Aftermath

This daughter of mine

Unabashed pink, sturdy girlhood

There’s nothing to suggest in that ladybug smile

Or curls lilting with the melody

That track three of the Stephen Foster songbook

Could be the perfect song for a baby girl’s funeral.

I planned every inch of this healthy child

From her conception to now this memorial.

Unwelcome, unbidden, good ideas for bad.

You could slap me with your words and I would not blame you

Understand this.

I have travelled to funeral homes

Held tiny, exquisite urns in my hands

Seen Lilliputian caskets too small to truly contain a life

The funeral processions should have been held in a doll’s house

I drink her up and swing her about

No other baby of mine

Will rest in a dark box I had to choose

You beg me for euphemisms but I can’t help you.

I fold up my map

I try to put it away

But it has been folded and refolded

Shaped, cut and put together

By hands too small too write their own names

This poem was adapted from one I wrote about 15 years ago. I happened upon recently while packing files to prepare for our apartment renovation. I had completely forgotten that I ever wrote it - wrote anything - having put it away as soon as I hurriedly penned it.

I wrote this soon after my son Jacob died and an adorable girl was inching her way into our hearts. It accurately reflects the feelings I was having at the time – considerable post- traumatic stress from my child dying, and ever-present fears for my surviving child. I was also supporting other parents whose children died from cancer by attending funerals and being present for them.

I’m grateful to have come across this writing. This is a record of what happened. This is a record of the distance I have come and the two times connecting.

I didn’t have a blog then. There weren’t blogs then. But I did write just a little. The seeds were planted. And here they are.

The Expectation Of Quiet

Jeremy and I were living in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I was doing freelance photography during the week and working at a beautiful bookstore on the weekends. I made lots of new friends at the bookstore. Jeremy and I also made friends with the friends of the people I met at the bookstore.

One evening, a friend of a friend of mine from the bookstore had a party in her Park Slope apartment. I remember the apartment. People in NYC always remember details about one another's apartments.

One of the most striking things about this apartment was the large piano in the living room.

It started out as a regular party. There were cocktails. There was conversation. There was recitation of poetry. One of my friends from the bookstore was a poet. That is what she did when she wasn't working at the bookstore. She was reciting one of the poems she'd written that week from memory.

We had all had a number of cocktails. That is when one of my friends suggested that everyone gather around the piano. Fantastic idea. Why have a piano if was just going to sit there gathering dust?

There were these books I was obsessed with a child. They are the All-of-a-Kind Family series. I will tell you that people gathering around the piano to sing together is very All of a Kind Family.

The part of it that was not so All of a Kind Family was that this sing-along commenced past midnight. This was not something at the forefront of our minds. Nor was working at the bookstore early the next morning. There was a remedy for that one. I had recently turned all of my colleagues on to Snapple Iced Tea. Someone would make a Snapple run to the deli next door when we all started to fade.

The friend giving the party sat down at the piano. We all gathered around. There was sheet music on the piano. All of the sheet music seemed to be songs that were popular in the 1970s. I knew all the lyrics already. I have no musical talent except for an uncanny ability to learn lyrics quickly and then remember those lyrics for the rest of my life.

We sang a few songs. What I lack in a melodious singing voice I made up for in volume and enthusiasm. Some of the people there could harmonize. This is good because having them sing with me made me feel like a good singer. That, and the cocktails.

If you are picturing an extremely nerdy scene you would be right. I'll say this for myself. I already know. For a segment of my life, I believe I was cool. That part of my life lasted for twelve consecutive years.  Before then, I was not cool. Afterwards, I was not cool. It was like I was temporarily able to shake off my nerdy features for a bit. Then they came back for me. Once that happened, I put up no resistance.

The evening I am describing is after I became nerdy again.

After much revelry, came my favorite song of the evening. Piano Man by Billy Joel. If you were still thinking that maybe I had some residual shred of coolness left, I am about to put the last nail in that coffin.

