Big Apple Bern

It was nearly 20 years ago, when I walked into the third floor Kearney Square Lowell office of Congressman Marty Meehan, and officially met the bombastic woman from Budapest, Bernadett Vajda.  For years previously, I had worked fairly regularly with her sister, Estzer, who was a reporter for local news radio WCAP.  Estzer would call me daily in my gig at the Lowell Police Department, looking for the news of the day.

After my first official intro to Bern, we would then spend two years working side-by-side, helping navigate the daily tasks of a congressional office.  The stretch of time was particularly unique, coming as it did in the months after the attacks on our country on 9/11.  One of the tasks Bern and I worked together on was helping Congressman Meehan stay connected to the families of the victims from the Greater Lowell area who lost their lives on September 11.

Along with our fellow district staffers - Lori Loureiro (now CONGRESSWOMAN Lori Trahan), Sara Khun, June Black, Chris Doherty, Benari Poulten, Zoila Gomez, Emily Byrne, and our counterparts in the D.C. Office, Bill McCann, Shilpa Phadke, Jen Staruski, Ron Carlton, and Suzy Dumont, among others, it was a usually well-oiled machine that bonded closely in the trenches of congressional office work.

But eventually, the team went its separate ways, with most everyone pursuing new careers paths.

For her part, Bernadett decided to make the move to the Big Apple, and pursue the career in modeling she had always longed for.  Almost immediately she carved out a niche for herself in NYC, and those of us who knew her got a big kick out of following her exploits, especially when she walked the fashion runway on a morning talk show.

In the ensuing years, whenever the Cook family made our Christmastime pilgrimage to New York, we'd always connect with Bern, and she would help stage our stylish Christmas card pose for the coming season.  She rode the ferris wheel with the kids in Toys R Us in Times Square, played the floor piano and had disgustingly gluttonous ice cream sundaes at FAO Schwarz with them, and loved to point out her favorite haunts.  For Heather, especially, Bern became her go-to super-model who offered her fashion and self-esteem tips.  Once for Andrew, Bern played the role of show-and-tell prop for his school project on Hungary.  He's still steaming over the fact he got a B on the project.  "I BROUGHT A FREAKING ACTUAL PERSON FROM HUNGARY IN AND SHE BROUGHT HUNGARIAN COOKIES," he frequently bemoans.

Bern is one of those friends you don't have to see to constantly stay close to, but you know she's always there.  And invariably, when our names pop up on cell phone caller-ID, it's usually a must answer, because there's usually a laugh to be shared on the call.

When she comes back to town, it sometimes even warrants a Wicked Good Blog post: 2012

Fast forward to 2020 and the new normal that has become living in quarantine in America.  Here in the Mill City, we have the ability to roam the streets and not bump into many other folks during our travels.  Not so in the Big Apple.

Bern and I have been chatting through the COVID-19 crisis, and she's been especially active on her social media accounts, trying to show how life has changed for her in NYC.  This week, she reduced those thoughts to words, and submitted a first person account of New York quarantine, and the results ended up on page one of the Lowell Sun, seen here:  Bernadett

Bern agreed to let me share her post here as well, to share not just her story, but several more pics showing what life is like in New York these days.  I was more than happy to comply.

So without further ado, here's a first-person account of living in the Big Apple during a time of Coronavirus, courtesy of my bud from Budapest, Bernadett!







By BERNADETT VAJDA

For me, this is day 34 of my self-quarantine in my small New York City apartment.  The apartment is the perfect size for one person.

Were this a normal day, I would be dressing for my two careers – as the business owner of Bern With Style, an image consulting business, or when I’m not styling my clients, I am off and running to castings and auditions as a model.

Most mornings, I leave my apartment early to go work out at the gym, then run, home for a shower to get ready for work.  What follows is a five-minute walk to the subway and my morning commute, normally surrounded by dozens and dozens of fellow New Yorkers.

