Helen captured my heart from the moment I saw her.  Several months ago while exploring an area in midtown Manhattan, a woman with red horns on her head and multiple suitcases in a wide open basketball court immediately got my attention.  Her clothes and open suitcases were spread out as if she was taking inventory.  And of course, I immediately wanted to photograph her. Walking around the basketball court, trying to determine the best approach, all it took was for our eyes to meet.  Assuming she was a woman of the streets, I wanted to take my time to make sure she felt comfortable with me.  Once we made eye contact and several photographs had been captured of nothing around the court, I eased my way towards her.  As they say…the rest was history.  She immediately trusted me unconditionally.

Meet Helen…only I quickly nicknamed her Horny Helen within five minutes of chatting …the name fit her perfectly.   It took no time to realize that perhaps there was a touch of instability involved.  But she was clean and without odor which was a welcome relief and very rare in comparison to others I’ve encountered.  She was funny, often hilarious, yet gentle and oh so full of conversation. Only a few times did her voice fluctuate into rants, but even then it was only momentarily until her “inside” voice came back in control.  I found her fascinating.

We chatted about careers and she was intrigued when she learned I was raised on a farm in Virginia.  (I really do think that was the final clincher for her trusting me and sharing so much.)  Anyway, she talked about her life as a daughter, a mother, a professor, an owner of a realty company in Florida…pulling out various identifications to support her claims. I found her photos on her I.D. cards to be even more fascinating.  Her hero?  Homer Simpson.  Stickers everywhere…on her papers, suitcases, you name it.

But her main topic of conversation was being a lover.  Some of the conversation I understood and some I didn’t. There had been a man involved…that much I understood.  Perhaps that was her demise?  Don’t know.  I didn’t ask many questions, just let her talk and she loved that I was there to listen.  Preparing to leave I will never ever forget her saying as she rambled on about her love life…“Honey, I grew up when a tampon was an erotic instrument.” Cracking up, I went on my way…hoping for another encounter one day.  I have returned to the area a couple of times with no sign of Horny Helen…but I’ll keep looking and hoping that our paths will cross again one day.

p.s. Yes, I’m still in Arizona…just needed a little down time to learn how to compose triptychs!  Yeah!  Success!

p.s.s. If you happen to be some creep out there…before you even try to enlarge Helen’s identification cards for her personal information…know that I’ve already blurred out anything of importance!

There really are no words to describe the feelings of attending a candlelight vigil for two small children murdered by their nanny here in my neighborhood.

Even though I didn’t know the family, I just wanted to join others in showing that our community cares and in some small way give support that will hopefully provide strength they’ll need for the months and years to come.

Then the child opened its eyes, and looked up into the angel’s beautiful face,

which beamed with happiness, and at the same moment they were in heaven, where joy and bliss reigned.

The child received wings like the other angel, and they flew about together, hand in hand.

Hans Christian Andersen

(This week Bella’s 52 Photos prompt is “holding…”  I couldn’t think of a better way to show how a community comes together to “hold” each other…during a candlelight vigil.)

Once again a travel interruption to bring you this very important update:

Today I volunteered at the non-profit Meals on Wheels to deliver food to the needy.  I mean really?  How time consuming could that be?  And I really needed to give back since I’m fortunate enough to have electricity, an internet connection and stores that are open in my neighborhood.

Well let’s start by getting to Meals on Wheels’ headquarters from my neighborhood.  Needing the exercise, I walked.  One hour and 15 minutes later I arrived promptly at 11:00 a.m, expecting to have responsibility for delivering several meals.

“Ms. Craig, you have a meal to deliver to Jay Street and Greenwich Ave.  Thank you for helping.”

One meal?  Really?  Hmm…well I am in midtown and that location is near Battery Park.  Which equates to FAR.

Continuing down Lexington Avenue (turning into Lafayette) I came upon a ton of people waiting at a bus stop.  Yeah!  Most buses were traveling to Brooklyn, but finally after about 20 minutes of waiting a local Manhattan bus arrived.  Yeah!  However, after traveling about ten blocks (which took about 30 minutes) an announcement was made.  That was the last stop for this route.

Back to walking…

One hour and 15 minutes later, I arrived at Jay and Greenwich.

“Oh, yes, Ms. O is on the eleventh floor.  As you know there’s no electricity here.  Do you have a flashlight?”

Me:  No.

“Well here you go, borrow this one.  Down the hall and up the stairs to the eleventh floor.”

Eleven very dark and creepy floors later, I knocked on Ms. O’s door.

Hello Ms. O…I’m here to deliver your meal from Meals on Wheels.

“Is it kosher?”

ms. o

Ms. O was a trip!  Loved her!

(Let’s just say I got home around 3:30 p.m…I mean really?   How time consuming could it be to deliver one meal?)

Heading back to the real Holland!  Stay tuned!