility and ridiculousness of buying into that frame of thinking.
On my 29th birthday, my partner Travis threw a surprise party for me at Twenty Six Seats, a lovely French bistro where we had one of our first dates. I am the hardest person in the world to surprise because I’m always curious, and constantly connected to social media, my phone, and just asking questions in general.
On the night of my birthday, we walked to the restaurant after I almost sabotoged his surprise by strongly arguing that we should stay home and watch some Netflix because turning 29 made me feel “old.” After my boyfriend insisted that we go out to dinner to celebrate, we arrived at the restaurant where I found a table full of our friends and family greeting us with gifts and loving smiles.
I’ll never forget that moment because it was my first recognition that New York was officially my home even though I had been living in Manhattan for over two years. I realized that I’d made a real life here, built a strong sense of community, survived switching jobs twice, transcended two painful breakups, met my soul mate, and found a wonderful, quirky, smart, and hilarious tribe of friends in a city that had once seemed so frightening and lonely.
JS: What was happening in the world that year? Do you remember newsworthy events, books you read, movies or shows or art you experienced?
JW: When I was 28, Barack Obama ran for president and changed my vision and faith in what is possible for people of color and all Americans. As an African American who grew up as an expatriate in an Islamic country, I felt very drawn to Barack Obama’s global and multicultural story and his representation of an experience of being that I’ve known about and lived through, but rarely seen acknowledged or honored in the media and the public discourse.
I remember dancing in the street, hugging strangers in Union Square, and feeling a new sort of patriotic pride that had evaded me beforehand. For the first time, I felt that “the dream” could possibly include me.
JS: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
JW: Even though I am almost 32 and feel like I’ve been through so much since my 28th birthday, I feel close to those memories as we get closer to Election Day. The last three years have been like A Tale of Two Cities for me – the best of times, and the worst of times. I’ve experienced some of my darkest experiences while also learning so much about my resilience, strength, and endurance of spirit. When I think of the election and all of the odds that President Obama faced in his lifetime and what his ascension to power represents, I recognize that the possibilities for my life are limitless.
JS: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
JW: This will sound wacky, so brace yourself. My Saturn Return has taught me that while there are forces in the world we live in that attempt to block or discourage us from realizing our truest calling, our light, and our truth – there is nothing more damaging we can do to ourselves than stifling who we truly are.
I’ve learned that following Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler as my guide to Saturn Return survival has been key to riding this wave and coming out of the storm (semi)-intact:
Know when to hold em’
Know when to fold em’
Know when to walk away
Know when to run
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Thank you so much, Jamia! May your birthday this year be just as sweet as your 29th.
Photo courtesy of Jamia Wilson.
More posts from Saturn believers: Ellen, Niec, Deanna Zandt, Cathy Wasserman.
28 before 29, #13: Amy Sample Ward
An ongoing series in which I ask people what their lives were like at my age – even if they’re not very far from my age.
I first met Amy Sample Ward in person about a year ago when we spoke on a panel about social media at the Foundation Center in New York. I’d been exposed to her work earlier, though; she has a popular blog about how nonprofit organizations can use technology to do better work, I’d seen her speak, and we’d been in touch online a bit. Amy is one of the many, many people I wish I’d spent more time with while living in NYC.
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Amy: Yes – I didn’t know what it meant until I was 28, almost 29, and people would mention it when we were talking about life, work, etc. So I looked it up then, and, as with anything that you’ve recently looked up, I feel like I see/hear it all of the time. I’m 29, so am technically still in my Saturn returns phase!
J: Where were you when you turned 28?
A: I was in Portland, Oregon – my birthday is right after Christmas so there’s always a bit of built-in vacation time from work. We had moved back to the US from London just a few months prior, but had moved to NYC instead of back to Portland. As such, we were home for the holidays and still feeling a bit of the psychological jetlag that comes from uprooting life and resettling in a new place, a new/old country, etc. In retrospect, it is a bit fitting I still felt that way as it was the start of many new chapters in life, to be written concurrently: new city, soon to be new job, and all that Saturn returns stuff, too.
J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
A: Well, it wasn’t very long ago so I certainly hope I remember several things! As I said, we had moved to NYC two and a half months prior to my birthday. My favorite season has always been autumn and I’m pretty good with the kind of change that you can see coming: changing jobs or moving or a new hair cut. I remember feeling like change was coming but maybe not the kind you can plan for in the same way. So my plan was to assume I couldn’t plan and would just be ready for whatever! I’m very glad that was my plan, because there was a new job (I’m now the Membership Director at NTEN) and six months later a contract to write a book (this time for Wiley/Jossey-Bass, co-authored with a friend and colleague, Allyson Kapin). I’m 29 now, so am still in the year or two surrounding that birthday, but am starting to feel like there’s less change. No, scratch that. I’m feeling like there is more consistency and stability in the plan of being ready blindly for change.