Lunch usually consists of a walk to my favorite salad spots, where I stand and check out what people are wearing, noticing the latest fashion trends and styles of my fellow residents.

Dinnertime would consist of a social event, at a popular restaurant, a fund-raiser, or a business meeting.  Most of the meals are partaken out on the town.

Now, though?  Nothing could be further from my normal routine.  I am quarantined in my own apartment, taking in the sights of New York that I can take in from my window.  The bone-chilling sounds of ambulances driving to and fro to the neighborhood hospital provide the constant cacophony of sirens that have become commonplace for me.

The NYPD barricade surrounding Bern's neighborhood hospital

It all started to change for me on February 27.  I snapped a photo on the border of the lower east side and Chinatown, just after leaving a modeling audition.  I called my mom, Clara, in Andover, to tell her about the audition, but the vibe in the air around me was different.  Restaurants and storefronts were empty.  On the phone with my mom, I told her people looked frantic, nervous, and clearly unsettled about a change in the atmosphere.

My sister, Eszter, a former radio personality on WCAP 980 in Lowell, lives in Sicily, Italy, and had already been in lockdown for weeks.  I got on the phone with her to seek her advice, and it was clear what was happening.

COVID-19 was coming to my New York City.

My sister spent an extensive time prepping me, trying to tell me what types of items I needed to get in stock in the virtually guaranteed eventuality of a coronavirus mandated home quarantine.   We shared long distance tears knowing our worlds were changing, and not for the better.

Eszter began sharing stories of what life was like now in Italy, and we both cried as we realized the same pandemic was coming to the Big Apple, the heart of the USA, and the place I’ve called home for more than 15 years.  It was then I began my first grocery runs to stock up.

Even during normal times, grocery shopping in New York City is a burdensome chore, especially when you don’t have a car.  The constant struggle always, is deciding what types of groceries you want to haul home – canned goods, water, fruits and vegetables and cleaning supplies are heavy on our best days.

With my first supply runs during the pandemic, returning home and climbing my staircases with the heavy bags, it hit me, and the tears came again.

Entering my apartment, wiping all the groceries down with Lysol wipes and putting them away, knowing I would not be able to come and go freely on continued groceries bore down heavily on me.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am fortunate, in that I have a roof over my head and food in my refrigerator.  But being a business owner, single and navigating the streets of one of the busiest cities in America is daunting.

Since my quarantine began, I have tried to maintain my own schedule to help me feel well.  I still have my coffee in the morning, followed by a meditation.  One of the other highlights of my days has become a morning video yoga routine with one of my best friends, Dr. Cynthia Davis of Wakefield, Mass.  She helps hold me accountable to show up for both myself and her during this time.

Now though, my days also start with updates from Governor Cuomo, and periodic check-ins on the television news.  And of, course, phone check-ins with my mom and sister.

I shower and get ready for my day.  I’ve taken to regular applications of red lipstick, because I like the way it looks during these trying days.

In addition to continuing to work with my clients in image consulting, the other top highlight of my days has become clapping for those people working on our front lines during this crisis.

Every night, promptly at 7 p.m., I run to my kitchen grab a wooden spoon and pan, open my window, and starting banging on my drum, screaming out my window with the rest of New York City as we clap for those doctors, nurses, health care workers, first responders, and store employees who continue to perform their jobs so the rest of us can survive.   To me, they are more than heroes.  Imagine walking into work every day knowing you may be the next patient. There should be a new word for heroism. The faces of hospital workers I see walking to and from the subway each day going to their shifts will haunt me for a long time.

Occasionally, I still venture out to my local market, but what was once a quick stop has now become a longer process, as I have to wait in line to get into the store.

I miss my weekend walks in Central Park.  I miss meeting my friends for lunches, or coffees, or cocktails.

From experience, I have learned that as horrific as this time is for many, if we make the right choices physically and mentally, in the end we will be stronger, wiser and have a deeper understanding of ourselves and a gratitude for the simple things in life.

