Canstruction 2015

Last year my mom and I went to see the results of the Canstruction contest on a whim, but it was surprisingly fun, so we went back to see this year's entries. Canstruction is a national contest whose purpose is to raise awareness about hunger, and all canned goods used to create the sculptures are donated to local food banks.

We both agreed that last year's contest produced better results, but there were still some interesting creations this year. There was the inevitable Trump appearance (with the Democratic side featuring... CAN-ye West?), two sculptures featuring Yoshi, a Golden Gate bridge made from spaghetti boxes over a bay of sea salt (cute), a rocket ship, bat signal, dragon, boxing turtle (?), Harold and the Purple Cans (aw), an eyeball, the WashingCAN monument (groan), a butterfly, PacMan and a Cookie Monster made primarily of tuna (ew).

The best of the bunch included an homage to Bugs Bunny, complete with carrot, a charging bull and Magic 8-Ball (which I overheard someone call "a hand holding a world," - sorry, try again). My very favorite was a dual subway scene, featuring the dreaded manspread on one side, and a person demonstrating proper bag-holding procedure on the other. Its accompanying sign said that courtesy is "CANtagious." We overheard a little boy interpreting the scene as "someone sitting on a toilet"—a more accurate description of the New York subway experience, there isn't.

Woodlawn Cemetery

On Sunday Jim and I made the trek up to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. Woodlawn is the very last stop on the 4 train, which is now significantly farther for me living in Brooklyn than it was when I lived in Harlem. We had tried to go once this past winter, only to be told the cemetery wasn't allowing walk-ins "due to hazardous conditions," (it was snowing, but come on).

A few weeks after we were rebuffed, I tried again on my own—there was snow on the ground but it was sunny and in the 40s—only to be denied entry for the same reason as before. I had successfully been to Woodlawn once (in the fall), but after two failed attempts I was slightly hesitant to go back. It's hard for me, however, to resist the allure of a cemetery—especially on a beautiful, sunny fall day.

One of the first mausoleums you see as you walk along the central drive belongs to the Woolworth family. I remembered it from my first trip because I've never met an Egyptian-style tomb that I haven't loved, and theirs is spectacular. Woodlawn opened in 1863 and is one of the largest cemeteries in the city. Like Green-Wood, it's a designated National Historic Landmark and is the final resting place of many famous people. We grabbed a map from the office and visited the graves of Miles Davis, Fiorello La Guardia, Duke Ellington, Irving Berlin, Herman Melville, Robert Moses (by the highway, of course), Montana "Copper King" W. A. Clark and Archibald Gracie, a survivor of the Titanic.

I've complained about the lackluster leaves this fall, but the trees in Woodlawn were really beautiful. The sunny, cloudless sky and midday sun combined with the bright oranges, yellows and reds to make the most wonderful backdrop for viewing headstones and monuments.

Woodlawn feels a little newer and a bit more grand than Green-Wood and there are certainly more mausoleums (up to $1.5 million to build one today). There were still some wonderfully spooky sights to be found in between the grandeur—an ornate, rusty chair, mourning girls and cherubs with their faces chiseled away by acid rain. My favorite though is Hattie, forever separated from her legs but still standing guard. We even found a mausoleum that was topped with a clock, which is not something that seems very necessary when most of your neighbors are no longer very concerned about keeping the time.

And speaking of those Egyptian monuments I love so much, Woodlawn is lousy with them. It seemed as if everywhere we looked we saw this wonderful style—slightly triangular, flanked by sphinxes, adorned with winged suns—probably a case of people "keeping up with the Joneses," or perhaps just the Woolworths.

Standalone Diners

I've been seeing a lot of articles lately about the fate of the classic New York diner, no doubt set in motion by the (very depressing) recent closure of the Market Diner. It's a topic that has been on my mind pretty much from the moment I moved to the city, and back in August I was asked to write about disappearing diners for the Need Supply blog. I had unwittingly been doing research nearly every weekend for years, but I amped up my diner visits to gather new information for the post.

In the beginning of last year, I made it a goal to visit the last five remaining stand-alone diners in Manhattan. This list included the now-shuttered Market Diner, Empire Diner, Star on 18, Square Diner and Pearl Street Diner. A stand-alone diner is freestanding on at least three sides, making them quite rare in a city where air rights can be sold for millions.

