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Kindness Takes The Train
Along with the announcement, that we’re moving like a snail because of a train in front of us, I hear the mother say to the guy who got up, “That was the nicest thing that’s ever happened to us on the train.” 🙂
Posted in Culture, Family, Fashion, humanity, humor, inspiration, kids, Love, men, nature, New York City, parents, travel, women, words, writing
Tagged #randomactsofkindness, #ridingtheNewYorksubway, #snowfallnyc, families
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Did You Know…New York City Edition
The gargoyles of the sixty-first floor of the Chrysler Building were designed exactly like the hood ornaments on Walter Percy Chrysler’s automobiles.
Nice having money.
The Statue of Liberty is 305 feet tall and might have had one helluva modeling career. She’s been known to sway in the wind, why visitors no longer can go up as high as her torch.
Wonder if there was ever a bar up there.
Could explain further about Lib’s swaying. 
Washington Square Park in 1871 was built over a Potter’s Field where approximately 20,000 bodies of the poor and unidentified were buried, many with yellow fever wrapped in yellow blankets to distinguish them.
Occasionally while working, ConEdison will report finding a scrap of yellow or even a bone. Wonder what happens to what they find?
Keep your eye out on eBay.
When the Brooklyn Bridge was completed in 1883 connecting Brooklyn and Manhattan, people were worried it was unsafe to cross.
The showman P.T. (Phineas Taylor) Barnum never missing an opportunity to grandstand whose circus at the time was in Brooklyn, to prove the bridge was safe, walked twenty-one of his elephants across with his star Jumbo in the lead. 
It worked, and one of New York’s greatest highlights since. 
Sure hope Jumbo and his pals got a raise.
The original Madison Square Garden stood on the northeast corner of 26th Street and Madison Avenue. It was demolished in 1925 to make way for the New York Life Insurance Company.
A plaque on the front of the building commemorates it.
It was also on its roof where the murder of esteemed architect Stanford White, who designed it, took place, killed by the unhinged, wealthy Henry Thaw for seducing his wife Evelyn Nesbitt when she was just sixteen. 
She admitted to help her husband (but failed to say he constantly beat her), that White deflowered her while she was sleeping.
Wow, that Evelyn must have slept like a rock.
His trial was called the Crime of the Century and Thaw found not guilty by reason of insanity and sentenced to incarceration for life at the Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in Fishkill, New York. 
Thanks to his mother and her fat checkbook, was then retried determined no longer to be insane and set free.
You have to wonder how many palms mom greased in the process.
As far as Evelyn went, her mother knew all about Stannie, as Evelyn called him, and her daughter’s swinging relationship.
He built her one she’d nakedly sway on that apparently tittillated the admired and rather debauched architect.
Mom, after White moved them into a swell apartment upgrading their lifestyle like they won the Belmont Stakes, let’s say became a swinger herself.
We all have a part, as they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, so she knew what was going on, money the great wooer.
I always say, New York City as you walk its streets and avenues has a second heartbeat pulsing beneath one’s feet.
It too woos, if you’ll let it, to want to know more.
SB
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Posted in art, Beauty, Books, Culture, Family, History, humanity, humor, media, modeling, money, New York City, parents, readng, sexual relationships, violence, Women and men, words, writing
Tagged #brooklynbridge, #Chryslerbuilding, #newyorkcityhistory, #stantonwhitemurder, #StatueofLiberty, #washingtonsquarepark
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That’s A Lotta Rott
I met a Rottweiler who despite being the size of a Buick, was as gentle as a baby lamb.
Her name was Carlota.
We were having one of those out of nowhere warm days as if winter got drunk and forgot where it was.
You could hear the collective sigh of relief throughout Central Park.
Carlota and her owner, a jovial middle-aged Latino man with a handlebar mustache, were perched on the Great Lawn like an art installation.
I watched as Carlota let kids play with her. One little boy was lying across her as if she were a big pillow.
“Is she always this gentle?” I asked her master.
“Sei. She loove evdy-bady.”
I liked him instantly, charmed by a sweetness mirroring hers.
I plopped alongside Carlota to give her a good scratch. She was so beautiful with her seal pup eyes pouring into you as if to say,”So nice of you to do that for me.”
