I was living in New York City in the Village with my very young daughter, newly divorced, alone, and quite broke. Christmas was going to be meager, or so I thought at the time, which was around 1970.
I barely had any friends in the city but around December, I met John and we quickly became friends. John was from England, kind of an offbeat free spirit and reminded me of the Beatles, who, at the time, were very popular, having recently visited New York. I would take walks and have long talks with John, who like me, seemed somewhat of a loner.
My most recent graphic design job had ended with a layoff, as had many advertising jobs around that time. Freelance graphics jobs were fewer and farther between. My financial situation required frugality, to say the least.
So Christmas Eve found me alone with my daughter, just glad to be with her. At some point there was a buzz at the door, and after buzzing back, and a bit of wait to see who it was (I lived in a 2nd floor walk up), John appeared, and with him a magnificent Scotch Pine, having dragged it through the streets of Manhattan, when some tree seller threw it out. We put it up and I had a tree, a friend and a Christmas filled with warmth and cheer, as well as spirit. I’ll never forget that Christmas, or John—who since then has enjoyed many Christmas’ with my daughter and I.
I was born and raised in a section of Brooklyn, New York, where the streets were lined with one-hundred-year-old homes and quaint mom-and-pop shops. The house that my family and I lived in was a large, two-family stucco structure, located at 190 Sheffield Avenue. Although the house was torn down years ago, I will never forget the strange and frightening things that happened to me, there.
I watched him as he crept up to the gate and began to walk parallel to it. When he got to the entrance, his head turned, and our eyes locked. I wanted to run but I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t even think. Although it seemed like an hour, I think that only a few seconds had gone by and finally, he turned his stare away from me and he continue walking. At that point, I unfroze and ran into the house and up to the second floor, where we lived. I raced into my room, shutting the door behind me, and tried to calm down.
It was Halloween night in the late seventies and I was living in a modern apartment building on First Avenue and Seventy Second Street. A friend who was a well-off doctor invited my roommate and me to a Halloween gathering at his brownstone in Greenwich Village. It was not a costume party or a haunted house show, just a small group of friends getting together for cocktails and some food.
First and foremost, what I like to do around Halloween time in New York City, is hit up the 
Another tradition which I’ve kept up has been part of my October in NYC roster ever since I was 16 years old trying to find something to do. It is the 
If Blood Manor is not your cup of tea, and neither are the crazy Kostume Kult extravaganzas, perhaps you would be more inclined to do attend a show. And for Halloween, the only show is 
While I was walking down East 11th street I walked upon the Cinema Village Theater when I saw a man on a ladder changing the lettering on the showing sign in front of the theater. I had never seen them actually change the signs before so I stopped and watched the man. As I was about to continue on with my walk the man yelped out “OH NO!” I looked up and saw the man on the ladder reaching through the air for something. When I turned to see what the man had so dreadfully lost I saw a plastic sheet with the letter “R” written on it blowing down the street going to no particular destination. I thought I’d be nice to the man and help him out so I yelled to him “I’ll grab that for you!” I placed my bag next to his ladder and jogged towards that letter which by now had blown into the intersection where traffic was passing through, driving right on top of it. I waited for the crossing light to turn and then ran out and stomped on the letter just before the wind had a chance to catch it again. I picked it the letter and slowly walking back to the theater I cleaned off the dirt with my jacket. When I got back to the man I handed the letter to him and he popped it in place. We exchanged comments and right before I picked up my bag to leave, the man handed me an “ADMIT ONE” ticket and said “Thank You.”
There is simply no place like New York City. The noise of horns, the people on the streets and the outside vendors–all come together like a wonderful work of art. It can become a bit overwhelming at times, but you definitely get used to it after a while. After the initial phase of jaw dropping awe, you begin to appreciate it like no other place in the world and eventually, some of us are even able to call this wonderful place home.
I was amazed at the beauty of the flowers and the tons of green space available. How could something so tranquil sit amongst all of the noise of New York City? I was thrilled that I would finally have a place like this to call my own. Ever since the first day I visited the Botanic Gardens, I have been going there at least once or twice a month. It provides a sense of peace yet still had a wow factor that you can’t get anywhere out and about the city. There are all kinds of flowers, and trees planted which you could spend an entire day touring. This was such a unique experience for me because I was used to the noise of the city, and to find this place was simply awesome.
This may seem like a million (or thousand) years ago, but remember when the millennium loomed large on the horizon? There was a huge question as to whether the world would actually function the next day. There was the distinct possibility of real chaos breaking out at the stroke of midnight. Would computers freak out and take over the world? Would there be rioting? I knew there was only one place to spend New Year’s 1999 and that was New York City.
Living in Manhattan, I’ve explored and enjoyed lots of rooftop lounges and bars in the city. The best ones offer a level of quality and service that live up to incredible vistas, but everyone knows about those places. It’s the underground ones, the hidden ones that sit unannounced atop buildings on unlikely blocks, unknown gems like the Mé Bar, that pique my interest.
Although we are only on the 14th floor, it is still nice to be above the din of the city. The street below is the busiest in Koreatown, and it’s packed with people jamming the sidewalks coming and going from the many excellent restaurants on this block.
For a rather luxurious dining experience, imagine the courtyard of Louis XVI, the perfect place for a night on the town or an after work treat. Paris may have its sidewalk cafes with views of the Eiffel tower, but NYC is the place for dining in the clouds. Rooftops are the hideaway of choice for some of New York s most exclusive restaurants, and we at JSD were invited to attend one of the trendiest spots, XVI. Located on the 16th floor of west 251st the venue on a Friday night is positively swarming with professionals and socialites.
The golden accents, rugs and seating are all reminiscent of France’s most luxurious and infamous period. In addition to the beautiful surroundings the equally lovely and cheerful waitstaff roam the venue eager to grant you every request. It’s very much like being an invited guest in the King’s court.