Keeping promises

Not my experience with Yoga but there were some similarities

With Thanksgiving as a signpost towards Christmas and eventually the New Year, it seems an unlikely day to check off a resolution that I made for 2012. Let’s be honest, who even remembers their New Year’s Resolution by St. Patrick’s Day? A slim few, most have forgotten them before heart-shaped box of candies are swallowed before the Altar of Honey-Boo-Boo but nevertheless, I checked something off my list I thought I’d never do: I participated in a Yoga Class.
“Don’t worry if you can’t do all of the poses, just do what you can,” said my instructor, Theresa Conroy, owner of Yoga On The Ridge.
Conroy, a former Daily News scribe, opened her yoga studio a few years ago. She recently moved its location to Domino La this year. She and some mutual friends had often repeatedly asked me to join in taking the class. I relented until a few days before Thanksgiving when I received Theresa’s Newsletter that offered Thanksgiving Day class for only $10. For $10? Why not? I had nothing else planned except an evening of awkward silences, superficial conversation and moderate gluttony.
Theresa was definitely surprised to see me.
It has been a year of great highs and lows. I had finally overcome seizures that had been plaguing me since the summer of 2011 and therefore received by Driver’s License. I had become gainfully employed again. I had been diagnosed with Sleep Apnea and my therapy had made me more energetic to the point where I try to exercise regularly.  But there are always two sides to every coin. My mother is fighting cancer that has metastasized to her lungs and liver. She had lost an eye to melanoma the previous year. I was also dealing with some more immediate repercussions regarding my own tactless nature that may destroy a friendship. So taking a yoga class couldn’t hurt.
Now, I realize that there are a multiple of Yoga styles. Theresa’s style is “kind of a hybrid--mostly Vinyasa, with a good smattering of Iyengar and Core Strength Vinyasa.” (I don’t know what any of that means either.)
So what is it like to take Theresa’s class? Well, if anyone remembers warm-up stretches before sports practice; it’s kind of like that but in Very, VERY slow motion. The class was heavily attended. I placed my purple mat near the front. I realized that this meant that many in the class would see my posterior (upon which IMAX films could be screened), but I think it sexy enough compared to others that are out there.  My spot was also near a wall. This was advantageous since I am built like a Weeble-Wobble but unlike that particular toy, I will roll over anytime. (And I almost did a couple times.)
While I was taking the yoga class, I noticed how warm the room was but also the calming mix of music was interesting. I often play Genesis when I am relaxing.
I learned holding some of these poses was hard. My arms shook with effort to hold my body up at times. My knees still hurt for a few days afterward. I also learned trying not to look at the curves of soccer moms and dads was even harder. (Note to self: Next time I do yoga, I wear sunglasses.)
Often Theresa would mention “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we are going to…” which I think was an excuse to be easy on us or she just was not fussed on doing her regular poses either; which is naturally understandable since this often a day off for working stiffs (with one or two exceptions).  As an added bonus, she even asked the class to participate in a chant, something she never usually does but since this was Thanksgiving…
During this chant, I devised a theory that the English decided to conquer the Indian subcontinent (and the Welsh) not just for shear spite, gold, glory and in search of sunshine but also that they believed that these cultures used far too many syllables to name things and that was just not cricket.
During the cool down phase, I felt like I melted into the floor. I had never felt so relaxed before.
Theresa read Howard Thurman’s poem, “Blessings At Year End’. A piece of which resonated with my and soothed my disturbed emotions that day:

“I remember the new people I have met, from whom I
Have caught glimpses of the meaning of my own life
and the true character of human dignity.

I remember the dreams that haunted me during the
Year, keeping me ever mindful of goals and hopes
which I did not realize but from which I drew
inspiration to sustain my life and keep steady my
purposes.”

Will I return to the yoga mat for another session? The 2013 resolutions have not been written. We’re waiting for the Mayans to clear their calendar.

