oasis for classical musicians seeking inclusivity
My parents do not fry eggs because they prefer the well-doneness of scrambling and boiling. Thus, I was in awe as a teenager when spending the night with a middle-aged couple from church resulted in a fried egg for breakfast. The wife had to go work earlier than the husband, so he was the one… Continue reading The Men Who Fried Eggs
2017 was the first year I did not go to New York City since 2005. When I started graduate school at Stony Brook University on Long Island, I first visited the city to celebrate my birthday...
Taking a photograph is my attempt to capture something that captures me. I accept that not every impression I absorb with my eyes can be captured with a mechanical lens. At some sights, I choose not to take a picture but rather take time to reflect on the force of what I see. My brief… Continue reading Photographers on My Path
One day this week, my music theory students asked if we could have class at an on-campus cafe. Wanting coffee myself, I agreed, and we took our impromptu walk on the first mild afternoon of the semester. Our octet convened around three tables, and we ordered drinks ranging from an earl grey latte to an… Continue reading Once Upon a Fido
A decade ago, a friend at the Blair School of Music suggested I listen to some music by Steve Reich. Kronos Quartet's album, Steve Reich: Different Trains was the first recording of exclusively this composer's music in our library's CD collection that resonated with me. I had become fascinated with the tightness and camaraderie of… Continue reading Dessner Convergence
A year ago, I wrote about deserts of Bed-Stuy as I considered moving to Brooklyn. Since living here, I have made a few discoveries: NYC Green Carts are near bus and subway stops I frequent. I enjoy improvising with, eating, and sharing produce from a CSA. Fresh herbs from volunteering at the Revolutionary Era Garden are a… Continue reading Oases of Bed-Stuy
"Bedford-Stuyvesant is a food desert," someone from Radical Living told me. The closest fresh produce is about a half mile away, an unfair disadvantage for disabled or elderly people desiring this essential fare. For six weeks of my summer sublet on Long Island, I walked half a mile to a farm where I bought locally-grown… Continue reading Deserts of Bed-Stuy
