crossthatbridge

Talking Moose Meat

2009-07-18T00:05:00.004-04:00

The Honest Weight Food Coop and the Linda Norris Auditorium (WAMC's Performing Arts Studio) put together a wonderful combination of film and food last night.

A long table was dressed with colorful pint-sized appetizers like blueberries mixed with yogurt, granola and a sprig of fresh mint and wholesome crackers stacked with smoked lox, cream cheese and capers. Deb and I could have made a meal of both had it not been for a pizza slice next door.

Before the show coordinators encouraged an auditorium of about 70 people to jump up during the screening and fill their plates. Even the rows were widened so that people could reach the fresh fruits and veggies comfortably.

The documentary "Eating Alaska," was about a vegetarian who marries and moves to the final frontier and learns to fish, hunt, skin and cook meat. After the 90-minute flick, a panel of 2 Schoharie County farmers and 1 local author answered questions from the audience.

The movie's underlying themes addressed the importance of buying local, consuming less and respecting nature. The story is told through the direction and humor of 48-year old director/producer Ellen Frankenstein. She does a wonderful job portraying diverse female protagonists who advocate for safe, healthy, meaningful, and sustainable food options. Some are vegan, some are vegetarians but most are carnivore who go to great lengths to secure a clean kill of caribou, elk, goat or deer.

There were moments in the film that bugged me like when Frankenstein's self-proclaimed environmental husband Spencer sells Pacific sea cucumbers to Asia for profit or when overweight tenth graders baked fatty pretzels during home-ec. But truthful documentaries need to show conflicting parallels even in the most well-intentioned eco-minded, like Spencer, to understand the complexity of a globalized food industry.

Deb and I left there talking moose meat while enjoying free berries and Saratoga mineral water. The next showing of Food for Thought, an evening of socially relevant cinema is August 20th called "Neighbor by Neighbor."

Housemates Are Like Shooting Stars

2009-07-15T00:02:00.007-04:00

While driving back from NYC I saw a shooting star. It streaked across the sky in a fury with a tail ablaze in an orange and red inferno. Last night's clear skies were perfect for catching a fleeting meteor, comet or asteroid.

While I clocked in at 76 mph, this streak of light was moving faster than the Earth's velocity around the Sun, roughly eighteen miles per second. Sporadic showers are more common between July and December so I keep my eyes pierced for all kinds of celestial debris. Rarely do I see a fireball this close though.

I nearly pulled over when I saw it. It looked as if it was going to crash headfirst into the woods to my right. It lasted more than a second, I'm guessing 5 or 6 seconds. My trusty Nikon sits on the passengers seat waiting for phenomena like this, but had I lunged for it I would have missed the show, or lost control of the lane I was in.

Catching a rare sighting in the vacuous heavens always triggers introspective and reflection during these long and tedious drives back from Manhattan. Mortality is first on the list. Just as ephemeral as this universal fireball so are the lives of family, friends and my fading furry head dog Rocco.

Nobody I know died (thank God) but loosing both my housemates (and good friends) to a house purchase and a job switch this month is nearly as troubling. The obligatory search to fill my home with responsible tenants is a frustrating and daunting challenge. Nearly 10 years of interviewing perspective housemates to live with and you'd think this wouldn't cause so much consternation but sharing space with a stranger is no easy task, at least in the beginning.

If any of my readers are looking to cohabitate with a scruffy Golden and a world traveler in the quiet suburbs of Bethlehem, check out Craigslist and follow up before the end of summer.

Biking the Alcove Reservoir

2009-07-11T21:55:00.008-04:00

Last week Nola took me on a 50-mile bike ride up, down and around Thatcher Park from Selkirk. I've done it before but not with Nola, the Superhuman 63-year old I try and often fail to keep up with.

Today we did more of the same but with a gal by the name of Tess to help lighten the load. We hurried up Route 32, through a detour, past the beginning of the Albany Alcove and finally a swift left onto Henry Road.

That's when traffic eased up and the three of us could easily bike side-by-side at a pace that afforded a conversation. We talked about Lance Armstrong's three week race and all nine grueling stages he and others endure. Given I ride an ancient 15-year old Schwinn Hybrid our rolling route felt like the Pyrenees to me.