J: What was happening in the world that year? Do you remember newsworthy events, books you read, movies or shows or art you experiences?
A: Living in London from 2008 (right after Palin was announced as McCain’s running mate) until the autumn of 2010 meant that the way we consumed news about or from America was different, and so too was the way it was put in context against news about or from the rest of the world. Moving back to the US, and to a place like NYC, we felt like we were (and often still are) in a whirlwind of possible facts, allegations, hype, and a 24 hour clock of often context-less information. Living in Manhattan with millions of people listening and reading all of it, made it all the more dizzying. As such, I remember the first few months of our time in NYC especially as a time where anything that happened in the news seemed either underemphasized or overinflated: talks about the economic situation, the impact of Obamacare, etc. This was also the time that I started reading about and not understanding why more people were not concerned by the numbers of suicides of military service people, both actively abroad and on US soil. So many telling signs of people in need, at all elevations of our society, and so much helplessness as a result. Especially as someone, at that time and now, working in the nonprofit sector, that was really the feeling that seemed to permeate conversations: “I know, I know; but what can we really do about it?”
J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
A: Very close, naturally (back to the “I’m 29 now” part). I think the memories, at least the feelings and some of the moving pieces from this time, will stay pretty vivid in the long-term. This time of emotional and psychological transition marked by “Saturn returning” took place when we physically moved from one country to another, lived in a new city, had new jobs, and so on. Anytime we think back to “the time we moved to New York” or “when I started at NTEN” or whatever, it will be synonymous with this age, these things happening politically, and all these feelings of change. Being in the memories now, it feels mostly like an ellipsis. But that may also be the way life feels, always.
J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
A: One thing I have had to work on and get better at in my personal life is the idea that it’s okay to give advice. I am very comfortable professionally sharing an opinion or recommendation. But that is based, at least usually, on experience and investigation of a piece of technology or ways to use a specific application. Things that seem a bit more removed from me. Personally, I’ve always felt like I was a “who am I blow to against the wind” kind of person. And for much of my life, I defined that as letting things go the way they will. But, in this time of transition, I’ve really found that sharing advice to someone moving in the same direction doesn’t require blowing against the wind, but simply calling the wind out for what it is. And sometimes, that’s enough.
So, in that way, my advice is:
- plan to be moved. Maybe physically, maybe emotionally, maybe in every way. Don’t try to identify the landing point ahead of time, but plan to learn to dance.
- take no prisoners. Not in the true war sense, of course. I’ve found that the more you can be explicit, honest, and direct about, the better. When people create or try to avoid drama, whether personally or professionally, it most often makes him or her the prisoner instead of someone else.
- concentrate on what you have. I feel like most of our lives up until this point as Americans are spent focusing on what we don’t yet have: we need to get the education, the grades, the job, the connections, the clothes, the friends, the whatever. Let this be a time when you can focus on all that you do have; and enjoy it, be good at it, and do more of it.
- be here now. Really. Wear sunscreen because you want to go to the beach ALL day and not because you are scared of cancer (though it is real, and it is scary). Set a reoccurring alarm clock so that you can stay out way too late knowing underneath you are a responsible, good employee that will show up on time. Make a big dinner from scratch so that you have left overs to eat for lunch because it is cheaper and better for you, but let’s you learn to cook for a date. Do things so that you can enjoy every second, while still being very good to yourself and not just playing safe.
- take responsibility for your change. This is the most uncomfortable for me to say, but maybe the most important. I’m still struggling with this one myself, too. But it is the most rewarding. Asking for help, guidance, and reassurance, and being purposeful about where to go next (both this afternoon and in a course for life) seems awkward, strange, and maybe outdated. But it also feels really good.
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Thank you, Amy! For more of Amy’s take on things, you can follow her on Twitter at @amyrsward.
Photo: Amy provided the one of herself in NYC soon after her move last year.
The whole series so far: Intro; Hannah, #1; Kara, #2; Saya, #3; Cathy (aka Mom), #4; Rachel, #5; Jen, #6; Cathy W., #7; Celeste, #8; Deanna, #9; Kyra, #10; Aditi, #11; Russ, #12.
28 before 29, #12: Russ
Dear followers of the Saturn Returns interview series,
I bet you started to think I only know women, huh? After that 11-interview streak, I began to wonder myself. Lest you think this interview is only exciting ’cause Russ doesn’t have ovaries, you should know that he was also the first person who took me up on the offer to conduct the interview via video chat instead of in writing. This had the potential to be awkward because we hadn’t really talked in years and I had no idea what ground we might cover. I also showed up late. Then, to top it all off, he began the conversation with “I hate reflection. I’d rather just DO.”