Bring the Bento

Last week proved to be interesting. After some more paperwork including a press pass application for the City of Philadelphia and other tax forms, I was out covering stories. This one about the Food Co-Op will hopefully prove to be something big, real big. I often feel cynical about certain initiatives but I really think that this one will be great for the neighbor and has some real momentum.
After that event, I went to Deke's BBQ. You may remember as The Garage, the place where I met the late, lamented Phillies sportscaster Harry Kalas. Tucked away next to the Ugly Moose, off of Shurs La., Deke's serves a filling BBQ menu and a killer Pecan Pie. By sheer luck, I met up with some journalistic colleagues there and had a great time, despite a "hockey" game going on around us.
Speaking of make-overs, I stepped into Dream House Asian Bistro today. New owners took over the old Jade Court last year and realized a overhaul and facelift were long overdue.
Jade Court served mediocre/standard Chinese Takeaway fare. I have only two distinct memories of the joint. Once, in my high school years, my friends and I trekked across a frozen Ridge Ave in a snow storm to satisfy our collect craving for MSG and carbohydrates. We got to the old parking lot on Lyceum Ave. and ate right out of the carton.
My second memory is not so pleasant. My co-worker and I ordered lunch from there once. Neither one of us could come into work the next day for symptoms I refuse to describe here. So I never ordered from there again, despite it being so close to the office.
But sometimes, you got to take the plunge and see if change is for the good.
Immediately, I noticed there was a difference when I ordered. I was informed that lunch was served as a Bento Box and I would receive entree, garden salad, two crab rangoon, 6-piece California Roll, cup of soup and steamed rice.That is what I got. Perfect portion size for the worker on the go and very filling. The Sesame Chicken was standard flavor but not drowning in sauce. The California Roll was also standard but enjoyable. I was a little concerned about mixing hot and cold foods but that is the nature of the box where you are ording as a take out.
A quick glance of the interior showed that the new owners really put the facade of the old Jade Court behind them. There is a whole sushi bar with chef in attendance. But only tomorrow will tell me if their cooking as truly improved...and if I will eat there again. IF all goes well, I'll be sitting in for Bento or Sushi soon.

UPDATE: I survived with any problems, we'll certainly be ordering from Dream House soon.

Photo: Bernard J. Scally

The unsung heroes of Election Day

“Is this where I come to vote?”

This was the most common question asked by voters as they arrived to Bethany Lutheran Church on Martin and Pechin Sts. Many polling places were suddenly changed which may cause a low turn-out election year to sink even lower. My own polling place, where I had been going since I was 18, had been moved one block away.

The City Commissioners in their ‘infinite wisdom’(and are up for re-election) said the changes were due in large part to accommodate handicapped voters under the Americans with Disability Acts regulations, but were only announced two weeks ago without much publicity. I had seen signs in my neighborhood but I was too busy to really pay attention. I never really thought about it until a friend informed me that his polling place had changed. That same day I received a letter in the mail informing me of the change.

In the 21st Ward, where I lived, the local community weekly blamed the Democratic Ward Leader for the fiasco. The man in question, Lou Agre, was stung by the accusation.

“I tried telling them that this decision had nothing to do with me but they wouldn’t listen,” said Agre, who I randomly ran into while on my way to vote. He was checking on campaign and poll workers.

The second most common action taken by campaign workers posted at Bethany Lutheran was directing voters to the correct door to enter to the polls. Many tried to climb stairs that would have lead into the church instead of the basement.

“We should have put an arrow pointing the correct route,” said Paul Kerstetter. “Does anyone have a piece of chalk or something?”

Sadly, no one had a piece but with the lack of turnout; it seemed hardly necessary. Kerstetter was out stumping for the Green Party Candidate of Sheriff, the only non-major party candidate on the ballot. Kerstetter was joined by Bill Morris, who stumped for the Democratic Party, and others.

Despite the diversity of party and viewpoints, there was camaraderie among these people. All were from the neighborhood or near enough. To while away the long hours, since polls opened at 7 a.m. and closed at 8 p.m. , these workers talked amongst themselves discussing candidates in the current race. It was generally agreed that a certain Republican Candidate for City Council At-Large did himself no favors on the way he handled the story of his military service.

But the conversation wasn’t all just politics, sports gave way to general news. It was also generally agreed that the entire administration and athletic staff at Pennsylvania State University should be replaced. (At some point, I’ll speak more on this issue later.)

The English writer Warren Ellis sums up Election Day for me; it makes me “madder than a bastard on Father’s Day.” In all honesty, it was a lot of fun hanging out with these workers today; just regular folks hoping to get the vote out. They were certainly lucky receiving some fine weather…but the only thing would have made it better was a more positive attitude.

“Don’t want your propaganda,” said a moody voter, rushing past the workers.

All you really had to say was, ‘no, thank you.’

For the latest election results, click here