Like last Sunday at Thatcher Park, my calves burned, back ached and sweat filled up sunglasses. But complain I didn't dare, not when my attention was diverted away by old beautiful stone homes, working farms, picturesque barns and tall silos. I even caught a glimpse of a historical marker of a fallen Tannery from 1834.

Tess and Nola barely broke a sweat past all this, with their skinny tires and sleek water backpacks.

Newry road lead into Sunset road that lead into the town of Alcove. A little General Store and Post office were our first commercial sightings in 2 hours. Back onto State Route 143 and past a gigantic pool of crystal blue water, the Albany Reservoir we peddled. FYI: In 2007, Albany water won first prize as the best tasting drinking water in New York State.

Desperate for a dip in the Reservoir we wisely agreed not to trigger the authorities and pressed on. Hunger struck and I insisted on stopping and sharing my fruit cup.

2 scaried deer jumped in our path and tore into the woods. On Onesquethaw Creek road a local farm stand was selling freshly picked sweet corn. Nola and I scraped up enough loose change for 2 ears each. Toting my Red Cross backpack wasn't in vain after all.

Next Sunday we'll do the same, another 40-50 miles in an effort to stay in shape and enjoy the Southern Albany region. But beyond everybody's earshot is one hell of a potty-mouth ascending hills with pure dread. By September that better change!

Blistering Ballads on the Hudson

2009-07-10T09:32:00.005-04:00

"To be Irish is to be political!" said Irish Rocker lead singer Larry Kirwan.

His outspoken Celtic band Black 47 played a killer set along the Hudson river at Albany's Alive at 5 yesterday evening. Thousands crowded the lawn and pavilion with blankets and green t-shirts.

I adore Black 47 for their seething political commentary. Their 2008 album "Iraq" are songs in steadfast opposition to the war since before the invasion.

Miho and I waited for our favorites like "James Connolly" or "Funky Ceili" but enjoyed the new stuff like "Downtown Baghdad Blues", "Sadr City," and "Ramadi," an emotional tribute to a young US soldier fighting for his life on the bloody streets but obsessed with his girlfriend's loyalty back in the states.

Inspiration for the play list came from actual stories and interviews with troops returning from duty. In the audience, several fans held up their fists in defiance to Iraq and support of revolution.

“Because of our background, we've always had a strong fan base of right wing cops, firemen and conservatives, as well left wing students, radicals, and the working disaffected; neither side has been afraid to vent its views,” Kirwan said.

Yarn takes Mountain Stage in the Adirondacks

2009-07-09T00:29:00.007-04:00

Newgrass, bluegrass, alt-country, whatever you want to call it, Yarn knows good music. But rather than emerge from Nashville the band was hatched on the crowded streets of Brooklyn 3 years ago. They performed last night at Sheppards Park in Lake George while a bunch of us videotaped the show for a pending tv program.

The weather held off most of the evening but had is poured I doubt anybody would have left. A crowd of about 200 stomped their feet and shook their booty to mandolins, guitars, sax and a wicked percussionists.

A few weeks ago the 7-piece band performed on West Virginia's Mountain Stage radio show with originals from their "Empty Pockets" album. The album features guest appearances by Edie Brickell and Caitlin Cary of Whiskeytown. Check your local NPR station this weekend (July 10th - 12th) and enjoy the all-Americana set.

Keep close tabs on these vocal boys. They won the 7th Annual Independent Music Awards last year and recently were honored with eight first round 2009 GRAMMY® nominations.

Jamming Session with Friends

2009-07-05T01:17:00.000-04:00

To celebrate the 4th, my neighbor, Folk Singer, Gloria Jean and her husband, a Master Craftsman of acoustic guitars, had a party. Nothing fancy, just all the best pickers and grinners from the Capital Region including acoustic bass player, Dick Kniss of "Peter, Paul and Mary."

The eight of them played time-honored favorites by John Denver, Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger. They played outdoors letting the sweet sounds of their talent waft through the woods for others to enjoy. It was magical.

There's something so incredibly soothing listening to custom-built six strings make melodies around a crackling fire. It doesn't matter the mood your in, or even if there are stars in the sky, after listening to happy hippies hug mahogany and rosewood for an hour, all is right with the world. I could have enjoyed the jamming journey all evening.