I’m admitting publicly that I love the entire Billy Joel songbook. I don’t love Uptown Girl or New York State of Mind as much as Piano Man and Just The Way You Are. Uptown Girl and New York State of Mind are my guilty pleasures. The earlier material is my pleasure pleasures.

It has been suggested by someone very close to me – Jeremy Shatan – that perhaps all of Billy Joel’s material should be considered a guilty pleasure – the entire body of work. I have chosen not to take this suggestion. Jeremy and I sometimes disagree yet he does continue love me just the way I am.

It was without a hint of irony that I joined my friends in a heartfelt, rather emotionally charged rendition of Piano Man.

Then came the knock on the door.

There was a uniformed police officer standing there. Someone had called in a noise complaint.

As I look back over this time, I realize that I was in the wrong. We shouldn't have been engaging in piano playing and singing at such a late hour. There is such a thing, in NYC apartment parlance, as quiet hours. This was beyond anyone's definition of that.

Also, piano playing plus 15 people singing would be a major irritant even during the day, even if you happen to like the Billy Joel songbook, even if you have a sense of humor, even if you drink cocktails yourself.

Knowing that I was in the wrong this one time doesn't keep me up at night.

I love NYC. I love it because of the rich culture, the excitement, the fun. I love that my music-loving husband can go listen to bands that he loves and that we can go to museums. I love that the city never sleeps even as I do. I love the energy. I love that I can take the subway and I am in a completely different neighborhood. In many cases, it's almost like going to another country

But these are not the only things I love. I love the proximity of other people. Even when I don't talk to someone, I like seeing them. Jeremy and I thought about moving to the burbs. A lot of our neighbors were doing it. One of the reasons we didn't do it was the isolation I thought I'd feel.

Everyone who lives in NYC has their own reasons. For some people, it's similar. For others it's not. Some people live here in spite of all the things I mentioned not because of them. Others are doing so by default. They're living here in a state of inertia.

But it's always a choice.

I live in peaceful proximity to most of my neighbors. Some of the most exemplary individuals I've ever met are my neighbors. A lot of them would give you the shirt off their back.

My days of geeky and noisy partying have passed. The parties we have now are birthday parties. They are in the middle of the afternoon. Quiet hours find us either asleep or getting ready for school.

The noise our treadmill makes, the noise our active son makes and the noise of our being alive is upsetting to some people. These people want a sanctuary in a thriving metropolis. These people have a firm expectation of quiet. Some are sensitive souls. Almost all of them have advice about being a parent. We receive this advice in the form of anonymous notes. We receive unexpected knocks on the door from people who have never bothered to say hello or introduce themselves before issuing a complaint.

I could write an entire post about ways to work these things out and ways not to work these things out. I'm saving that for another time.

But here is what I will say today. By leaving me a note or coming to my apartment unannounced you are breaking a social contract. You have an expectation of quiet. But you are not quiet.

I hear you.

I hear the cell phone conversation you had in my courtyard last night. I wasn't trying to listen. It's the acoustics. It comes straight into my apartment at a higher volume than seems logical. Anyone wanting a private discourse in my courtyard should think twice.

You have a delightful and strapping son. But when he was a baby, his cries were so high pitched and pitiful I was in a constant state of gratitude that none of my children had colic. You were having a tough time. I get that.

I hear you running the vacuum when I am ready to go to sleep. When Whitney Houston died, you held a musical vigil. I waited for it to pass. It did.

The sharp click of high heels. The renovation you did before moving in. The sound of your hammer as you decorate. The sound of late summer evenings spilling over as you come home, your children's laughter mingling with your conversation. Your TV. I can almost hear the show you're watching but not quite. It has a laugh track.

I am surrounded by noise. Even as the electric company jackhammers, I hear you. The noise is a two way street.

I wonder if I should be tit for tat. But my heart isn't in it. I'm not a martyr, either. I never have been.

The noise I hear is the sound of NYC. It's the sound of people living. It's the sound of not being alone. It's the sound of living in a community. The truth is that most of it is music to my ears.