I miss my everything bagels.  I miss the smell of street vendors.  I miss seeing the latest fashion trends walk by me.  I even miss the subway entertainment.

Most of all, I miss my friends and family.  I miss returning to Massachusetts for special occasions.   I miss human contact.

I know it will be back.  I know we will eventually recover.  I know we will be stronger.  I know I am inspired.  But still, I miss my New York City.

Atlantic Currents: A Cook Goes to Cork

More than 75 years ago, my mother, Marie, a young 16-year-old, took to the stage at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium on East Merrimack Street to sing alongside dozens of her friends, and at one point in the ensuing years, famed crooner Danny Thomas.

A member of the parish of St. Peter's Church on Gorham Street, my mom joined local radio program the Cathedral Hour and became a member of the Christian Doctrine Choristers.  The group would perform in semi-annual shows from 1945 through the mid 1950s.

Post World War II, the Choristers performed a concert at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium to honor the 441 Lowell heroes of World War II, one of whom was my uncle, Gerald, who was killed in action in WWII.  Gerald was the older brother of my father, Jimmy, who Marie would marry a few years later, in 1951.

I've blogged about the Choristers previously, and pics from their performances as well as a list of names of others local members of the group can be found here:  Choristers

So why resurrect the tale of my mom's brief, albeit unforgettable-for-her 1940s singing career now, whilst our country battles back the most insidious virus that any of us have seen in our lifetimes?

Because the tale of Marie Cook and her fellow Choristers is one of nearly 100 poems, essays, or short stories in Atlantic Currents: Connecting Cork and Lowell, a collection spotlighting 65 writers from and around the Mill City.  And if folks are looking for an entertaining read to help pass social distancing time being spent in their homes, this fits the bill quite nicely.

To say I'm honored to be numbered among the ranks of the other accomplished authors in the tome would be a gross understatement.  I offer my thanks to Paul Marion and John Wooding, who reached out to me to make a submission and stand alongside fellow writers doing our best to chronicle a piece of the Mill City's history and legacy.

I'm honored also, that a tale chronicling my mom's youth was the piece that was selected, helping keep alive a chunk of Lowell history all but forgotten with the dissolution of St. Peter's parish, and the passing of the generation who helped shape Lowell through the majority of the 20th century.

A little more insight into the collection, comes via the back cover copy of Atlantic Currents: "Connecting Cork and Lowell brings together sixty-five writers from both sides of the Atlantic Ocean whose stories, poems, essays, songs and parts of novels come to us in familiar voices.  While we recognize the sound and sense in these works because of the well-traveled routes between Ireland and America, there is much to discover in today's writing from both places.  Complex relationships, sublime joy found in small and large matters, destabilizing external forces, a hunger for harmony, loss in its many forms, snares of history, transcendent moments in special locations, the simple attempt to get through "it all" every day - readers will find all this and more."

The copy continues: "Spurred by a desire to make a sturdy bond between two historic cities whose modern resurgence has been driven in large part by commitments to lifelong experiential learning, the organizers of Cork Learning City and Lowell: City of Learning began collaborating in the spirit of UNESCO's Learning Cities network.  With this anthology, the connecting thread is made stronger through the now entwined writing and reading in both places."

The local book launch was scheduled for this weekend, but alas, was another casualty of the COVID-19 pandemic.  No doubt, it'll be back on the schedule as soon as the crisis abates, and I'm certain many of the talented writers featured in the book will be only too happy to celebrate the end of isolation and the value of having so many talented local writers.

For details on how to purchase your own copy, check out Loom Press' website here:  Loom Press

It's the perfect book to help pass the time of this seemingly-interminable quarantine, but it's also a magnificent opportunity to support and celebrate local authors and celebrate the lifelines between Lowell and Cork.

Slainte!

Train-ing Run

Running during a time of coronavirus has become an interesting challenge.