Gloria's band "All-She-Wrote" has been playing arts and crafts festivals and coffee houses like Caffè Lena in Saratoga Springs since the 1980s. Her tunes can be heard on radio stations and special NPR broadcasts throughout the country.

Toss a Ball, Dunk a Boy

2009-07-04T12:36:00.003-04:00

A neighboring development here in Bethlehem welcomed kids from all over to enjoy July 4th fun while it still stayed sunny this morning. Before the bouncy bounce and climbing wall, kids paraded behind a Delmar Firetruck with ribbons and flags tied to their ten speeds.

Rocco and I were out for our daily walk when we stopped to sniff out a table of painted cupcakes and cookies. Earlier we walked the Delmar Farmers market at the Junior High School in search of ripe tomatoes. At the townhall, Bethlehem officials read a passage from the Declaration of Independence to a small group of boy scouts and nursing home retirees.

So, being back in Suburbia isn't that bad. I keep applying bug spray for no reason and checking for moose in my rear-view mirror. But, it's especially nice to back in the states to celebrate our independence.

The Oldest Female Survivor and More

2009-07-03T21:01:00.008-04:00

And finally...the winners (survivors) of the 11th annual Yukon River Quest.

Mistaken Identity on the YRQ

2009-07-03T13:49:00.003-04:00

These 2 friendly Germans, on holiday until September, shadowed me at the Carmacks resting area during the Yukon River Quest. Their stopping in Carmacks was a very comical misunderstanding.

They had been canoeing the Yukon River with their own canoe and on their own time when they got caught up in the race and were mistaken as a registered team by YRQ officials.

As they paddled closer to the mandatory Carmacks stop, several officials demanded they pull over and register in. Being German, speaking German and not familiar with Yukon rules, they promptly did as they were told. As they were emptying their canoe, not knowing why, one of the support guys asked,

"Hey, what the hell are you guys doing with a fishing pole in your canoe?"

In a broken accent, the younger of the two troubled youths responded, "To catch zee fish vith, Zir." The race official was still confused but hauled their canoe up the hill nevertheless.

Later, much later, the true identity of these 2 hapless Germans was discovered but by then they enjoyed the comforts of a fresh meal, shower and new found friends.

Big Game in the Yukon

2009-07-02T13:44:00.004-04:00

Before I got back from the Yukon the other day I finally got a shot of a Black Bear. He lumbered across Route 2 on my way back from Dawson City to Whitehorse. He or she was in no hurry to get to the other side and stopped to look back at us once or twice.

I was hoping for a Grizzly, the bigger and scarier of the two, but I'm delighted with this big fellow. Earlier I missed a shot at a moose that high-tailed it into the dense bush before I could grab my Nikon.

Other wild animals in the Yukon include caribou, elk, mountain goat and sheep, bison, wolf, mule deer, polar bear, muskox and cougar. Most of these animals, wisely, stay away from the limited number of roads in the Yukon.

The YRQ, From Respite to Rapids

2009-06-30T21:38:00.006-04:00

After paddling 200 miles the YRQ teams are mandated to stop in the village of Carmacks for a 7 hour respite. Carmacks is named for George Carmack, the prospector who first discovered gold in the Dawson region in 1896 triggering the Klondike Gold Rush.

Teams sleep in tents in a designated 'Quiet Zones', shower, eat and then ship off again for the Five Finger Rapids. Some have been paddling in their canoes and kayaks for more than 30 hours. Their legs feel like butter, their eyes bloodshot, their skin raw and red from mosquito bites. Still, having already accomplished nearly half the trip nobody dares drop out now.

Finishing the YRQ, Not for the Faint of Heart

2009-06-29T20:54:00.009-04:00

"We sprinted for the last 40 minutes. I sure hope we broke the record!" said the exhausted Liz and Veronica of the "Dawson before Dusk" team. Indeed they did.

The two 40-something year old's barreled over the finish line in under 49 hours winning them a total of $1100. Not a huge amount of trophy winnings but money isn't suppose to be the incentive, rather it's the bragging rights.