Yikes. Here’s this person I respect a lot but don’t know well, who has patiently waited for me to call, and he’s not really feeling the premise of the whole series? But then he immediately launched into the following. I transcribed furiously. We barely edited what follows.
I don’t know Russ very well, but I’m pretty sure that’s him in a nutshell.
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I was 28 in 1996. I don’t know what happened that year, so I looked up the books and music and all that crap. It was the Jerry Maguire year. And I had finished grad school in ’95, so that was a huge period in terms of changes for me.
I had my first job where there wasn’t an absolute next step before me, aka college or graduate school. I was throwing myself completely into the start up of Idealist.org working with Ami [Dar, the founder and executive director]. We just didn’t and couldn’t know if it was going to go anywhere, but we seemed to feed off of each other’s capacity to work ridiculously long hours to create this thing that we still weren’t quite sure what it was to become. I had this great feeling each day that I had worked hard and that we shared a common goal. That was very powerful for me.
And I also was just starting to look at the whole dating thing. I remember, so, I am…I’m a very strange mix of things. And one of them is “a very judgmental prude.” I would not ever do the one night stand thing. I never drank. I mean, I would go to bars and be one of those people who was sober and would not sleep with someone. Which puts you in a very tiny subsection of the crowd. I had this notion early on about how people get screwed up by sleeping around. I had these odd, strange notions about romance, how you meet the right person. Around this age is when I started to think, “Huh, is this realistic?” Living in New York, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to have a relationship with someone that’s meaningful. So I think I was really beginning to process the challenge of that.
I was also in a weird living situation, in an apartment on Columbus in the 80s, with this old woman in a rent controlled four bedroom apartment. She would rent out rooms to people and make a bunch of money that way. When I moved in I wasn’t supposed to talk to anybody, I couldn’t let them know where I was going – I had to pretend I was visiting someone in the building. Like, the day I moved in I had to bring my stuff in through the garage and then ride the elevator up with her so people wouldn’t know. I remember she was trying to pressure me to do drugs. Constantly! She’d say, “You need to loosen up.”
Do you ever listen to the Paul Simon song “Train in the Distance?” I love this song. When I’m feeling my most perplexed, it’s what I listen to, because to me, it essentially sums up the human condition, and the reasons why I find reflection challenging or infuriating. The general metaphor is that people love the sound of a train in the distance, because it feels like it’s filled with possibilities. This is the line that I love, that I share with people, and then they look at me like “…”:
What is the point of this story
What information pertains
The thought that life could be better
Is woven indelibly
Into our hearts
And our brains
That, for me, in my personal arc of life, is it: there was always this notion that things have to get better than they are now. Maybe when I was at that age I was starting to wonder: I’d finished grad school, I was doing the startup thing, and maybe I was beginning to wonder, “is this as good as it’s gonna get?” And what I love about these lyrics is this concept that what motivates us in essence is that life could be better, and what fucks us up is the notion that life could be better. We’re seeking something more. What I don’t know yet is whether I will be happier when I don’t press to know that answer OR if that wanting of better is what lets us know that we still care.
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Who here thinks Russ and I should get together and “just do” some more of his hated activity again soon? ::raises hand::
Any other reflection-haters out there reading this and want to get in on the project before 8/29? Email or leave a comment and let me know if you’re willing to indulge me like Russ did.
Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1; Kara, #2; Saya, #3; Cathy (aka Mom), #4; Rachel, #5; Jen, #6; Cathy W., #7; Celeste, #8; Deanna, #9; Kyra, #10; Aditi, #11.
28 before 29, #9: Deanna Zandt
Welcome! This is the ninth in an ongoing series leading up to my 29th birthday in which I ask people what their lives were like at my age. (More details here.)
I’ve been trying to remember when I first became aware of Deanna Zandt’s work. It was years ago, way before she launched the #One4One game on Twitter…definitely before her book, Share This! How You Will Change the World with Social Networking was released, because I remember following her (pre-Kickstarter) crowdfunding experiment and being stoked to buy my copy…and I’m sure it preceded the time I saw her speak at a Women, Action, and the Media (WAM!) event in New York. At any rate, I always learn a lot from Deanna’s speaking, writing, and online sharing – and I’m thrilled that she decided to share some of her stories here.