Make no mistake. I hear you. It is a choice not to complain. I chose to live here. I chose to live here surrounded by noise.

Granted, none of it is three in the morning, alcohol-fueled, toxic noise. I'm not making that noise either.

There is an alternative to my choice. There is the verdant countryside. A little house on a couple of acres. Tall trees and bushes between you and the neighbors. The sound of birds and wind. A reality instead of a wish. It’s not for me. But it may be for you.

Blizzard

The blizzard was named Juno. It was supposed to be historic.

I'm not Al Roker. I'm not StormCopter. I'm not StormCenter. I'm not a member of StormTeam or Weather on the 1's. I did not attempt to predict the weather. I listened to all of these sources. But even as I listened, I remembered something I've learned through experience. Weather is notoriously hard to predict. Even for StormCopter.

I prepared for the blizzard. It was mostly common sense. I do grocery shopping weekly. The weekly shopping I already did would get us through any storm. I changed one appointment to earlier in the day. I checked the flashlights and batteries. I urged Jeremy to bring work home rather than work late.

I did not go to big box stores and lay in tons of supplies. I saw people doing this on the news and it got me thinking about Blizzard Hoarding. I've never heard this terminology before because I just made it up. That said, I think this concept has some merit.

I set aside small, discrete periods of time to watch blizzard coverage. It turns out that I like watching speculation about blizzards and how bad they are anticipated to be. I enjoy watching news conferences about the blizzard with the mayor and the governor.

I enjoy watching blizzards out my window. But it seems that it is not enough to simply look at snow falling and wind blowing from my apartment. I must also watch the blizzard on TV. It is life affirming to watch New Yorkers banding together in scrappy, innovative ways. It gives me perspective to watch how bad things are in Islip. Things are always worse in Islip.

So if I didn't set aside specific periods where I allow myself to do this, I would be doing it all the time. I permitted myself to watch it while folding laundry. I watched right before going to sleep when my brain is not on full throttle anyway.

I woke up the next morning and went over to the window. It was cold and windy. There was snow on the ground. I could see that it was less than was predicted. I figured that the blizzard had changed direction at some point.  This has happened before. It's also gone the other way. Sometimes weather is much worse than you think it will be. That's weather.

I wouldn't have thought much more about it except that I went on Facebook. I also turned on the TV. That’s when I realized some people were very emotional about the blizzard.

The negative reactions New Yorkers had about the blizzard fit into some basic categories.

Political reactions

Some people were very upset with NYC Mayor Bill De Blasio and NY State Governor Andrew Cuomo for holding press conferences and then shutting down the subways and busses. They called them fascists because they did not allow people to drive without incurring a fine. The same people said that NYC and New York State are turning into an actual fascist state. I belong to a very special political party. It is called the better safe than sorry platform. So I think the next time there's a bad forecast, they should do it again. I think it would also be good if they shut everything down for the next gentle snowfall. Or really hot summer weather. I'd enjoy that.

Conspiracy theories.

Going hand in hand with fascism, was the idea that the forecast and response was all part of a conspiracy to distract New Yorkers from more important matters. Apparently the news media, Al Roker, Bill De Blasio and Andrew Cuomo were all in cahoots. If this is true it may have worked. The day after the storm, many people were distracted by conspiracy theories and lack of snowfall.

Just because you're paranoid does not mean that the weatherman and the mayor aren't out to get you.

Wasted supplies and wasted time getting supplies

Some people were upset that they bought a lot of extra food and other supplies and spent time waiting on long lines and going to multiple establishments. They felt that getting the supplies and then not losing electricity, heat or contact with others was an affront.

I'd like to suggest that New Yorkers shift focus next time there is a blizzard forecasted. How much food do you really need to eat during a blizzard?  This laying in of food is a missed opportunity for New Yorkers to engage in something trendy. That is fasting, cleansing and juicing. If you lose electricity, then you can't use the blender. You can still mash and whisk. You can still fast.