"It's the human spirit that propels you. The human spirit is what got us here," said Liz.

The 11th annual 2009 Canoe and Kayak River Quest Race on the Yukon River is officially over. 73 teams started the race on Wednesday and 56 finished, the last champ being solo kayaker David Peters. He struggled in at over 60 hours of paddling but completed all 460 miles, a feat few can brag about.

Others like Ingrid Wilcox from Germany and Heinz Rodinger from Austria, both in their 60's, proved that willpower and endurance have more to do with finishing than age. Both smiled big for the cameras and lifted their paddles in joy as a bullhorn whistle cracked the air. Dozens of friends and family cheered in support of their perseverance and bravery.

Some racers spend a year or more in training. They scout the terrain with GPS systems, draw up fancy maps, hit the gym for hours and stock up on high protein energy bars. But the key to success really is picking a teammate you can trust, communicate and survive hellish conditions with. A teammate strong enough to endure heavy storms, bug bites and white water rapids.

A cold, wet and windy night cramped tightly in a narrow kayak can kill the spirit in no time. That's why it helps to have a teammate who can respond quickly to not only physical setbacks but mental too.

Teams like "London Pride", a voyager canoe of 7 guys from the UK know that only too well. They had to dock for 3 hours while one of their souls recovered from hypothermia and dysentery in the middle of the night. They refused defeat though making it across the finish line in 18th place.

Sonja and the Sourtoe Cocktail

2009-06-29T20:35:00.002-04:00

Beauty and the Beast

2009-06-28T14:39:00.003-04:00

Courtesy of a 5-mile drive up Midnight Dome Mountain I was able to gather several sweeping vistas of the Klondike Valley and Dawson City. The weather was perfect for shooting scenery yesterday...as well as me popping a Yukon Jack with a dead toe floating on the edge of the glass. But more on that later...

Home of Brothels and Bar Drinks with Digits

2009-06-27T16:37:00.007-04:00

"What's done in Dawson City stays in Dawson City," say the locals. We'll see about that after tonight when Allison and me toss back a Sourtoe Coctail, a Dawson City tradition in the heart of Klondike Country.

Yes, a real once-living human toe! The macabre concoction is served at the Sourdough Saloon most famous for this drink garnished with a severed appendage.

Sourdough was the name given to early gold miners who survived the Canadian sub-Arctic temperatures during the winter. The story goes that one of the early gold miners was bootlegging booze from Yukon to Alaska during the prohibition and froze his big toe. With no doctors available, his brother amputated it and preserved it in alcohol. The toe was never reconnected to the foot but stuck in a pickle jar and forgotten about.

Over 40 years later a crafty entrepreneur by the name of Dick Stevenson bought the brothers cabin and found the toe. As a grisly joke he dipped the toe in a cocktail and named the drink 'Sourtoe'. The popularity caught on and now over 24 thousand locals and tourists can claim they tasted feet.

Unfortunately the first toe has long since been swallowed. A rowdy intoxicated fellow fell backwards off his bar stool, bumped his head and swallowed it. But replacement toes are donated by amputees and accident victims all the time so the legend carries on.

Honestly, I can't make this stuff up. It's Yukon and anything goes, including Allison, myself and Marcia kicking up our heals in front of the oldest brothel house in the Yukon. Still bearing the name of its former Madam, Bombay Peggy's is a building with secrets like none other.

Dawson City Defenders

2009-06-27T11:33:00.006-04:00

And the winners are.... a 6 person team by the name of The Texans with a modified canoe with pizza slices and granola bars taped to the inside. These boys really knew how to prepare a canoe. They used tubes and filters to suck in high protein liquids with electrolytes, minerals and vitamins.

Because it never really gets completely dark here I was able to hang off the cliffs videotaping canoes and kayaks weaving and bobbing around eddies and hooks on the rapids. One 8-member team by the name of the Loonies (they're from Canada) took in tons of water smashing through the torrent, so much so they had to dock for an hour and clean out their canoe.

Just a few minutes ago I shot them passing the finishing line in modest time. They were completely and totally exhausted... after all, who isn't after 460 miles?

But more on the winners with videos and photos in a minute, I'm missing out on all the fun...