It turns out that there's one more in Manhattan that I missed on my first go-around—Hector's, an oversight that I quickly remedied. I didn't have time to eat at all the diners I scouted, but I did have breakfast at Hector's. It is wedged somewhat improbably under the Highline park, making it even more of an anomaly in an area of the city filled with designer shops and boutique hotels. I sat at the counter—my favorite seat at any diner—and had a very delicious breakfast wrap and coffee that was refilled numerous times.

I only walked by the New Thompson's Diner in Long Island City, but underneath its new (and horrible) awning is a beautiful classic stainless steel diner. I love the red stripe details, but it's killing me not knowing what's under that awning. I have seen many new-ish awnings come down only to reveal beautifully-preserved old signage underneath, and I can only hope the New Thompson's is harboring a similar secret.

Also in Long Island City is a beautiful stand-alone diner that is currently sitting empty. It was most recently home to M. Wells steakhouse, but the inside still has classic diner décor—long counter, vinyl booths, stainless accents and swivel stools. It looks as though it's being renovated or at least doesn't look totally abandoned, which gives me hope that it won't suffer the same fate as the Market Diner (or 5 Pointz) and end up leveled to make way for even more luxury condos.

Prospect Park: Fall

On Saturday my dude and I wanted to take a walk. Although it's already the second week in November, the weather still feels more like September. I've been commenting since the beginning of fall that I just didn't think the leaves were going to be very beautiful this year, and unfortunately I think I'm right. The leaves change in the city much later than I'm used to from living in Ohio, but I don't think we're going to get much of a show this year.

That didn't stop us from finding some trees in Prospect Park that actually came to work this year, although I think most might already be past their peak. Saturday was cloudy but warm, and just walking through the piles of leaves made me feel like a kid happily jumping into the huge piles of leaves my dad used to rake up in our front yard. We shuffled through some pretty beautiful spreads and saved a few of the better specimens.

I haven't talked much about my move this summer to Brooklyn, but I've never once regretted the decision to change boroughs. Sometimes I miss my morning commute through the park, but I love exploring new parts of the city and being so close to places I've always loved like Prospect Park and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It's been a little bit difficult to really appreciate fall this year when I'm still sweating in a light jacket, but I'm glad we got a glimpse of it before we're walking through the park in our snow boots again.

Magic Forest: Storybook Forest

I know I've posted a lot about the Magic Forest, but there were so many wonderful, weird, creepy, strange and ridiculous things contained within the relatively small park that I'm still having a hard time grasping the scope of it all (this will be my last post on it though—unless I go back).

Most of the park felt very collected rather than curated. Figures of varying styles and genres are placed around seemingly haphazardly—Santa next to Uncle Sam, chickens next to elephants, Robin Hood next to the Easter Bunny. Things get slightly more cohesive when you enter the Storybook Forest section, although the style of the figures still varies wildly from scene to scene.

A large portion of the figures are of the glassy-eyed, often open-mouthed variety that is common throughout the park. It's pretty obvious that these figures were all made by the same person, and they're the reason I though this post was Halloween-week appropriate—they're terrifying.

As the name implies, the Storybook Forest includes figures and scenes that can be found in classic storybooks and nursery rhymes. Goldilocks and her three bears (which looked an awful lot like seals), the Old Lady in the Shoe, the Mad Hatter, Jack Sprat (and his wife), Little Jack Horner and Little Boy Blue are just some of the stories represented.

Like a lot of other things in the Magic Forest, most of the storybook scenes were broken or damaged in some way. Almost all had buttons that, when pushed would tell the story on which the scene was based—in theory. I think I pushed every one and had about a 10% success rate, but it should be obvious by now that a large part of the Magic Forest's appeal to me was its scrappiness.

And like finding a Van Tassel headstone at Green-Wood, I was thrilled to see two classic Washington Irving stories represented: Rip Van Winkle and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which both felt right at home in the overgrown, cobweb-covered, slightly spooky and entirely wonderful Storybook Forest.

Sleepy Hollow, 2015

We recently went on our third annual day trip to the village of Sleepy Hollow—formerly known as North Tarrytown—which is located about an hour north of the city in the Hudson River Valley. Although Washington Irving published his classic short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow in 1820, North Tarrytown didn't officially adopt the name until 1996.