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Deanna: Yeah, I’m a big astrology nerd, so I’m into it! It’s supposed to be about your big struggle with authority, masculine energy, whatever is concrete and external in the world. Everything that Saturn represents as a planet. Some people call this the “father principle” and interpret it literally, that you’re going to struggle with your dad. That didn’t happen for me, but I did struggle with what I understood his gifts to me to be.
J: Where were you when you turned 28?
D: In New York, living on the Lower East Side. Two days before my 28th birthday was the Blackout of 2003, so it threw my (always large, epic) party plans into a tizzy. A lot of people couldn’t get into the city for the party, but many people who’d planned vacations out of town couldn’t leave, so it all worked out guest-wise. I couldn’t get my hair done like I normally always do because my stylist’s electricity still wasn’t quite right. I was pretty bummed about that – I’m super vain, haha.
The night of the blackout was probably more memorable than my actual birthday that year, so let me share that story. I was working downtown in a high rise in Tribeca when the power went out. My coworkers and I all kind of looked around at each other; it was late in the work day, so I was like, “Woohoo! Let’s go home!” Then we looked out the window and saw smoke coming out of another high rise nearby, and an announcement came on the PA for us to stay at our desks. I had lived in New York through 9/11, and I said out loud, “That’s what they told the people at the World Trade Center. Let’s go, folks.” We all packed up quickly and headed down the stairs. It was a kind of terrifying few minutes. (FYI, the smoke we saw was from that building’s diesel generators kicking in, and was totally normal.)
When we got to the street, hundreds of other people were already there. We didn’t have mobile internet then, so we were relying on word of mouth to figure out what was going on. I was talking to my mom in upstate NY when her company lost power, and we got disconnected. We all started to put it together that something very big was happening.
We meandered about for a bit, and a lot of people started hitting the nearby bars. I was deciding what to do—literally, by choosing what was going to be the most fun, not the safest or anything—and folks in the bars were getting hot without A/C, so everyone started carrying furniture onto the streets. I decided to walk home and meet up with my friends, which was the weirdest walk home ever. It felt like a movie. Traffic was just stupid without the lights, and I remember people walking getting fed up with how kind of helpless, and thus aggro, the drivers were getting. People walking by gnarled intersections would just throw down their stuff on the corner and start directing traffic. In typical NYC fashion, it wasn’t so much to be helpful as it was to prove a point about how things should work.
That night we gathered on my best friend’s roof, and it got really eerie really fast as it got dark. I mean, DARK. You literally could not see across the street. We had heard about bonfire parties happening in Tompkins Square, but my faith in humanity was not so great that I thought that was a safe option for even a big group of mostly women. We had an awesome time on the roof. The stars were insane that night! Plus, you could see silhouettes of skyline in the distance, because NJ got power back before we did. Totally post-apocolyptic. We all stayed over together at my friend’s apartment, assured by city officials that power would be restored by morning.
It was not. I walked around town early that morning, and again, it was like a movie. The streets were empty. We’d heard parts of midtown and uptown had gotten power back, so a couple friends of mine and I jumped on buses and went to find places to charge our cellphones. We were totally reliant on the radio for news. It was so freakin’ weird. Friends who lived in buildings whose water supply was dependent on electricity came over to my little apartment to shower all afternoon. It was the shower parade. We were the last neighborhood (note: demographically the poorest neighborhood) in Manhattan to get power back, at around 9pm that night.
J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
D: In the wider world, the war on Iraq had launched in March 2003. The political climate was very, very dark. It was a revolutionary act to be publicly against the war; I spent the pre-birthday part of the year going to lots of rallies and trying to figure out what political activism looked like in that climate. I started a little anti-war blog with a boyfriend. Howard Dean was being a badass, and I started going to his events.
Personally, I was frustrated and lost. The two years after 9/11 in New York were a blur of “Nothing matters! We might all die tomorrow!” and “Everything matters! We might die tomorrow!” It really started to eat at me that the world was going to shit around me, and I started thinking that maybe I couldn’t be an hobby activist. I met some really great people that year—three men, actually, there’s your Saturn for ya—who encouraged me to quit my job and become a freelancer. I started freelancing while still working in the fall of 2003, right after my 28th birthday in August, and then quit my 9-to-5 job for good in early 2004.
That was probably where I dealt with the Saturn principle as it relates to my dad the most. He is, besides being one of the funniest people ever, the hardest working man I know. He worked as a phone technician for 40 years before he retired, and has that very down-to-earth, German/Protestant work ethic. Good work was very important to him; not crazy high-paying work, but good work. He still does a lot of odd jobs for neighbors and friends in his retirement.