The Bard of the Yukon

2009-06-25T09:51:00.004-04:00

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

My introduction to Lake Lebarge was through this spooky poem by Canadian poet Robert Service read to me by our safety boatman Mark. Scratch that - he didn't read it, he recited it from memory along with other ballads like "The Spell of the Yukon" and "The Call of the Wild." Mark doesn't like poetry but you wouldn't know it from the way he pours through repetition, verse form and rhyme.

All of Service's stuff is filled with sensory stimuli with twisty endings so it was fitting that Mark should open with The Cremation of Sam McGee. It got us all thinking about derelict boats like 'Alice May' that comb the shores of Laberge, a lake well over 500 feet deep.

But we weren't boating for Arctic Greyling, Pike or Lake Trout we needed to catch up with the fearless Yukon River Quest people for stories. We found them on the opposite end of the lake paddling like crazy and breathing hard.

Solo Texan favorite Brad Pennington was still in the top 5 spot shadowing a Voyageur canoe of 8 strong bears from Saskatchewan. He held his position neck-and-neck with Great Britain Shaun Thrower who humorously but apty named his kayak Numbnuts.

We said hello and cheered them on but all were so consumed with maintaining position they grunted past with not so much as a crooked grin.

Away we went to find the women and men competing for fun rather than fortunes. Our poet laureate Mark has a surprise in mind. We found a team of 9 thirsty gals huffing and puffing with a look of craving for coffee in their eyes. We pulled up alongside Team Whoa, 9 gals between the ages of 24 and 50.

Mark stretched out his arm and offered them a cup of fresh brewed Tim Horton's. They nearly fell out of their boat in gratitude. It was 7pm, only 7 hours into the race but caffeine gave them the boost they needed to carry on.

Yukon Insomnia

2009-06-24T13:00:00.003-04:00

It was 8:30pm last night when I finally touched down in WhiteHorse, Yukon, but by the placement of the sun you would have thought it was 3 in the afternoon. Jim, my all-knowing travel guide, quickly handed me a pair of dark sunglasses which I donned until almost midnight. Not having any darkness, no stars or moon to orient day from night really throws your equilibrium off.

And try as might to sleep, cracks of sun kept creeping in through my hotel blinds and a constant stream of commotion left me looking like an insomniac this morning. No matter I had tons of work to do before the noon race today.

I interviewed teams from Venezuela, England, Austria, Maine, Alaska, Oregon and throughout Canada. The oldest competitor is Fritz, 69 years and prepping for his 7th consecutive race.

All have Powerbars, Gatorade, sunblock, Deet and extra socks stuffed inside waterproof pockets in the crevices of their canoes and kayaks. All are expecting sore backsides, blisters on both hands and no sleep for 72 hours. All are excited, anxious and anticipate sweet victory come Friday evening.

Brew with a View

2009-06-24T09:54:00.002-04:00

Before I go onto describing my first night in the Yukon let me wrap up my whirlwind tour of Vancouver.

So, I saved the best for last during my sprint around the city. It took a hot dog sales lady at Stanley Park to inform me that the reason I couldn't find any fish tacos in Vancouver was because there weren't any.

"Just because it's the West Coast doesn't mean we sell fish tacos like San Diego," she laughed. So since I wasn't likely to find my typical tilapia fare she encouraged me to discover a fisherman's wharf called Granville Island for other options.

"Chug a brew at Dockside for me," she chimed as I ran for another cab to rush me there.

By car I left the city limits by crossing over a soaring eight-lane bridge and circling around underneath huge trestles to find it. Walking all day had worked up a mighty big appetite so I had doubts I'd be on time for my last flight to the Yukon.

A big glowing sign hung from the bridge crossbeams welcoming me to the public market. There I found hundreds of permanent and temporary vendors selling an infinite variety of delicacies. I could have wandered the stalls picking at seafood all day here. Jammed with craft shops, artist galleries and studios, colorful warehouses and even a cement factory I had found market utopia.

Once a declining industrial site the place now boasts people-friendly venues while maintaining its faded luster. I never did find a vendor selling fish tacos but I scored nonetheless filling up on free tastings of Japanese eggplant, fresh boiled bagels and a plateful of stuffed pierogi topped with fried onions.