On the one hand, there's an abundance of facts and findings that continuing to exercise, maintaining your health, and breaking the monotony of home-bound activities is critical to your well-being.

And then there's that social distancing thing, maintaining your six feet of space between one another, which is critical to all of us beating back this pandemic.

Luckily, the great outdoors lends itself quite nicely to fill both those requirements.

This morning, the E Streeters proper took to the lesser-populated trails and roadways of Westford to log some decent mileage, take in the sights of the always-pleasurable East Boston Camp trails, and at the same time, do our part to stay healthy and keep one another healthy while doing so.

Today's run provided quite a bit of training.  Both physically, and literally.

People starving and thirsting, grain elevators are bursting

Oh, you know it costs more to store the food than it do to give it

They say lose your inhibitions, follow your own ambitions

They talk about a life of brotherly love

Show me someone who knows how to live it

There's a slow, slow train comin' up around the bend

- Bob Dylan, Slow Train

Now I swing a sledge hammer on a railroad gang
Knocking down them cross ties, working in the rain
Now don't it feel like you're a rider on a downbound train

- Bruce Springsteen, Downbound Train

It's all well and good until a train comes along and makes you detour your running course

Well, the only thing that makes me laugh again
Is a southbound whistle on a southbound train
Every place I want to go
I never can go, because you know
I got the freight train blues
Oh Lord mama, I got them in the bottom of my rambling shoes

- Bob Dylan, Freight Train Blues

Out of my brain on the train
Out of my brain on the train, on the train, out of my brain
Woo
Out of my brain on the train
Here it comes
Woo
Out of my brain on the train, on the train
Out of my brain on the train
Why should I care?
Why should I care

The Who, 5:15

Father son, running down the tracks

This train carries saints and sinners

This train carries losers and winners

This train carries whores and gamblers

This train carries lost souls

I said, this train carries broken-hearted

This train thieves and sweet souls departed

This train carries fools and kings

This train, all aboard

I said, this train dreams will not be thwarted

This train faith will be rewarded

This train hear the steel wheels singin'

This train bells of freedom ringin'

- Bruce Springsteen, Land of Hope and Dreams

Andrew found himself waist deep in the Big Muddy at one point of this adventure

Six more weeks of winter on the way for Westford

All about them as they lay hung the darkness, hollow and immense, and they were oppressed by the loneliness and vastness of the dolven halls and endlessly branching stairs and passages. The wildest imaginings that dark rumour had ever suggested to the hobbits fell short of the actual dread and wonder of Moria."

 J. R. R. Tolkien, the Fellowship of the Ring

Andrew is on the lookout for orcs.

With the heavy rains of the past few days, it made for some interesting stream and brook crossings during our wanderings.

Luckily, John stood ready to capture said crossings on film, just in case someone happened to fall in.

Carlos and Tommy took the lead to make sure the bridge would hold

20 years of running the rivah prepped Scott for any wet conditions

Barry thought it would be good to use a staff for balance.  Unfortunately, his rod came up short.

You shall not pass!

- Gandalf the Grey

Andrew?  He was all in, sprinting across 

By now, most everyone has seen the famous picture of Bigfoot, captured on film decades ago.

This day, we were able to catch him crossing a stream in Westford.

That's him, way off in the distance in the neon yellow running jacket.

Hoping this blog post finds you and all of your loved ones well during these tumultuous times.

Rest assured, my fellow E Streeters and I maintained our social distancing throughout the run.

We were also hyper cognizant to keep safe distance from the dog walkers we came across during our run.

It was heartening to see so many folks still getting out there for some exercise during these trying times.

Stay hard, stay hungry, stay alive, everyone.

This train is bound for glory, this train.

This train is bound for glory, this train.

This train is bound for glory,

Don't carry nothing but the righteous and the holy.

This train is bound for glory, this train.

- Woody Guthrie, This Train is Bound for Glory