My 9-to-5 job was good work by his values, and I felt that. But it was making me very unhappy, and I struggled desperately when I was deciding to freelance. Going off into the unknown (especially with very little savings) was not something that was probably a good idea by his principles. He was often quiet when we talked about it, which to me meant, “I’m not really thinking this is a great idea, but I want you to be happy, so I’m just not going to say anything at all.” That actually meant a lot to me, especially in retrospect. Now, of course, he’s super proud of my career, which also means a lot to me.
J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
D: Very close. It was an emotionally intense time, very formative for me.
J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
D: Trust your instincts and capitalize on that badass masculine energy. Not like, “hey, go be a macho dude,” but more in the Jungian sense. Masculine energy is about being powerful externally, making things concrete in the world. That’s what Saturn asks us to do, I think. Stop foolin’ around and get to work. Who are you? Show me.
“Own your expertise” was something drilled into me much later at the Progressive Women’s Voices program at the Women’s Media Center. I wish I’d done that more right out of the gate when I first started freelancing and consulting. I’ve since tried to mentor other women younger than me entering the consulting life.
The other part of Saturn is the authority aspect – he asks us to develop our own authority through others’. Find a mentor and be explicit with her. Say, “I’m doing this, and I’d love for you to mentor me.” Keep doing that til someone agrees.
Last, despite all this focus on the external and masculine, don’t forget the internal and feminine energy. Get a good therapist, haha. Nurture and be good to yourself during this time – really, be very sweet and gentle with yourself. Use your internal nurturing strength to build a solid base for all that external badassery.
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Big thanks, Deanna. Everybody: Want to enjoy more of Deanna’s badassery? Visit www.deannazandt.com.
Photo: Deanna provided the one of herself on her 28th birthday.
Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1; Kara, #2; Saya, #3; Cathy (aka Mom), #4; Rachel, #5; Jen, #6; Cathy W., #7; Celeste, #8.
28 before 29, #7: Cathy W.
In the month leading up to my birthday, I’m asking folks what their lives were like at my age. (Explanation here.)
One evening this spring, I went to a writers’ group meeting at the Brooklyn home of Cathy Wasserman, an artist, social worker, and coach I’d met through my work at Idealist. Though I was only able to attend two meetings of the writers’ group before I moved, I tap into the memories often. The meetings were like mini-retreats, little oases in the midst of the NYC hustle-bustle, full of kind, supportive writers in a beautiful space. Cathy’s answers below make me feel close to those laughter-filled Brooklyn evenings all over again.
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Cathy: Oh, boy, maybe more than it should! Somehow I became familiar with the term around my 26th birthday. I seem to recall a friend telling me about it because that was a really tough year. Nothing like lots of endings and a health crisis to deliver one to the doorstep of massive transition! My friend told me about Saturn returns in an effort to cheer me up. She said something like, “Saturn returns around your 27th, 28th year so you’re ahead of the game. It’s kind of like you’re getting immunized now”. Oy, it didn’t exactly have the cheering effect she had hoped, but I decided to research the concept and sank into a few astrology books. I learned that Saturn returns is less an event than an intense process. It seems to mark a time in people’s lives where much ends, but before you’ve reached a point when new things have clearly begun. It’s a kind of pause before a whole new way of life begins, a ramping up period when it can feel like nothing is happening, except you’re swimming in some pretty treacherous molasses! For me, that was exactly, remarkably the case, and the transition involved a coming home to a new place to live, and what turned out to be an almost entirely different way of life—I moved from Boston to New York, macro to micro work and claimed my inner artist.
J: Where were you when you turned 28?
C: At 28, I was working at Jacobi Hospital in a day treatment program, living in Park Slope, writing a thesis on the relationship between dreaming and writing poetry, studying acting, and knee deep in writing a book of poetry and embracing that lil’ old inner artist. I was in love. With New York City. I mean really in love. There was almost nothing the place could do wrong. I went to one movie after another, museum, cultural event, and walked from one end of this city to the other. Sounds great, right? Well, some of it was, but a lot of it was disorienting. I was in a new place without many of the familiar markers and people of my old life. I was in training for a new career when I also knew that a huge part of my calling as an artist needed equal attention. Sometimes, I felt that molasses pull me under and, other times, I felt like the luckiest gal on, at least, the eastern seaboard!
J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
C: Strangely, I remember two seemingly simple things most about that year – the commute I made every morning from Brooklyn to the north Bronx, which took me almost 2 hours each way. Pity me, I had to arrive at work at 8 am! The commute was so exhausting, I would usually arrive home, do a bit of writing and then fall asleep. I felt ancient and there was something very appealing about being part of the working world that places demands on you.
