I Photographed On St. Paddy's Day in the Rockaways, #2

The photographs and story begins in the post below.

"Brittany with Her Child on the Boulevard", Rockaways, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley

Our first stop was right next to the subway entrance, my favorite diner. It had become part of my regular routine.

"Would you like something to eat?", I asked Amy.

She declined. We found a table, set down our bags. The waitresses rushed by, one set a two menus in front of us and said she would be right back to take our order. I always got the same thing, two eggs or medium, home fries, whole wheat toast (toasted with butter on the side) and bacon. I looked around the diner to see if I could recognize any of my old chums were sitting at a table drinking holding onto an empty cup waiting for their next refill. No, one in sight. I was hoping to see Barbara, the woman who delivered the paper early in the morning and then spent her mornings and early afternoons drinking coffee there.

I called Charlie, my old friend who had always let me sleep on his floor if I spent a couple of nights out there. The last time, I called he was stuttering and I had a hard time understanding him. He told me he had had a stroke. I could barely understand him on the phone. He apologized for his inability to form words.

"Call back later" he said, "You can talk to Sheri."

Several minutes later, a woman with a thick Caribbean accent picked up the phone. It was Sheri. She explained that she was Charlie's home health care aide.

"We were on our way to the Kerry Hill, " I said. "Can we meet in 45 minutes at the diner?'

"Ma Smoking at Her Kitchen Table", Rockways, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley

The day was not as it was expected. But, then it never is when I go out there. I can't seem to make any plans; they normally fall through. My time was not spent photographing the the onlookers of the St. Paddy's Day parade. I ran into people that I knew on the boulevard. Kerri had another baby and so, did Brittany. Katrina had grown up from a eight-year old into teenager and had no interest in talking to me, let alone stand next to me. I exchanged a few words and laughs with them. I was informed that many no longer lived in the neighborhood but had moved out to Long Island or to other boroughs. They simply said there was nothing to do out in the Rockaways.  They were only in the neighborhood for the day to gather in a celebration that bound their Irish patriotism.

I didn't recognize anyone in the Kerry Hill except Margie, the bartender and Carmel the bar owner. I ordered a double Jamenson with a side of Diet Coke and chugged it down.

"Would you like a drink", I asked Amy. No, she didn't. Before 12pm, the bar was packed, not with the regulars I once knew, but with a cheerful bunch decked out in green hats and necklaces.

We soon left and walked out the door and onto the Boulevard. I could see Charlie and Sheri in the distance coming towards us. They had their elbows linked as they walked slowly together. I yelled Charlie's name, ran up to him and gave him a big hug. Upon seeing him, I had forgotten how much I missed him. I missed his reserved and quiet good nature. I remembered how years ago we would watch old films together on the Turner Classic station in his room and how he had to wake me up several times during the night because I was snoring. Times had changed. I got to know him before he was sober and in the worst condition, now he was sober, older but his living conditions were better. We had both gotten older.

"St. Paddy's Parade Spectator", Rockaways, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley

We had Lipton Tea together at the diner. Charlie and I shared simple words. When it was time to leave, I offered to pay the check. He wouldn't have it and I let him have his way. He asked if we would stop by his place later, "Yes," I said.

I could elaborate on all the things that happened that day but instead, for now, I can only write my sentiments and what was most impressive to me during this one day trip out there. Like I said two years had passed since I had gotten off the train at 116 Street.

Despite the fact that Charlie had had a stroke, I was happy to see Charlie in good hands. He was getting the care that he needed. He was no longer alone sitting in his room. We went and visited him later during the day. For the first time, his room was tidy and his bed was made and his clothes were in a closet. He pulled out photographs that were nicely kept in a basket sitting on his dresser. He was proud to show me photographs of his new granddaughter and old pictures of himself from much younger days.

We stopped off at the boarding house where I had met Ma in 2009. I knocked on her door and for the first time, I entered her home. The photographs in this entry and my last are from that meeting. A friend of hers had recently died and she shared images of him. She was still in mourning and clearly lonely without her friend. I took some photographs. Amy listened intently. I could see that she was happy to have the company and someone to talk with.

"Green St. Paddy's Kids", Rockaways, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley

The trip was quick. I had shot very little film. I worried and regretted. Yet, I was truly inspired and my enthusiasm was once again on fire. I knew I would go back again and spend more time... the time it takes to really sit down with someone and give them your full attention, the time it takes to take a meaningful photograph, one which speaks of both subject and photographer. I had just put my feet back on the ground.

I Photographed On St. Paddy's Day in the Rockaways, #1

"Portrait of Ma", Rockaway, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley.