Boredom

People enjoy watching action movies. They also enjoy watching blizzards. Some people were very disappointed that the blizzard didn't dish up  more entertainment. NYC wasn't crippled. There wasn't footage of people stranded in their cars, cars abandoned at jaunty angles, death, dangerous fallen power lines, trees impaling houses, people falling on top of one another on icy sidewalks, familiar landmarks destroyed by snow or biblical style carnage. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Having to go to work and having to leave the apartment

Until this blizzard, I didn't know just how much many New Yorkers enjoy staying in their apartments and how much they hate their jobs. The fact that the blizzard was mild and people were able to move about freely come Tuesday afternoon was deeply disappointing to many. Rather than feeling grateful that work was closed on Tuesday, some people were apparently expecting their businesses to be shuttered until March.

People were jealous of Boston because those people stayed home longer. They had been counting on the blizzard to interrupt a day-to-day life that has grown tired and unbearable. That's a lot of pressure on one blizzard. Maybe the blizzard isn't the main problem here.

People from the Midwest and upstate New York criticizing New Yorkers and the lame blizzard

During other weather events, I have been guilty of this. I come from Syracuse. I went trick or treating with my costume stuffed into my snow pants.

Other places got more snow during Juno. Other places get more snow on a regular winter day that NYC ever gets. That is not because you are superior or did anything right. You did not invent heavy snowfall. It just happened. It's the weather. It’s the lakes.

In the end, I was not bored, disappointed, or paranoid about the blizzard. I did not feel jealous of Boston.

I went for a walk on Tuesday afternoon and took these pictures. The blizzard wasn't historic. But it was still interesting and beautiful. I liked it a lot. These are the photographs I took before the snow got dirty. We're supposed to get more snow soon. Well see what that brings. I'm good either way.

Snowfall + precious peek of colorful plant = Peaceful scene

I like making collages and I like finding them.

I love it when snow gets stuck in the bark. It's like punctuation.

More punctuation.

These snowdrifts form on the outside sills of one of our windows. This one was about 8 inches high. It was fun opening the window and taking a close up.

Obligatory shot of car buried in snow. At least it’s artistic.

They Create: Jeremy Shatan’s Playful Paper Cut-Outs

I’ve said it before. My husband, Jeremy Shatan, is a Renaissance man.

He raises money to help children with cancer. He is a serious baker. He’s an avid skier. He writes about music for his blog, AnEarful.

He does too many things well to list them all here. In addition to all of the other stuff he works on, Jeremy also makes these whimsical and wonderful paper cut-outs.

Ever since we became a couple, Jeremy and I have always been intent on creating our own holiday traditions. We tend to take classic elements from Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas, and Chanukah, and give them a unique spin. We pick and choose what we like, discard what we don’t, then reinvent the rest.

Jeremy began making the paper cutouts as alternative to commercial, mass-produced decorations when our children were very small. We are still enjoying the first creations he made 17 years ago. Over the years, he's added to the collection, inspired by birthdays and other celebrations. They hang from our doorways and ceilings. They're affixed to our walls, windows and front door.

The paper cutouts are serving an even higher purpose now. Our firstborn, Jacob, inspired Jeremy's first cutouts and lots of other art, too. Jacob passed away from childhood cancer at the age of two and a half. Every year, we form a group called Team Jacob in his honor. We participate in a special walk to remember him and raise money to help children with cancer. You can learn more here.

For the last two years, Jeremy and I have created a theme for Team Jacob based on some of Jacob's favorite things. In 2013 our theme was the Granny Smith apple because not only was this one of Jacob's favorite foods, he also loved noticing apples everywhere we went.

When Jacob was being treated with chemotherapy, it was a challenge getting him to eat enough. So Jeremy made Jacob special waffles called Power Pack Waffles. They were loaded with the nutrition and calories Jacob needed. In 2014, Jacob's waffle became our theme.

I wanted to share Jeremy's thoughts, process and creations with you. So I interviewed him.

Describe what you remember about the early days of your paper cutouts. Why paper cutouts as opposed to paintings, photography or a different art form?