I also remember the acting class that I took. Inspired by Julian Beck to study acting as an act of social resistance (Ok, I wasn’t that ancient in my girlish attitudes!), I was dedicated to attending class twice a week. The teacher would accept nothing less than total authenticity in every scene, and oy, it was not easy. Taken together, I realize both memories stuck because I was learning to really show up as an adult, no matter what. Sometimes, it was a bitter pill to swallow!
J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
C: At this point, I feel pretty far from these memories. Incredibly, it’s almost 15 years ago! But just talking about it, taps me right back into it. The feeling was/is of possibility, of finally, after so many years of feeling stuck in Boston, feeling a new sense of aliveness and experiencing alternating waves of joy and great fear around that. Knowing that I was on the cusp of not being so young anymore. That it was time to really settle into the choices that I was making, to stop letting freedom and possibility overwhelm me and to accept that some limits and structure could actually engender my full expression rather than curb it.
J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
C: I guess I would start off by saying that while Saturn returns intensively at around 28, my experience is that it’s an on-going process, a kind of prism through which much of one’s later experience is ‘angled’ and ‘colored’ because in some ways, Saturn returns yearly, monthly, weekly, and even moment by moment! For me, it’s really about being in touch with the depth of who we can be. That place between formation and realization. It’s an itchy place. A creative place. Very fertile. But not without it’s jagged rocks. If you can till that soil, take it, tolerate its edges, you’re in for a lot of growth and if you mostly resist it, you may be in for a whole lot of bumps.
I’d add start by investigating and respecting the way that life undulates between pathos and joy. That as much as we want to control that undulation, we often can’t. Acknowledging that can actually be empowering because it can open up the way for us to be present for what is at the same time as we strive to create what will be with as much integrity and life force as possible. I’d also say don’t be afraid to get support, it ain’t easy at times! Talk about what you’re letting go of, what you feel like you’re bringing into being even when you may not quite be sure. Claim the question marks. They can be wonderfully enlivening when we start from the assumption that discovery is a thrilling process in and of itself. I’d also say don’t be afraid to talk to those of us who have been through it already, seek out mentors. Don’t be afraid to both cry and laugh out loud. Many a time in my own coming into adulthood process, I just had to smile at how rigid and intense and unforgiving of myself I could be. And by the way, that I can still be! Yes, perhaps, most of all, try to be gentle with yourself, allow yourself to find the path to kindness to who you are not, but want to be and revere who you are becoming.
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Thank you, Cathy! Reader-friends, the tagline for Cathy’s coaching business is “Chart Your Own Course.” If you think you could benefit from her coaching (I think we all could!), visit her site, self-leadershipstrategies.com.
Photos by yours truly: Brooklyn “Sweet Talk” graffiti + Queens subway tracks, both from 2009.
Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1; Kara, #2; Saya, #3; Cathy (aka Mom), #4; Rachel, #5; Jen, #6.
28 before 29, #5: Rachel S.
Rachel is a good friend of my cousins Nikki and Dave. We met a few years ago and I swiftly developed a friend/professional crush on her because she was doing such cool work coordinating a documentary series called How Democracy Works Now. But we only crossed paths in person a few times and then she moved to LA and now here I am in Chicago and youknowhowitgoes.
So I was surprised and stoked when she expressed interest in this project when I posted it to Facebook. And then I was even more surprised—and energized and heartwarmed (actual verb)—when she sent me the following answers.
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Rachel: Yes it does! I first heard it when I was 25 or 26, some time in the first year that I lived in New York. A childhood friend of mine tended bar at Dempsey’s in the East Village, and it was a sort of weeknight gathering spot for most of the people I knew in New York then. Another bartender there was a few years older than us and really into astrology. She was always warning that in just a few years life was really going to suck, because Saturn was coming back to get us.
Everyone who was in their 30s would nod like, yeah, Saturn is coming for ya, it’s gonna suck, there’s nothing you can do. I would just sort of shrug, because what can you say to that!?
J: Where were you when you turned 28?
R: I was dancing on a table at the old Bulgarian bar on Broadway & Canal with my twin sister and all our buddies. It was such a fun birthday party! Back then Gogol Bordello was sort of the house band (kinda? They were there a lot) and there was sometimes a whirling dervish. And you could smoke inside and dance on the tables. It was so boss!
J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
R: I remember feeling: thank god 27 is over! 27 was terrible, let the smooth sailing begin! I thought that since our birthday is the 28th (of November), being 28 would obviously be awesome, and we probably got an early dose of Saturn Returns and were now in the clear. Fall 2004 felt like a weird time in a lot of ways… on a macro level the Red Sox had won the world series (amazing!), Bush was re-elected (inconceivable & infuriating!), and on a micro level I was dealing with some major anxiety and insomnia after witnessing a murder. I was so happy to have a birthday because sometimes a socially constructed turning point can be just what the doctor ordered, you know?