The village is very small, but they definitely embrace its association with Halloween, and have fully adopted the headless horseman as their village mascot. He appears on everything from the street signs to the fire trucks, sanitation vehicles and police badges—even the high school football team is called the Horsemen.

We started off the day by seeing the Chagall and Matisse windows at Union Church, which is located in the picturesque neighborhood of Pocantico Hills, northeast of Sleepy Hollow. Photos aren't allowed inside of the church, but it's definitely worth the trek (we took Uber) to see the incredible glasswork by two insanely-talented artists. The Matisse window is widely believed to be his last work and Union Church is one of only three places in the US to see Chagall glass.

We wandered around taking in—and taking photos with—the festive sights, drank pumpkin beers and hot cider, took a lantern tour of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, were scared and impressed walking through the creepy Horseman's Hollow and I came away with a floaty pen featuring the headless horseman—this is Halloween.

More Sleepy Hollow: The Great Jack 'O Lantern Blaze | Lyndhurst | Sunnyside + Kykuit | Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

Green-Wood Cemetery

I feel as if I'm forever explaining and defending my love of cemeteries. I insist that I don't find them sad or creepy, but instead consider them peaceful, lovely places to spend a leisurely afternoon. I'm fascinated by their history and the histories of their residents; by the design of the stones and by the symbolism and trends that dictate those designs. And this is true the majority of the time, but every once in a while I do see things in cemeteries that creep me out or make me sad. I guess I sort of even like those things, and I definitely do seek them out even if I'm not entirely sure why.

I've been to Green-Wood cemetery more frequently than any other cemetery, and while I've still not managed to see it all, I've tried to explore parts of the cemetery that aren't as frequented by visitors and tours. Since it is Halloween week, I thought I'd share some of the things I've found on recent visits that have made me happy to have found something a little different, and creeped me out a little at the same time.

Statues and figures are always my favorite things to look at in cemeteries, and Green-Wood has some incredible ones. The more disfigured they've become due to age and weather the better. There's pretty much nothing creepier than a mourner or creepy child topping a headstone that's missing a face, or fingers or hands (or all of the above). Except of course the hooded mourner that I came across recently, which earns the distinction of being the single creepiest/scariest grave marker I've seen yet.

Then of course there are mausoleums and vaults, most of which are kept in impeccable condition at Green-Wood. I was surprised recently to find myself in an area of the cemetery that was more run-down than I'm used to seeing, with a handful of mausoleums that were bricked-up, over-grown and generally felt forgotten.

And because I always have Sleepy Hollow on the mind around this time of year, I was thrilled to stumble upon a plot for a Van Tassel—no indication that they're related to the real family that inspired Washington Irving, but a girl can dream.

Mother Pigeon

I first saw Tina Trachtenburg and her soft-sculpture pigeons in Union Square last April. Tina calls herself Mother Pigeon, and created the sculptures as a way to help people "understand that pigeons are beautiful." She moves them around the city to various parks, but I've seen her most frequently in Union Square.

I am not afraid to admit that I detest real pigeons—actually I'm kind of frightened of birds in general—but I'm obsessed with Tina's creations. I can't help but stop every time I see them to see what they're up to, and to donate whatever I can spare. I never mind giving money to people that move me in some way, and it's hard to put my finger on why exactly, but I just love these pigeons. They're so cute and quirky and very realistic—from a few feet away you'd swear they were real until you realize they aren't moving.

It's not just the pigeons themselves, but the whole set-up that's perfect. I love her signs and her various props—in addition to pigeons, she also has a grouping of smaller birds and pizza slices. She most recently added a few rats nibbling on a slice of pizza, a wonderful scene I can only assume was inspired by overnight New York celebrity (and my spirit animal), Pizza Rat.

I don't know Tina and I've never talked to her, but if you see her and her pigeons please be respectful. I've seen people rearranging her scenes to get the photo they want (which I think is so rude) and little kids run up and grab the sculptures while their parents do nothing. You can tell a lot of thought and work goes into these sculptures, and they've brightened many of my days in ways that real pigeons never would. I love that I live in a world that not only has a Pizza Rat, but also has a woman who loves all of New York's creatures enough to turn them into art.