It's a good thing my flight was delayed by 30 minutes.

Vancouver in 3 Hours

2009-06-23T19:38:00.003-04:00

At breakneck speed I just spent 3 feverish hours exploring Vancouver on foot before the last leg of my trip to the Yukon. Who says seeing a city can't be done in one day? I bagged my luggage at the airport and snagged the first cab I could find.

"Step on it, Cabbie, I've got a city to catch!" I yelled and away we flew.

The journey started at Canada Place, on the wharf, buzzing along the boardwalk with my Nikkon clicking away like crazy.

Following that I trolled through the historical streets of GasTown past a brewing company, shops filled with maple syrup delights, the world's first steam-powered clock and wrapping back at the Old Spaghetti Warehouse. A sign for 'Blood Alley Square' got me thinking twice about continuing into the seedier side of GasTown.

So, I switched gears and headed up to Pacific Center gazing at the silver-mirrored skyscrapers and Yale Town condos.

But Burrard Inlet called me back to the promenade with hundreds of yachts and cruise lines posing for pictures. Onward I marched in step with the hundreds of happy locals running, biking and strolling the shoreline. Into famous Stanley Park with horse-drawn carriages and an aquarium deep in the heart of Vancouver's evergreen oasis.

Majestic cedar, hemlock and fir trees abound, I so wish I could have stayed longer.

A 10 minute taxi cab later, I ended my journey at Granville Island... and that's when the real excitement began. More to share after my flight to Yukon...gotta run!

The Call of the Wild

2009-06-22T13:09:00.003-04:00

In the morning I'm off to prospect in the vast Canadian province of Yukon. It's an early flight with 4 legs in 4 cities but by evening, I should be settling in for the night in the heart of Klondike land.

But it's not gold that I'll be chasing, rather the anticipated winner of the longest canoe and kayak race in the world at the annual Yukon River Quest. The 460-mile route retraces the historic gold rush route from Whitehorse to Dawson City and this year 79 teams from all over the world are competing.

The race kicks off this Wednesday morning racing under a midnight sun that never sets. The Yukon river can exceed two-miles in width and the current varies dramatically depending on the route. Paddlers can expect to maintain a stroke rate of nearly 75 per minute or fall behind quickly. This is not a race for novices.

Light chop, strong headwinds and even white water rapids make up this wilderness experience of a lifetime. Past winners like solo kayak competitor Brad Pennington want not only to win this year but to break the 24-hour paddling world record.

Will he do it? Check back often to find out...

Fighting Fires in Lancaster

2009-06-20T23:16:00.011-04:00

30 minutes west of Buffalo, in the quiet town of Lancaster, NY is a fairly new firemen's museum built in large part by the volunteers of the community.

"Firemen are a special breed of persons uniquely dedicated to the people they serve," says Richard Young, President of a tool mounting company called PAC, Performance Advantage Company. PAC is located right below the museum.

Mr. Young or 'The Doctor' as he likes to be called comes from a long line of firemen. His father's father was a fireman, as seen here on the far right of the photo as was his great grandfather.

PAC sells fastening hook locks, brackets and mounts that help secure pick axes, sledgehammers, shovels and fire extinguishers to the sides of fire trucks, EMS rescue vehicles, even military transports.

Mr. Young's lifetime of work has helped save lives, both victims of fires and firemen themselves. Inside the museum is 200-plus years of the evolution of uniforms, apparatus, pumps, ladders, hoses and vehicles, most of which a Young descendant helped invent. Black and white photos of firemen tell stories of courage and dedication.

This is a must-see when your in the neighborhood of Lancaster, NY.

Stories of Survival and Faith

2009-06-18T09:00:00.010-04:00

Almost half of all homeless youth between the ages of 16-23 years old identify themselves as LGBTQ; lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or queer. Studies estimate that as many as 10,000 LGBTQ youth are homeless in New York City. It's a epidemic that keeps rising along with suicide rates and HIV transmission.

Homeless LBGTQ outcasts from all over America escape to New York City in search of acceptance and equality. In a city with endless diversity and tolerance you'd think they'd find it. But, they don't. Rather their dreams of wanting to be treated "normal" end in high drug use, sex slavery and even suicide.