Suddenly the mother of the little boy dozing on her flank came to collect him. He howled in protest. Carlota at once became concerned nuzzling him as if he were a puppy.
All I know is if people were as kind and sensitive as animals our world would be a much different place.
After Carlota calmed the little boy down, he let his mom carry him home.
Carlota then looked at me as if to say, “Um, could you scratch me a little more…would ya mind?”
“Mind? It would be my pleasure.” 🙂 
SB
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Posted in animals, Beauty, Culture, Family, friendship, grace, humanity, humor, inspiration, kids, Love, men, nature, New York City, parents, women, writing
Tagged #centralparknyc, #loveofanimals, #rottweilerdogs, #warmerweather
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Marry For Love
I’m not an expert on love by any means, but this is what I know.
If you marry for any other reason, you better be prepared. If you don’t start with that pure feeling you’ll be sorry when you’ll need it the most: him snoring; when she’s grumpy.
When he’s late again you fearing he’s with his young secretary…her off the charts spending you can’t control.
Arguing over your kids or if you stay together long enough, grandkids.
That initial love is the oasis, the home ground you can retreat to.
That memory of your heart pounding when they entered the room.
Don’t ever marry someone only for money. When you have to get drunk to have sex, that’s when you know you’re shopping in the wrong aisle.
Happened to me once. We were both in-between planes, as they say; he a divorce leaving him heartbroken, me heartbroken over a man not getting one after ordering his and hers monogramed towels.
The result?
Two emotional cripples unite for all the wrong reasons…him with lots of money he lavished I’m pretty sure just to spite his ex, while I drank the Kool-Aid till drunk on Prada bags and Burberry raincoats.
I finally left, coming to my senses, exchanging opulence for my self-respect gone missing.
Since then, I look for love the way it should look…pure, honest and true.
Sadly it’s eluded me since then, like a perpetual penance.
But like any trial we survive, what’s left are those hard truths and lofty lessons making us who we are for better or worse.
So, anybody need a raincoat? 
SB
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Sitting On The Met’s Steps
I’m basking in the sun like a lizard in a down coat. It’s chilly, delighted the sun is making an unscheduled appearance.
I haul out my notebook glad I’m wearing fingerless gloves. I buy them in bulk from Amazon because I’m always giving them away.
I’m not alone.
Quite a few people are perched all along the steps like we were placed by a film director. I love watching the young girls take selfies like they’re movie stars.
One Latina has two foot long fake eye lashes, her friend that looks like her sister, a sizable nose ring; they’re wearing very short skirts without stockings and Poodle bomber jackets.
I hear Coco Chanel weep from the ether.
The food carts are all doing great business.
On my left a man eats a bowl of rice and beans from Jose’s Fresh Kitchen that I’m guessing isn’t so fresh, but when you’re hungry and cold, hey, what’s a few expired Garbanzos.
A family of four arrive hurrying up the steps. Another couple linger looking out on Fifth Avenue. It’s worth the pause, watching New York in all her post-holiday splendor.
A police car double-parks. Two cops get out bypassing Jose for two espressos from another vendor. I know what they order because I hear a woman say, “Cha-lie, look, they got espressos.” That’s Cha-lie’s cue to go get her one as he obediently joins the cops who nod before getting back into their heated car.
He comes back with two and a pastry he pulls from his pocket.
Oh, how I love detail.
“Excuse me sir, what kind of pastry is that?” He looks at it. “I dunno…somethin’ with suga on it. She loves suga.”
The woman devilishly grins before taking a huge bite.
“Hmm, it’s so good,” she said, with powdered sugar now on her black leather gloves.
“It should be,” snapped Cha-lie, “it cost enough.”
She then mouths to me, “He’s cheap.” I had to laugh, especially when she asked what was I writing?
If she only knew. 🙂
SB
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Posted in Beauty, creative writing, Culture, dessert, Family, Fashion, food, humanity, humor, inspiration, men, money, nature, New York City, women, Women and men, words, writing
Tagged #metropolitanmuseumofart, #observingyoursurroundings, #touristsnyc, #wintersunshine
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Is Christmas Overrated?