BBG: September

My dude and I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden on a recent weekday that we had off (thank you, Yom Kippur!). I hadn't been to the garden since cherry blossom (and tulip!) season, even though the garden and I are now practically neighbors. We went in a back entrance and were surprised at how much they've added, with more new sections still under construction. I'm a member of the NYBG, but I've always loved the more manageable size of the Brooklyn Botanic.

It was a bit early for any fall foliage, and a bit late for the summer blooms, but I love exploring the in between stages of the gardens. The rose garden was still in full, spectacular bloom with some beautiful color combinations and variations that I had never seen before. I was also enamored with the tiny, brightly colored peppers blooming in the herb garden, the sinister looking black pearl peppers, and the adorable gourds hanging from the beams near the rose garden.

The garden is also hosting an exhibit by Isamu Noguchi from now until December. His iconic rock sculptures are scattered throughout the gardens, and while

I enjoyed the Noguchi museum

, I thought it was a little harder to appreciate his work in this setting—and sometimes the sculptures become indistinguishable from the actual rocks sitting nearby.

It was a really beautiful fall day (the first!) to take a stroll through the garden. At one point it was said that the light through the trees was so specifically "September light," which was so true. I'm always in such a hurry to usher out summer and dive right into pumpkins, ghosts, crunchy leaves and sweaters that sometimes I don't pay enough attention to these in between times, which as it turns out, can be just as lovely.

Magic Forest: Animals

In addition to all of the glassy-eyed, nightmare-inducing, not-quite-human inhabitants of the Magic Forest, there are tons of animals—fiberglass, plastic, realistic, fantastical and otherwise—roaming the grounds as well.

While I'm obviously not actually creeped out by anything in the Magic Forest—in fact, I loved it all more than anything—I can objectively see how strange it all is. The people statues were definitely more on the creepy side of things, and while some of the animals skewed toward the macabre, some were downright adorable.

One of the adult rides is a safari, which is basically a trolley pulled very slowly by a noxious-fume-emitting diesel tractor. The ride takes you through a section of the park you can't walk through, and by animals thrown together in scenes that make sense—until they don't. There are jungle animals, dinosaurs, bears, chickens, deer, foxes, pink flamingos and tigers cohabiting, proving that the Magic Forest is indeed a magical land where these creatures all live in harmony.

There are lion-head drinking fountains, hippo-head trash cans, dirty stuffed animals, an animal band, unicorns, poodles and polar bears—all of which are different styles and come from totally different worlds, but work together to create the weird world that I loved so much.

Coney Island: September

Right now it's full-speed ahead to fall and then magical snow and then mutant piles of ice and trash that in some places probably haven't even fully melted from last winter. This summer whizzed by, as time is fond of doing now that I'm old, and it seems like just yesterday we were eating hot dogs with our gloves on celebrating a very chilly opening day at Coney Island.

We made it back a few months later, and although Coney Island doesn't officially close until after Halloween, it felt like a little goodbye to summer. It was still very hot and we sipped a soda from Nathan's, got our fortunes told by Grandma, rode the Wonder Wheel, walked the boardwalk, browsed the Phoenicia Flea and saw the Coney Art Walls.

There were hints that the season is coming to a close—t-shirt sales, premature Halloween decor, a chilly breeze at the top of the Wonder Wheel—but I'll never tire of seeing Coney Island in any season. We passed up the line outside of the new Wahlburgers location (is it that good?) for pizza at Totonno's, and I was thrilled to finally cross it off my list of classic pizzas to try. It was really good—maybe not totally worth the long wait and shoddy service—although it was the perfect end to a perfect day in the perfectly imperfect Coney Island.

Whitney Museum

On Monday I finally made it to the new Whitney Museum of American Art. I had been to the old Whitney once, to see its final show on Jeff Koons, and I had been wanting to see the new space ever since it opened. I was wary of the crowds, but I had Monday off (happy Sukkot!) and some friends were already planning to go.

The building is shiny and new, although we immediately had some gripes about the flow of traffic—we tried to take the stairs but were forced to take the elevator—and only two of the galleries were open. The other galleries will reopen in October with new exhibitions, but there were some great things to see in the permanent collection. There were also some pieces of abstract art that make me groan—metal poles leaning in corners, entirely black canvas squares—but the pop art collection was entertaining.