The positive-turning-point feeling continued as I moved to a new apartment in a new borough, but then in January my mom up and left my dad—on their 35th wedding anniversary!! It was MAYHEM. It was a complete shock to everyone except my mom, since they had been married for so, so long. They didn’t exactly have the romance of the century, but nobody saw a break up coming.
My older sister was in the middle of planning a Wedding (with a capital W), and had always been very close to our mom; she was especially devastated by the timing. We really circled the wagons—my sisters and brothers-in-law and I—and that closeness and how intensely we needed and supported each other is what I remember most vividly about that time. As far as divorce stories go there is nothing all that unusual about this one, but 7 years have passed and we are all still pretty unmoored by it. It definitely was one of the harder transitions of my life, so… Score 1 for Saturn!
J: What was happening in the world that year? Do you remember newsworthy events, books you read, movies or shows or art you experiences?
R: Well, Red Sox Oh my god!!!! Amazing! But then there was the Tsunami and Bush’s second term got off to such a crazy start what with trying to privatize Social Security, then Terry Schiavo, then the Pope died, then the London bombings, and Hurricane Katrina, two new Supreme Court Justices (and Harriet Miers, remember her?), Tom DeLay was indicted, then there was the transit workers strike in New York… It was a crazy year!
In terms of books and movies… well I remember that I saw I Heart Huckabees on my birthday afternoon and really loved it. Brokeback Mountain came out that year I think? The Colbert Report started and I went: SWOON! I read Kafka On The Shore when I shouldn’t have, I felt sad and edgy for weeks afterwards.
J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
R: I would have to say both, but I guess I would have to say that about most memories. My life now is so different from my life before that year, but it’s also very different from my life six months ago. But then here are all my same buddies and family and love, even though we are in different places and situations.
Four months ago my daughter Naomi was born, so the process of making a family and thinking a lot about parenting has certainly brought up feelings about my mom, and feelings about my parents’ marriage and divorce which make those memories feel sharper than they have in a very long time. If you’d asked me last August I think I would have said they feel like a billion years ago.
J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
R: Whatever you make of astrology, it is a time in life when people tend to go through transitions and evaluate their lives, and that’s a great opportunity! Outside of graduations, moving days, marriages, births, and deaths we don’t have many transitions that we can point to and say: now life changes. I think this is something to really embrace, especially if you want to make changes in some aspect of your life.
That point in life was tricky for a lot of people I know because they’d been “adult” long enough to know that many things were not going like they expected, and as 30 approached they got more and more agita thinking about what they felt life “should” be like (ie. they thought they should be published by now, should be married by now, should own an apartment, whatever marker they made for themselves at 15 or 21 or whenever).
This is nothing but trouble. No good can come from this line of thinking!
So forget about what should or should not be. This is the time to sack up and be who you are, or rue the day that Saturn came for you and you decided to be someone else. Saturn returns with major growing pains, so try to go easy on yourself and your friends if/when who you are and what you want is not what you had in mind at 10 or 15 or 22.
Oh my word speaking of growing pains I can’t believe that I forgot the most amazing thing about being 28… I grew almost an inch taller! It was incredible! All of a sudden I was even taller than my twin! There are not enough exclamation points in the world for me to accurately convey how exciting this was and still is to me. My doctor said that this happens to about 25% of women in their late twenties. So hey, that was one fantastic and unexpected change.
Also, well, life is full of tumultuous stretches, and for me when I’m on the other side of them I say “Phew! Glad that’s over!” But while I’m going through it I never think “Gah, tumult!” Maybe I should? I dunno, just roll with it! Like right now, I have a tiny baby. She is awesome! Life with her is awesome! But then sometimes I also cry on the floor in the bathroom, because it’s exhausting and hormones and blahblahblah all the things which are true about life with tiny babies. This is very tumultuous, but also wonderful, so here we are again.
J: Do you have other suggestions about what I should ask? Anything else you’d like to share?
Not sure about other questions… but I would like to share that when you feel like Saturn is getting you down, this song can help.
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Merci beaucoup, Rachel! Who else would recount such a tricky time in her life for a near-stranger? (Well, actually, for the sake of this project, I hope Saya and Rachel are just the first two of several.) Here’s hoping we cross paths again in person soon.
Photo: Rachel provided this picture of herself (on the right) with her two sisters in 2004.
Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1; Kara, #2; Saya, #3; Cathy (aka Mom), #4.