On April 7, I told my friends that I was going to photograph the St. Paddy's Day Parade out in the Rockaways, my old stomping ground.

 "No, " they told me. "St. Paddy's is on the 17th." But, I knew differently. The real St. Paddy's Day is celebrated in all it's green glory out in the Rockaways.

I hadn't been out to the Rockaways since 2009.

In all the years that I have been commuting back and forth to the Rockaways, I never had a chance ( I was out of town, I forgot the date, I was unmotivated) to photograph the parade in a town once called "Irishtown" because so many Irish immigrants had settled in the community. I knew some of the old timers, the real Irishman and women who were born and raised in Ireland and still maintained a healthy brogue. I also knew some of the second generation Irish Americans, as well as, some of their kids.

Last minute, I wanted to find an intern/assistant. In desperation, only, a few days before the event, I was considering posting the day's internship to attract a possible candidate. I wanted to bring two different cameras and needed help carrying one bag to lighten my load while shooting. I put the word out to fellow photo friends. My friend David returned my text and thought he might have the perfect match for me. He told me she was a student in the photography program at the Fashion Institute of Technology.

"Go friend her on Facebook, " he said.

And I did. I needed an intern right away. I didn't have the time to be so selective. I found her on Facebook.

I looked through her photo albums on her page. There were all the usual photographs of her goofing with friends at parties. The drinks, the laughs, the mocking and perhaps, a couple of people throwing the ubiquitous popular gang signs. She was pretty. She had lot's of friends. But, honestly, none of this really mattered. In the deceptive world of Facebook, everyone wants to portray themselves as a winner and not a loser. I wasn't necessarily looking for a winner, I was looking for someone enthusiastic, helpful, and eager to learn something on a weekend afternoon.


And then I found a great self-portrait of her with her cat. The way she held the cat and looked into the camera, I felt whether true or only a projected fantasy on my part, that this girl was kind. In another self-portrait, she held a medium format camera. Ah, I could see she was in her early twenties and yet, had opted to shoot film instead of digital.

She accepted my friendship request. She was interested and free on Saturday.

Her name was Amy. It was Wednesday. There was no time to meet for a casual interview.

Between, text messages, e-mails and then a brief phone conversation, I explained the basic things I expected of her. I told her what I needed and the rest I could explain on the subway out to the Rockaways.

We set a date for 9am on the platform at Chambers St. in lower Manhattan. I told her I was petite--not short--and had short dark hair. She was also, not so tall and had long brown hair.

The next item on my shoot list was to find a way to blend in, a way to mix with the native parade onlookers.

Find green cheap and green clothes.

"Green Girl at St. Paddy's Parade", Rockaways, Queens, NYC, 3/11. Juliana Beasley

I went to the local Rainbow store where I knew I would find some cheap green shirts. I walked out the store and went to the nearby Duane Reade's, looked through the selections of green nail polish and green eyeliner. Picked up one of each for both Amy and me.

I dialed her number and left a message, "Amy, if you can, wear green nail polish." I couldn't possibly expect her to paint her fingernails on the subway.

And then to an outside market, where I bought a green knit hat that looked very funky and fashionable at that moment, so, I bought it.  Later, it looked like a frumpy hat that an eccentric older woman might sport. Nevertheless, the thought of dressing up and taking pictures in one day felt like good fun to me.

As I walked down the quiet and almost empty platform at 9 am that Saturday, I noticed a young woman sitting on a bench. "Amy?", I yelled.

Yes, it was her, she walked towards me and smiled. We got on the next train.

The subway cars were pretty quiet for a Saturday morning. I took the time to show her my equipment, explain her responsibilities. Once above ground, I pulled out my mobile and started to call the numbers of people that I knew out there. I called Charlie, Trailer Bob, Michelle, Margie and Bobby. No one picked up. I left messages. Bobby and I had already made a tentative date to meet at Roger's Pub. He told me to come early, get a seat before the parade ended the bars became crammed.

The closer we got to our destination, I noticed the St. Paddy's vendors pushing shopping carts onto the train filled with green stuffed animals. We got off the end of the line. 116th St.

More text and images soon. Very soon.

I did these scans quickly, so, they are not of the best quality. They are, in a sense, work prints for my project and edited from contact scans very quickly.

A Little Bit of Meat!

Sorry folks...

It's been a long week, turning into another one. I so want to please you all with fabulous stories with many typos written from the heart, stories starting from photographs to memoir. I often don't have the time to sit down and write the goodness you deserve.

So, this might happen here....just turn off the brain and turn on the You Tube for some easy mindless gobbily gook!

In the meantime....here's a beef burger on me and Billy Mays, served up to the classic boy school way.

Enjoy!