The Maroon Vol. 2… No. 59 Tuesday, August 2, 2022
“Bringing us all to a place we don't want to lose."
Observer: The Scrapbook Of The Mind
Macky’s New York: The Sound Of Sneakers
William Peay: Tales From The Wood…
RHS Athletic Hall Of Fame: Save The Date: Nov. 5th 2022
M + A NYC: Mighty Are We As One
Jim Schoneman: Rock Hound
Daniel Hill: Social Media Strategist
Kathy & Ross Petras: You’re Saying It Wrong
Observer
The Scrapbook Of The Mind
Turning the pages of the scrapbook of my mind, I look for a younger version of myself in hopes of finding a topic to write about. The poet W.B. Yeats in his poem The Circus Animals’ Desertion referred to this as “The Rag And Bone Shop Of The Heart.”
Yeats reminds me that good times can appear unannounced and bring a smile to your face when you least expect it. Like when I recall those Cross Country races in high school. Before every race it was the custom to jog the course with our opponent. Our home course featured a run through the sand at Graydon Pool. This marked the half way point of these 3 mile races.
Now we never actually jogged with our opponents on the sand before the race, only waving at it as we passed by. If we had jogged the sand they would have figured out that it truly was a hazard like no other they would likely ever compete on.
Fortunately, we trained most every week on our home course and we knew where the sand was soft and where it was hard. Knowledge of the sand was the first thing the experienced runners would tell their new teammates each autumn. They didn’t have to add how it would slow even the best of runners upon first encounter in a race. We discovered that ourselves on Day One of practice.
I ran two years of Cross Country at Ridgewood High School. Our coach, Larry Coyle, midway through each of my seasons took me aside in advance of an upcoming dual meet against one of our lesser opponents in the league. He wanted to alert me that he was resting a few of my teammates. I figured out fast that this was his way of saying, he would really like to see me win. As was his style, he didn’t say much else.
Yes, I won these races going away. My opponents, not knowing the sand like I did, spent their energy sloggin through the sand at Graydon Pool. As you might expect, I ran on the hard packed sections of sand and slowly pulled away from them while coach Coyle looked on. His plans working to perfection for yet another race. It still makes me smile to think about it.
Macky’s New York
Matthew Cortellesi Photography
July 28, 2022 - Union Square
The Sound Of Sneakers
I took a photo on my way to work about 20 feet to the right this morning - I was looking west and now on my way home from work...I shoot this looking east - there was no sound besides the homeless guy looking over my shoulder saying "Cézanne" - never underestimate the genius around you..
Shot on Union Square west looking north east with W Hotel and Barnes and Noble in distance
Time 445pm
#ny1pic
William Peay
Tales From The Wood…
The "fork" at Doremus and Ackerman...
RHS Athletic Hall Of Fame
Save The Date: November 5, 2022
Visit The RHS Athletic Hall Of Fame & Order Tickets for 2022 Inductees Banquet
Digital Printing for the RHS Hall of Fame provided by Tim Boucher, RHS 1988
M + A NYC
Mighty Are We As One
Inspired by art, designed in New York, and made by hand with love by artisans all over the world. Shop home décor and wearable accessories at www.mplusanyc.com
Jim Schoneman
Rock Hound
These are designed to hang on a standard necklace chain.
Daniel Hill Media
Social Media Strategist
Where we fix everything from tractors to relationships.
Kathy & Ross Petras
You’re Saying It Wrong
bruschetta
Here’s a food we’ve known and loved for years that we’ve always pronounced “broo-SHET-a” — and no one ever corrected us. Probably the waiters were too polite or they didn’t know either. In a survey of the most commonly mispronounced food words done by the Chicago Tribune, bruschetta easily made it into the top ten.
For the record, it’s pronounced “broo-SKET-ah” with a hard ch sound, as in modern Italian. The word comes from the old Tuscan Italian dialect and is derived from the word bruscare meaning “to roast over coals.” More