I had a shitty holiday. I’ll just say it. Christmas cheer seemed more manufactured than heartfelt.
The falsity affected me, how it was all forced, from our building’s flat decorations to the workers circling like sharks awaiting their envelopes.
I stayed in a low-grade gloom that wouldn’t lift.
I still sent cards receiving few in return. Just one person sent me one before receiving mine. I had visions of the other six cursing me having to waste postage.
Yeah, I’m aware that it keeps going up, and my repeated litany that life’s short has gotten old, but still feel that way.
We can at least attempt to make an effort.
I think of Caroline Kennedy’s daughter dying at 35 leaving behind two small children who will never know their mother. This is when one’s faith turns to fear realizing, our chronic, complaining self-absorption needs to stop, respecting grace how ever it arrives.
So as I watched the dead poinsettias shoved into huge garbage bags with the wreaths now tossed on the curb, told myself, that even a holiday on speed-dial may be one to treasure.
Who knows if we’ll have another.
Tatiana Schlossberg (1990-2025)
SB
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Posted in Culture, Faith, Family, grace, Gratitude, Health, History, Home, humanity, inspiration, Love, money, nature, New York City, parents, readng, religion, words, writing
Tagged #embracinglife'sgifts, #tatianaschlossberg, #xmas2025
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Thigh Own Self Be True
I spent seven hours in the Emergency Room due to mysterious swelling in my left leg, afraid it was a blood clot.
Have you ever seen a boa constrictor after it’s had its lunch? That’s what my thigh looked like.
Life slows down while anxiously waiting in the company of it at its most fragile.
The things I saw.
A man being resuscitated.
A young pregnant girl crying afraid she’d lose her baby.
A woman whose breasts were so large they didn’t fit in her gown, hanging out both sides. It didn’t stop her though from talking on her phone propped on pillows like she was at a spa.
Then a man was wheeled next to me mooning the whole ER. After the attendant ignored it, covered him up with his coat. And the most amazing part was I knew him. He lives in my neighborhood.
I can surely say, we were both quite happy he wasn’t awake.
While sitting there scared down to the socks they give you, watched all those being brought in, many in dire shape. At one point I helped a nurse calm a frightened woman who could hardly breathe. I rubbed her back while the nurse gave her oxygen.
I clearly saw how lucky to not be in worse shape.
When a young kid came in all beat up, my heart swelled bigger than my thigh. He was a regular, roughed up by his drunken dad his mom refuses to leave.
Lots of gossip to be had in the ER.
Hours later, finally released, so grateful that it wasn’t more serious than it was; an infection already better with antibiotics.
As you age every ailment feels like a gun aimed at your head.
You can’t help thinking, whew, another close call; your
gratitude increases knowing you’ve dodged one more bullet.
I just wish I realized this twenty years ago, that despite numerous trials, how blessed I’ve always been.
SB
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Posted in creative writing, Culture, Faith, Gratitude, Health, humanity, inspiration, New York City, violence, Women and men, words, writing
Tagged #2026, #doctorsER, #graceunderfire, #hospitalERS, #randominfections
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Give Us Our Daily Dread
Starbucks 88th and Third
2 p.m.
BIRR and then some. The cold kept me in until I couldn’t stand it anymore, cabin fever setting in. My plan was to go further than the corner, but the wind talked me out of it.
The place is mobbed, all seats taken, standing room only and that’s taken too. It looks like a coat sale with so many thrown over chairs and stacked in piles. You can’t accuse Starbucks of not having heat.
As I stand in line, a neighbor well ahead of me calls out, asking what I want. It’s nice of her, but know now I’d have to talk to her. She complains a lot despite being blessed with unearned wealth swimming in a trust fund that could fund UNICEF.
For starters, she has three apartments on one floor made into one.
So imagine St. Francis listening to one of the Vanderbilts bitch and moan.
“It’s so awful out. I just hate the east coast. Don’t you?” was her opening line handing me a Grande coffee when I only asked for a Tall. When I hand her money, waves it away, knowing it will still cost me.
“It’s a good thing my fur coats came from storage on time, I mean can you imagine?”
She then starts complaining that our doormen aren’t wearing their hats; something I’m glad of since they look like pilots.
