Falling in Love

Matisse's gouache cutouts at the Met.


The classical and regal Metropolitan Museum of Art


The soaring and inspired Guggenheim Museum - by Frank Lloyd Wright, 1959


A Hallo-weeny on the streets of New York.


Fred Leighton. Ya' gotta' love a city where they feature tiaras in the windows!



I'm afraid I'm falling in love. I've told my husband about it. He's okay with it. He may be falling in love, too. It's not another man - and he's not falling for another woman. We are falling in love with New York City.

Last night it was a spur-of-the-moment date at the Met. Lee swept me off to the European Modernists and I spent the evening hanging out with Picasso, Matisse, Giacommetti, Rodin, and Dali. It was just crazy good. And it cost all of $10.

Then we walked to the Guggenheim. Lee had never seen it and I love that building. Walking up 5th from the Met at 82nd to the Guggenheim at 88th - it is a short walk on a balmy night. In the dark, the white plaster inverted spiral leans toward the park - looking like a space ship wedged among the elegant early 20th Century homes of the Upper East Side.

Today, we went to Central Park to watch the last of the 40,000 runners in the New York City Marathon. I found out I was one of 2 million spectators. All around me, families milled around, no less than 1/3 of them speaking a language other than English. We could have been in Europe. It was inspiring, moving, and the leaves were still orange and golden and falling gently from the trees. The sun was bright and the air was crisp.

I am constantly surprised by how so many people come together daily on subways, on buses, in small, local groceries, on the paths of the park, and on the sometimes crowded sidewalks. Given the diversity of the faces, the languages and the culture, there is a magnificently civil spirit in this city. And a creative one - like nothing I have ever seen.

I just love falling in love.