They walk the city's dirty streets desperate for food, shelter, guidance and companionship. Many have physical, mental and psychological scars from harassment and abuse(s) stemming from "coming out." Their stories are sad, terrifying, brutal and absolutely real.

Tuesday was my day to interview dozens of lonesome but courageous young people wanting to be a part of a documentary about Sylvia's Place. Named after civil rights activist Sylvia Rivera, young people lined up for hours in front of the shelter, waiting to share tales of their dark world.

Sylvia's Place is the one of four emergency over-night shelters in NYC for LBGTQ youths. It provides a safe place to sleep, a good meal, a cot for the night and breakfast in the morning. The care workers also provide a listening ear, affirmation and a friendly voice of encouragement. It's located in Hell's Kitchen, part of the Metropolitan Community Church of New York, a spiritual space that ministers to all walks of the rainbow.

My producer and I set up our camera in front of 3 beautiful stained glass windows near a small altar and worship table. Our first interview was with a transgender that goes by the name London. He wore long lashes, a wavy shoulder-length wig and pretty librarian glasses.

"People say it's a choice to be gay. I didn't chose to be this way, because, honestly, in this world, if I had a choice, I would chose to be straight. Knowing that I'm going to be treated like a piece of shit, why would I choose this?"

Later, a gay man with a blue frock and bald head told of a graphic experience living in Alabama.

"I was raped. I'll never forget it. I was raped by 5 white guys in Alabama. They took turns, all 5 of them, they took turns." --- long pause and more description --- "3 months later I found out I was positive."

And the interviews continued long into the evening, with dozens more waiting their turn at shedding their inner fears. For many young people it was cathartic, as if telling about the horrors of being 'different' would hopefully change perceptions. We assured them that that was one of our goals.

Not unusual, nearly all homeless youth come from extremely devout Christian families that force them out because of their sexuality. But despite an intolerant religion that condemns them to a life on the streets they somehow maintain their faith and belief in God.

For more information on Sylvia's Place check out a book of photographs called “Shelter" by 28-year-old Lucky Michaels, also the Program Director at the shelter. His photos detail how cramped and uncomfortable the shelter is with only twenty-five rustic cots and limited floor space in one cluttered room.

The shelter does what it can but it's not nearly enough or nearly well-enough funded to cope with this growing epidemic. Still it's a spiritual refuge that offers more than most, without fear of condemnation or discrimination.

50 Years of Parish Life

2009-06-17T13:49:00.004-04:00

The Cathedral of Mary Our Queen in Baltimore, Maryland is celebrating a half a century of faith, service and community this October. Most would guess her age at between 200 and 300 years but she's only 50 years young.

Like being baptised, when the Cathedral was consecrated, a strict purification mixture of water, salt, ash and wine were tossed at the altar, walls and floor. A few years later even Pope John Paul II made a pilgrimmage to see her.

A happy group of Filipinos with still cameras hopped out of a rented vehicle as we were shooting exteriors of the church. People from all over the world, not necessarily just Catholics, come to marvel at the timeless beauty and grace of this contemporary Gothic structure.

Diana of the Faithful Traveler feels it also has a late period Art Deco feel. I can see that, it's built of limestone with a pop and post-modern architectural design and style. It was an absolute treat to work here on Monday.

Variety is the Spice of Life

2009-06-14T12:53:00.002-04:00

Wow, who knew grocery stores would stir up so many emotions, some even downright hostile? Thanks for everyone's input but I'm not interested in generating controversy and bitterness.

I'm merely pointing out observations and opinions based on my experiences. PriceChopper, Hannaford and Aldi are fine grocery stores run by highly successful business folks who, admirably, go the extra mile to help local charities and not-for-profits. That is not to be disputed.

PriceChopper, Hannaford and Aldi also carry both the basics and specialty items at reasonable prices in clean shops with courteous cashiers. Again, I'm not disputing their quality or quantity.

But Wegmans is a mecca for brands and choices few have ever heard of or tried and for most it's a thrill seeing that much variety. And, like all the countries I visit and write about, being inside Wegmans was akin to flying to a foreign land.

But don't take my word for it, head west to Syracuse and see for yourself.