I absolutely loved Women and Dog by Marisol, as can be expected from a work that includes, a "taxidermic dog head," heads with multiple faces and a random hand. I also liked the giant Claes Oldenburg ashtray and cigarette butts because larger-than-life soft sculptures of everyday objects are totally my jam.

The outdoor spaces at the Whitney are just as, if not more, impressive than the current art collection. There are multiple balconies featuring excellent views of the rooftops, Highline and buckets full of meat scraps below. It's an interesting statement on modern/abstract art that they had to erect signs warning patrons that the sculptures on the terraces are actually art and not, in fact, benches.

But in a museum that houses Warhol, de Kooning and O'Keefe, my favorite piece of American art was Leonardo DiCaprio, who I quite awkwardly noticed when I turned around and found myself inches away from his face. For a little over an hour, we then proceeded to watch him (and his model/actress girlfriend) look at the art—and what's more American than that?

Lake George: Mini Golf

No matter what happens in my life going forward, our Labor Day weekend trip to Lake George will remain one of my favorite trips ever. The entire weekend was perfect—beginning with the diner stops on the way there, everything that followed was magical (not to mention the life-changing Magic Forest). We packed so many things into three days and it was the perfect end to a summer that flew by alarmingly fast. Every activity we did was summery, including not one, but two nights of playing miniature golf.

I can't remember the last time I played mini-golf, but it was probably when I was in Ohio and I was probably not an adult yet. I had almost forgotten how silly and fun it is, and how very bad I am at all sports, mini-golf included. The first night we went to the Around the World/US (18 holes for each) golf course, right across from Lake George. I wanted to see the World's Fair muffler man, which we did, before playing the Around the US course. Aside from some glaring inaccuracies (a Hoover Dam-themed course representing the wrong state), it was a really great course with just the right amount of kitsch and challenge.

In addition to the Bunyan muffler man, they also had a muffler man-esque Native American, a big lobster, the classic windmill, a surfer, Florida orange, Vegas roulette wheel and Colorado Rockies. The 18th hole was a New York subway station—with a real subway bench and a replica train car—that you actually went underground to play. I was unnecessarily excited to do so—considering we both spend a large portion of our lives in actual subway stations—but there was something weird and wonderful about being in one on a mini-golf course upstate.

Our last night in Lake George was spent playing Goony Golf, which we saw as we were driving around town our first day and knew we needed to play. If you have to pick only one mini-golf place in Lake George, I would go with Goony. It was colorful, whimsical and more stylistically cohesive than Around the World, although it was much more crowded.

I loved all of the brightly-colored concrete figures and hand-painted signage. Goony Golf is slightly newer than Around the World, but still has a vintage kitsch appeal in its simplicity and whimsy. My favorite was definitely the Goonysaurs, which we saw from the road, but was even better up-close with its glowing eyes and big bone cane. Even the trash cans were whimsically topped with clown heads. If heaven exists for me, I imagine it can't do much better than to resemble the Magic Forest, with a side of Goony Golf.

Magic Forest: People

The landscape of the Magic Forest is made up of hundreds of figures from various genres, holidays and stories. They're made of fiberglass or concrete or other materials, covered in cobwebs and sit in various stages of decay. Before you even enter the grounds, you encounter a few larger-than-life figures, including Santa Claus, who seems to be the unofficial mascot of the park.

A lot of the Magic Forest is holiday-themed, most of which is specifically Christmas, so it makes sense that one of the first figures to greet you is Santa. He also appears on the big pencil and the pennant souvenirs that I bought, alongside the diving horse and train ride as Magic Forest highlights. The first attraction that we went in was also Christmas-themed, and throughout the forest we saw a few more Santa figures, including one with a belly so large that it was resting on a stool.

There were a lot of elves and fairy-type figures scattered around, peeking down from the tops of buildings, waving magic wands and reaching out to steal your children and your innocence. It's actually astounding just how many figures they've fit into a relatively small amusement park. A lot of the figures seem haphazardly placed, but some feel as if they were designed with the structures in mind.

I joked at one point that I was going to do an entire post on busted hands, because it seemed like everywhere we looked there was a gnarled appendage. I would estimate that the majority of figures we encountered were in less-than pristine condition, missing some fingers or their hands entirely. Some had been repaired, and of course wear-and-tear is to be expected at a 52-year-old park. But I love the weirdness of mannequins and loose body parts in general, so the more busted parts I spotted, the more I fell in love with the Magic Forest.