Then, seems her maid, as she calls her live-in housekeeper, forgot to buy fresh bread she specifically asked for, and now wants to fire her.
Maybe it was the cold, or that I was indoors too long, but start to laugh. I mean really laugh to the point where people around me start to laugh too. Has that ever happened to you when laughter becomes contagious?
“What’s so funny?” she asks, which makes me howl more. I try wiggling out of my lack of decorum, but can’t. I guess I’m just sick of the spoiled rich, and to fire someone over bread?
Can you imagine? 🙂
I say to her, “You know, man cannot live by bread alone,” laughing even harder.
She snaps, “What the hell does that mean?”
Another woman pipes in…
(I love this)
“It’s from the Bible.”
Then she looks at me. “Man shall not live by bread alone. You got it a little wrong.”
“Did I?”
And just laughed more. 🙂 
SB
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Posted in creative writing, Culture, humanity, humor, money, New York City, religion, Starbucks, women, words, writing
Tagged #bibleverses, #starbuckscoffee, #theveryrich, #Uppereasidenyc
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Get It Off The Table
Years ago I met a man who taught a course at the New School on procrastination. He was the floor mate of a German designer I modeled for. His name was Daniel. He was the first guy I knew who wore jeans, penny loafers and a navy blazer when it wasn’t the fashion.
The stuff one remembers.
Though I never took his course, he’d slip me pointers whenever we’d meet in the hallway…him taking out trash while I snuck a smoke in my nylon slip.
Don’t allow things to back up, he had said.
If there’s a bill to pay, pay it…if you can’t, make the call so they know you’re working on it; laundry needs folding, fold it. Mail that note, pick up the dry-cleaning; clean as you go.
Get it all off the table.
As young and clueless as I was, his words stuck.
To this day I’m efficient to a fault, often accused of being anal and a candidate for OCD…Obsessive-compulsive disorder.
It’s always from someone who’s the opposite; disorganized, overwhelmed, bogged down with so many untended chores that none get done; the quintessential procrastinator.
In the time it takes to ridicule me, they could be doing a load’a whites.
I have no idea whatever happened to Daniel, but those teachers we encounter past and present leave their mark, as I fill my laundry bag fulla’ whites, getting it off the table. 
🙂
SB
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Posted in creative writing, Culture, Fashion, friendship, Gratitude, History, Home, humanity, humor, inspiration, men, modeling, New York City, readng, Women and men, words, writing
Tagged #beingorganized, #OCD, #teachers, #thenewschoolnyc, procrastination
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A Brand New Year
It’s 12:01, awakened by horns blaring after falling asleep with a book on my lap.
When I looked out my window a group of kids in silver and gold top hats, sold on every corner, were jumping and hugging each other. One held a bottle of what looks like champagne.
Another couple kiss in the moonlight.
It’s like a Parisian painting come to life. The girl even wore a beret.
I prefer being the voyeur rather than a participant observing keenly; like watching a film with the sound turned down.
I’m glad to leave 2025 behind me. It was a year filled with loss and sadness cradled in acceptance to all I could do nothing about; friends leaving, beauty fading, knowing my modeling days are well behind me.
C’est la guerre, such is war, as my former friend Ed would say.
I don’t care for the term…New Year’s Resolution…a firm decision to do something or not to do something.
It always feels as if there’s a .38 pointed to my head since I rarely keep them.
I work better minus pressure, especially from myself.
What I deeply want more than anything is peace of mind wrapped in good health.
I’ve learned without them, nothing else matters.
Often I hear all those no longer here chanting from the ether telling me to not worry over things; to lighten up, to only do what makes me happy, and they would know, wouldn’t they?
So here’s to a happy, healthy, peaceful New Year.
And God bless America who too will hopefully have a happier one.
SB
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Posted in alcohol, art, Beauty, Books, Cinema, Culture, Faith, Fashion, grace, Gratitude, Health, humanity, inspiration, Love, modeling, New York City, Politics, readng, Women and men, words, writing
Tagged #2026, #celebratinganewyear, #godblessamerica, #newyear'sresolutions, #newyearsday
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athingirldotcom 