When it came time to celebrate Jacob's first birthday, I didn't like the commercial themes and designs of the stuff they sold for kids' parties back then. Since it was common to have wall and hanging decor made of heavy card stock, I thought I would just make my own. 

I wanted them to be simple shapes that Jacob could recognize - and I'm good at drawing simple things. At first I thought I would do imaginary bugs but then I decided on hippos, rhinos and elephants as they are easier to cut out and we had a history of buying stuffed animals of those creatures. 

When it came time to make them, I found it very easy to make a line drawing and then cut it out using an X-ACTO knife. I discovered a real affinity for that tool, enjoying the sensation of the blade cutting through paper. I often enter a flow state when I cut, a relaxed, focused mode where every instinct is the right one.

I never considered other media as photography was an involved process back then and I wasn't confident in my abilities with paint. I also like the absolutely graphic quality of colored paper, giving each element of the final product an even, overall color. 

Talk a little about how our friends and family have responded to your cutouts.

The best first audience for the cutouts was Jacob. We hung up the hippo, rhino and elephant from a beam in our apartment while he was napping before his first birthday party. When he woke up, I brought him out and held him up high, near the decorations. "Wow!" he said in a drawn out and clearly enunciated expression of wonder. At that moment I knew I had done something very special. Those three are still hanging in our apartment, 17 years later.

When it comes to the holiday cutouts, everyone has loved them. The feedback I've gotten tells me that people like the fresh approach to classic themes, somehow making stock images like wreaths and menorahs new to them again.

Having birthday parties for our kids year after year took the themes of the cutouts to a different level. Describe a birthday party or two and how you used the cutouts and other paper elements in your decor.

When Hannah was little, she got really into the circus. She liked anything to do with that form of entertainment so we made that the theme of her party. I really challenged myself with some of my most elaborate designs yet, including a decorated elephant standing on a drum and a trapeze artist swinging through the air. 

The year before that, we paid tribute to Hannah's well-rounded interests. She liked ducks, trucks, and globes ("Eart!" She would say, pointing) so that's what I made for her.  We would've had to buy three different sets to cover all those bases!

Noah's parties were fun because he was all boy, so that meant balls of all shapes and sizes one year and a three-car steam engine the next. 

Could you give our readers a paper cutout "recipe" along with some helpful hints? 

I always start with a sort of Platonic image in my mind: what would the perfect Santa hat look like? Of course, that image is filtered through my taste, memory and perception so it can't help but be an individualized idea. 

Once I have the image in my mind, I think about how I can achieve it using the minimum amount of elements. In the case of the Santa hat, I knew I would need a red triangle, a fluffy white brim and a fluffy ball for the top.  After choosing my paper, I draw each element, which is one translation of the image into reality, and then cut out the shape, which is another. I accept the changes that occur during this translation process - as long as I'm satisfied with the final results, of course. 

Then I glue everything together. If it's going to hang from the ceiling, then it needs to be double-sided, which means making two of every element, except for the central one (in this example, I only needed one red triangle) - another good reason to use as few pieces as possible. 

Here are some technical tips:

1. If you're unfamiliar with X-ACTO knives, experiment before your first project. Don't press - just drag your blade through the paper (I often think of molecules parting, believe it or not). Buy lots of blades and change them often. Dull blades rip paper. 

2. Splurge on glue. It can be seriously annoying to have all these beautiful bits of cut paper and then your final piece has all kinds of bubbles and bulges because you used Elmer's glue. I used to use this weird stuff that came in a white tub. I think I got it at Kate's Paperie.  In any case, go to a good store, ask their advice, and make no object of money. Cheap paper is fine - cheap glue is untenable. 

3. Have fun with it! If you enjoy the process then you can't help but be satisfied with the result. 

They Create: The Playful Paper Cutouts of Jeremy Shatan is the second in an ongoing series about creative people across many disciplines.

Read They Create: The Lego Artistry of Don Rice.