There were some figures that looked like they were distant cousins of the muffler men, like the tomahawk-wielding Native American or the Walt Disney/friendly-gas-station-attendant lookalike. There are so many different styles on display at the Magic Forest and it truly feels like a collection slowly acquired over decades. Some are more realistic than others, some are cute, some are creepy and some—like anything that had glass eyes—will be haunting me for quite some time.

Coney Island: Art Walls

Last weekend we went to Coney Island to see the Phoenicia Flea—which turned out to be significantly smaller than I had hoped, but I finally got to see the Art Walls, "an outdoor museum of street art featuring the work of 34 celebrated artists."

The exhibition is exactly what it sounds like—34 free-standing walls that double as canvasses for a variety of different styles, words and imagery. Each wall is illuminated with overhanging lights like it's in a museum. I loved that each wall is different, and while I prefer some styles to others, they make a nice collection when viewed all together.

My favorites were the ones depicting classic Coney Island iconography, particularly the "Congress of Curious Peoples" by Marie Roberts. I adore her sideshow-banner style, and her paintings are one of my favorite parts of current-day Coney Island. The Art Walls definitely fit in with the hodge podge of new and old, artful and tacky, weird and family-friendly attractions that make Coney Island one of my favorite places in the city.

Magic Forest: Part One

It's been hard for me to even wrap my head around our recent trip to Lake George, and more importantly our day spent exploring the Magic Forest. Before we even stepped foot into the Magic Forest, I declared it the best day of my life—eating at a vintage diner, with an entire year's anticipation at its peak. That might seem like an over-exaggerated sentiment for a day spent at an amusement park (a week after I turned 30), but I assure you it isn't. It will be hard to explain exactly why I love the Magic Forest so much, but if you know me and my aesthetic, it might make sense.

I found out about the Magic Forest a little over a year ago, when we temporarily became the Griswolds, and drove two hours out of our way just to find that it had closed for the season. I briefly considered walking through the large gaps in the fence, but ultimately my law-abiding nature won out and we left—but I vowed to return as soon as I could, praying that they would reopen the following season.

The Magic Forest opened in 1963 off of Route 9 in Lake George, which is located in the Adirondacks region of upstate New York. It's about a 4.5 hr drive from the city, and there are some lovely diners along the way if you're into that. The park has nineteen children's and four adult rides, plus a magic show, train ride, safari and the only remaining diving horse attraction in the country. The wonderful woman at the ticket counter actually tried to dissuade us from coming in by warning us that the park was most suitable for children 9 and under, but she had no way of knowing that I had dreamed of visiting for the entire past year.

Half of the reviews I read said the Magic Forest was outdated, rundown, creepy and felt unsafe. The other half declared it a classic time-warp—what it lacked in safety procedures and modern-day thrill-rides, it more than made up for in vintage charm. I obviously think the latter, although once I was inside it somehow managed to exceed all of my expectations.

The park feels as if it hasn't changed in almost any way since it opened in the 60s. It's definitely the furthest I've ever felt to actually going back in time. All of the employees seemed as if they had been there for many years, and none of the rides felt at all influenced by modern technology. The four rides that we could ride were a rickety ferris wheel that felt as if it was built from an Erector set, a rollercoaster that I was sure was going to disintegrate with us on it, a train ride through the forest operated by a conductor older than any of my grandparents, and a safari ride that was pulled by a very slow-moving tractor continuously emitting noxious diesel fumes.

We spent more than 4 hours walking around the small park, going inside every building and riding every ride we could. There are tons of fiberglass figures stashed in every corner of the park, including four muffler men, a storybook forest, two Santa Claus's, the world's tallest Uncle Sam and a Snow White attraction with a questionable pedigree. I took approximately 700 photos (I know), all of which I obviously won't share, but there are so many figures to see that I'll be devoting a few posts to all of our spiderweb-covered, glassy-eyed new friends that creeped us out along the way.

We saw Lightning the Diving Horse perform both of his shows—1pm and 4pm—and while I'm aware that the ethics are a bit shaky, I promise you that Lightning didn't appear to be suffering in any way. Diving horse attractions began in the 1880s but declined in popularity after World War II due to animal welfare concerns. Lightning is the son of Rex, the Magic Forest's original diving horse who started diving at the park in 1977. The emcee clearly states that "there is no rider, no prods, no electrical jolts, and no trap doors" and that Lightning dives completely of his own free will.