28 before 29: Kara, #2
As I explained here, I’m turning 29 next month. Folks who pay attention to astrology keep telling me that this has been the year when “Saturn returned” and I’ve become an adult. Whether that’s true or not, I figured this was as good an excuse as any to reach out to people I know and love, learn about transitions they experienced around my age (even if they’re not very far from my age now!), and hopefully giving them an excuse for a few minutes of reflection.
Today we hear from Kara, my friend and former coworker. In addition to embodying all of the best things “human resources” can be, Kara is an aspiring DIYer with an affinity for power tools, recently blew the dust off of her sewing machine, and is delighted that her penchant for marathon and triathlon racing is rubbing off on her kids (well, at least they’re willing to show up for family fun runs with her).
Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?
Kara: Nope. But when I looked it up, I got excited that I (hopefully) will turn 56 one day (1/5/2033)! In retrospect, applying the “Saturn returns” theory to my 28th year is in alignment, but I wouldn’t call that a bullet proof astrological occurance. Change and growth are constant.
J: Where were you when you turned 28?
K: I was living in New York City. It was a pretty grand moment in time, actually, as I had just gotten engaged a few months earlier and was in the midst of wedding planning. I was also delving deep into yoga – for all the right reasons? wrong reasons? Who knows, but I was the best shape of my life and loved having a refuge of quiet to escape to that still fed my innate need to have physical challenges. And it was awesome that my fiance shared in it, too.
In some ways, I was embarking on one of the public milestones we have in society that marks a passage of time. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that marriage ultimately establishes some level of maturity or adult-ness, but I definitely felt like it was marking a very thoughtful and reprecussions-laced decision, though I didn’t quite feel like it established my arrival into adulthood. I was really more psyched that the transitory nature of my 20′s (locations, jobs, relationships) would at least be slowing down a bit.
What strikes most about that year is that it turned out to be nothing like I had ever imagined. I had been in NYC six years when I thought I’d only be there for one. I never anticipated that the quiet of yoga was where I would draw so much energy and strength (of all varieties) having been an externally competitive sport-y person earlier. I was planning an inter-faith wedding after only having ever been to Catholic ceremonies. That my fiance and I would trade in a spacious studio for a 375 square foot one-bedroom. Location, baby! It was like I kept surprising myself when I had a moment to step back and look at my life as a whole instead of in the dizzying maze of details. That was kind of awesome – then and now.
J: What are one or two or three things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?
K: It was a year of milestones so it’s hard to forget. Yet, even with all of these big events, there is a moment that sticks in my head pretty vividly. It was the evening my fiance and I, hunched over his little Dell desktop computer, wrote out the first draft of our wedding ceremony. I loved how, regardless of all the wedding details, we both wanted the ceremony to be the heart of it all. I loved how we pushed and pulled with ideas, trying to find ways to bring to life our values and convey the essence of what our love is/was. It was the kind of night that you can’t ever plan for but in the end was completely and utterly awesome.
The wedding planning with all of its twists and turns led to a wedding which, 7 weeks later, led to me waking up one morning wondering why I suddenly was repulsed by one of my favorite foods (peanut butter) and why seemingly overnight I had developed boobs that were making my husband do double takes when he looked my way.
While I have always wanted kids, I never thought the stars would align at the time that they did. I am thankful, grateful, sometimes still overwhelmed by how everything came together.
So a year earlier I may have been fretting about wedding invitation paper colors, but on the eve of my 29th birthday, I was trying to wrap my head around how two lines on a little stick meant that I was now responsible for another human being.
So in retrospect, Saturn returned in a big way. Interestingly, I still didn’t feel like an “adult.” I felt more like a kid masquerading in a grown-up world.
J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?
K: At 7.5 years post-28th birthday, it’s a mixed bag.
There are moments now between my husband and I that recall those butterflies — the ones I had when we were engaged and everything seemed so glow-y — nudging them from their hibernation in our day-to-day routine that bring me right back.
At other times, I recall how my self-esteem wavered about minor decisions (“do I need to make a seating chart for the rehearsal dinner?” I didn’t, by the way, and everyone survived – shocking!). Those types of things seem frivolous in comparison to my current and constant re-evaluation mode of how my parenting is going to land my children in therapy in 20 years (just in time for my 56th birthday)!
J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?
K: Find a way remember or capture/document it. Take gentle care with the relationships that matter most to you. There is much to learn – in the moment and well after.
P.S. This interview prompted me to read my journal entries from around this time. I got a good laugh, an ego boost and a dose of humility. Thanks for the reminders!
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Kara, you are a gem. Thank you for time traveling with me.
Photos: The image of Kara, circa 2005, is by Brian Altman. I took the NYC skyline photo in April 2010.
Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1. Want to participate? Drop me a line or leave a comment.