Halloween Cat

Acrobat for Hannah's circus birthday party

Jeremy made me Mother's Day and birthday cards using his beloved X-ACTO knife & glue

Detail of oft-worn Team Jacob granny smith apple shirt

Team Jacob wore the waffle in 2014

Thanksgiving pie, 3rd birthday clown & Christmas candy cane

This pumpkin is faded from many years of Halloween window display

Chanukah gelt

The Beauty In The Before

Before the before I'm talking about today, we were just living in our apartment. When we moved in, everything was freshly painted and new and nice. Almost all of the apartment was working for us. Sure, some of it was a bit mismatched. It wasn't glamorous. But it was a cozy, functional place to raise our children and a sweet place to come home to.

Over time, some parts of the apartment stopped working as well. We cobbled things together until more of it wasn't working. Then we started the renovation.

One day recently, I was having a private conversation with a friend using Facebook Message. I don’t remember what started it. We were having a nice dialogue and then the subject turned toward the renovation.

The friend wanted to know why I wasn’t posting any pictures of our apartment on Facebook. This is a reasonable question. I like to post things on Facebook.

My answer at the time was because the apartment isn’t finished yet.

Almost immediately, I realized both the error and irony of my answer. The error and irony comes from two places.

All though this renovation process, I’ve been focusing on the word process. The apartment will never be finished, finished. Even after the shelves are delivered, the furniture in place, the paint job done and the rug laid, there will still be more things to do.

We will need to possibly get more shelves made once we’ve unpacked. Well have to find a spot for my new printer. There may be some trips to the Container Store to maximize the insides of our closets.

There is bedding and throw pillows and area rugs. That is what I’m calling the fun part.

So if I’m waiting for the apartment to be finished before posting pictures that is absolutely ridiculous. I’m taking it back. Forget I said anything.

I then considered the concept of the before picture. Initially, this idea was worrisome. Who wants to post pictures of piles of stuff, half packed boxes, dusty corners and walls in extreme need of a paint job?

Then I realized that I am in fact, the person who should do this.

I am a person who finds beauty in things like trash, dead plants, weeds and city streets.  Once I remembered that, I looked at my apartment with new eyes.

I started taking some pictures. Not your classic before and after views that one sees on HGTV. I’m sure I’ll take those too. Just not now.

The pictures I took were of things that are suddenly ephemeral. They’re about to be painted over, taken down, re-purposed, re-organized, given away. They’re about to be swept up, boxed up, cleaned, thrown out, replaced or refinished.

I am welcoming in the new and saying goodbye to the old. Saying goodbye isn’t easy. These photographs are my way of saying see you later. I won’t forget about the scratches, the corner, the outgrown toy, the shelf brackets or the milk crates. The truth is that I don’t forget much of anything.

Here is my version of the before.

We are saving all of our Fresh Direct delivery boxes for packing. There are a pile of them wedged between the treadmill and some CDs.

There will be new shelves to hold this pile of books Jeremy has earmarked to read. Our coasters have seen better days. The new ones Jeremy got me for Christmas will soon be gracing our tables.

Jeremy has always loved sharing music. Back in the day, he loved making mixtapes. The old-school nature of them bugged me for a while, but I’ve learned to love them again. The sunlight has faded the labels, but they are still readable.

We’ve outgrown these bracketed shelves and have packed up what used to be there. They look spare and pretty in the late afternoon light. Some pretty peeling paint will soon be covered in a color called Horizon. Hannah’s art, rolled up and ready for TLC treatment.

Hannah got a jewelry box kit one birthday. It sits atop a list of Noah’s and a scratched filing cabinet that will live inside a closet. This copy paper catching the light will have a proper home soon.

I used this pretty notebook for ideas back in my commercial still life photography days. I took a photograph of it before pitching it. This was my kitchen table throughout my childhood. My parents were nice enough to give it to us after they remodeled their kitchen. We are having it refinished, but the scratches are so interesting I wanted to record them.

Jeremy truly treasures his music and that has blessed our family. These piles are awaiting alphabetization and storage. Soon they will have a lovely place to call home.

You might also like:

Apartment Renovation Manifesto

No Scary Boxes