The ladies at the snack bar were putting together a puzzle in between filling orders; I put a quarter in a prize machine in the arcade, and received no prize and we tried to play ski ball but the machines were too jammed with quarters to accept ours; the gift shop closed before the park did, but they let us come back the next day to pick up some souvenirs; the magician doubles as the emcee for the diving horse, and makes balloon animals in between shows to give to the children—for $2 a piece. I love, love, loved the Magic Forest—a theme park that has remained untouched by time, become abandoned while it's still in business and is completely unaware of how cool and marketable it actually is—and I hope it continues to forget that it should have closed years ago and remains in Lake George forever.

Upstate NY Diners

I mentioned that we passed three diners just off of the Taconic Parkway, on our way to Lake George—we ate at the West Taghkanic Diner but we just stopped to creep on the Chief Martindale Diner and O's Eatery. I'm sure the Taconic used to be lousy with roadside diners in the 60s, but diners are dying at an alarming rate. They seem to be less threatened upstate than they are in the city, but faster interstates and more direct routes have left scenic roadways like the Taconic feeling forgotten.

All three of these diners are very close to each other—it took about 8 minutes to drive from one to the other. I almost fainted with excitement when we arrived at the Chief Martindale Diner. They have not one, but two amazing signs, and it's impossible to pick which one I like more. The neon DINER letters are HUGE (presumably to function as a billboard to passing motorists) and just perfect in every way. The Chief Martindale sign is a total classic as well, although I guess I could say that it's lacking in colorful neon like the West Taghkanic sign, but it's just so great with its arrow and script that I can't fault it for much.

O's Eatery was slightly underwhelming, but only because the two before it were so very excellent. Taken alone, its double-sided diner sign is pretty perfect, but it's also not a classic rail car style like the other two. I can't speak to the interiors of either place, although I did look up the Chief Martindale and from what I saw, I think it might be even better inside than the West Taghkanic if that's possible (next time!).

Bonus diner!

On our first morning in Lake George, we ate at the Prospect Mountain Diner, and we liked it so much that we came back the next two days for breakfast. It's a classic rail car style, and although they have outdoor seating, we sat inside for ambiance-sake. The vinyl-glitter booths, black-and-white-checked floor and boomerang countertops were all so wonderful, but it was the tabletop jukeboxes that really set the scene (your song selection played throughout the whole diner). At one point during our first breakfast—with a delicious waffle in front of me and a whole day at the Magic Forest ahead of us—I looked up and said "I don't think I could be happier than I am now," and I definitely meant it.

Muffler Men: Magic Forest

In addition to the two Paul Bunyan muffler men that we saw on our recent trip to Lake George, we saw a few other less traditional figures. The Magic Forest contains four muffler men, including one Bunyan, a clown, an Amish-looking "happy halfwit" and Pecos Bill.

While the Bunyans are the most classic, the thing I love most about muffler men is the customization and variation between them. It's fascinating to me the amount of objects, themes and outfits that all sprung from essentially the same place, multiplied by changes made throughout the years.

The clown is the one I was most looking forward to seeing, simply because it varies the most from the standard model. I was disappointed slightly that he wasn't holding anything (a hot dog!?), but his "come here little children" gesture definitely ups the creep factor significantly.

While I certainly recognize their ability to creep, I've never really been scared of clowns. The Pecos Bill muffler man, however, definitely made me feel a bit uneasy. The lighting was such that his face was in shadow, which made him feel more sinister than I'm sure he was meant to be. I do love his airbrushed belt buckle, although that feels like a more modern addition.

The happy half wit is the most intriguing—I'm not exactly sure what possessed someone to style this half wit like an Amish lumberjack, but I'm into it. According to the muffler men-experts, American Giants, the half wit is a name coined by Roadside America for the Alfred E. Neuman-lookalike that International Fiberglass (maker of the muffler men) called the "mortimer snerd." The one at the Magic Forest sports and Amish-style beard, hat and shirt and carries what appears to be a rather new axe. We discovered a busted axe laying on the ground pretty close to the halfwit, although I guess it could have once belonged to Pecos Bill (now object-less) or my fantasy-husband-Bunyan near the entrance.