Meryl Streep

Today is the 67th birthday of the Holy One, Her Royal Highness the one-and-only Mary Louise Streep. This summer also marks the 10th anniversary of my personal Summer of Streep, when in 2006 I decided for really no reason at all to watch all of Meryl Streep's movies. I subsequently amended that to include all recorded performances I could get my hands on, which ended up being quite a lot. It's impossible for me to describe exactly what it is that I find so alluring about Meryl, but I was certainly not the first (and won't be the last) to be similarly affected by her.

So many things about my life (and about me) have changed over the past ten years that I hardly recognize who when I saw The Devil Wears Prada for the first time (or the sixth time). Meryl entered my life at a time when I needed her the most, and I've been able to drop in and drop out of my fandom whenever it suits me. I saw Mamma Mia thirteen times at the theater not because it was a good movie (spoiler alert: it isn't) but because I had just graduated college and I was floundering, at least emotionally. Being able to sit in a theater (once for back-to-back showings) for two hours and forget about myself while Meryl romped around the Greek Isles in linen overalls singing ABBA songs did more for me than any therapy or anti-depressant ever could have.

I have done so many things in my life by using Meryl as a conduit. I planned an entire New England trip around the fact that her daughter was in a play in the Berkshires. Do I remember anything about that play? Not really. But I remember my first trip to Newport, RI and our tour of Mark Twain's home in Hartford, CT and the bad animatronics at the Salem Witch Museum. I remember learning about ghost orbs from a cemetery tour guide and eating pizza in Sandwich, MA. I remember being absent for the set-up of my college portfolio show because I had tickets to a tribute for Meryl at Lincoln Center, and I remember being so incredibly sick that I chugged half a bottle of cough syrup before the show because I was terrified that I'd cough and interrupt Robert Redford or Uma Thurman. I remember Meryl pulling up her bra strap during her speech and thinking "hey, I know what that feels like," and I remember sleeping on my friend Jessica's couch somewhere off the L train in a neighborhood that I'm sure is trendy now, but at the time terrified me.

My friend Trent and I probably owe our friendship more to our shared love of all things Streep than to anything else, and I will not soon forget the weekend that we spent following her to various promotional events around town for Hope Springs. Sure, she waved at both of us, but what I remember most about that trip is how much fun we had together. The only reason I remember the drunk texts that I sent during The Devil Wears Prada drinking game we played is because there was evidence, but I do remember going to multiple stores to find lemon bar mix because we wanted to make Lemony Snicket bars and Hope Spring(s) rolls. But most of all, I remember that earlier in the day, I sat under the cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and decided once and for all that I needed to move to New York.

I loved New York before I loved Meryl, but the two are so linked in my mind that it's hard to make the distinction anymore. Of course I remember her once-in-a-lifetime (or in my case, twice-in-a-lifetime) performance in Mother Courage in Central Park, but I also remember my uncle and I looking up Cats That Look Like Hitler on his Blackberry while laying on a tablecloth at 5:30am outside of the Delacorte Theater and laughing hysterically because we were so tired and because cats that look like they have mustaches are funny.

Susan Orlean writes in The Orchid Thief  (a book I probably never would have read if it had not been for Meryl starring in Adaptation): "The world is so huge that people are always getting lost in it. There are too many ideas and things and people too many directions to go. I was starting to believe that the reason it matters to care passionately about something is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size. It makes the world seem not huge and empty but full of possibility."

Without ever knowing it, Meryl Streep whittled the world down to a more manageable size for me, and in the process opened it wider than I would have ever thought possible. She was the reason I went to plays, took trips, reconnected with old friends, bonded with family members and read life-changing books. Of course I could have come at all of those things organically and without her help, but having a starting point was invaluably helpful for me. She'll never know all of this, and that's ok. It's too selfish for me to ever want her to, or to think that it would make any difference.

It's been ten years since I first checked The Bridges of Madison County out of my local library and crossed my very first Meryl movie off my list. In ten years I've lived and loved and cried and despaired and graduated college and succeeded and failed and moved halfway across the country and it's all been a little bit easier knowing that if I'm having a really bad day, I can queue up a Meryl movie and everything will be ok for a few hours.

*I took the photo above on a film camera after standing outside of Letterman in 90 degree direct sun, waiting for Meryl to arrive—I then had to wait the longest hour of my life to see my photos after taking them to a one-hour photo place around the corner, which seems unfathomable to me today*

Most Holy Trinity Cemetery

It's not so ridiculous to think that I'd still be finding new-to-me cemeteries in New York—a lot of people have lived, and died, here for ages and they all had to end up somewhere. It is surprising to me, however, that I'm still finding completely unique cemeteries that have somehow alluded me despite my immersion in all things funereal.

Most Holy Trinity Cemetery was founded in 1851 by the German Catholic Most Holy Trinity Church. It's located in Bushwick, Brooklyn and the L train runs right alongside (and looms over) the grounds. Almost all of the graves (except for a few modern ones) are marked with wood or metal markers to make no posthumous distinction between the rich and the poor. I knew this before I went to explore, but immediately upon entering the gates, I knew that I had found a cemetery unlike any I'd ever seen before.

The hollow tin markers outnumber other materials such as wood, stainless steel or copper, and the effect is visually incredible. There are approximately 25,000 graves in Most Holy Trinity, and while some have been freshly painted and well-maintained, a majority are rusting in the most beautiful ways. Layers of peeling paint and dripping rust have always been my jam, but when combined with my love of tombstones and cemeteries the end result is perfect. I said (to myself) several times as I walked around "I am so,

so

happy."

There used to be more copper monuments, but they've been stolen over the years for their scrap value. I did see a few remaining, all of which are sporting a beautiful Statue-of-Liberty green patina. There were crosses on almost everything, made from weathered wood, shiny steel and even what looked like plain (now rusty) pipe.

A lot of the hollow tin markers have become damaged in some way aside from the natural beating you'd expect from the elements. Some of them were so twisted and dented that it's hard to imagine what could have caused such intense damage. I'm used to crumbling stone or tree roots swallowing headstones over time, but I just couldn't get enough of the undulating folds and crumpled crosses. I've been arbitrarily giving "top five" status to a lot of places I've visited lately and it is a bit of a Sophie's Choice for me as far as cemeteries are concerned, but Most Holy Trinity has definitely earned a spot as one of my top-five favorite New York cemeteries.

Coney Island Mermaid Parade 2016

Last year, crappy weather prevented me from going to the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island, but I've been eager to go back since I first went in 2014. Started in 1983, the Mermaid Parade is so uniquely New York that I can't really imagine it taking place anywhere else but Coney Island. It marks the unofficial start of summer, featuring more than 3,000 artists from all over paying homage to mermaids, Neptune and all things of-the-sea—and because this is New York, pretty much anything else.

Every year a new Queen Mermaid and King Neptune are crowned. In 2014 it was Mayor deBlasio's children, Dante and Chiara, and this year model Hailey Clauson and President and CEO of the Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce, Carlo A. Scissura, took the reins. The best part about the Mermaid Parade, however, is how very unlike every other parade it is—there are no corporate floats, no one passing out flyers, no one soliciting votes. I suppose it does feel a little like the Halloween Parade, but more organized, joyful and well-lit.

As expected, there were a lot of pasties, boobs and painted bodies on display, and I really love seeing a variety of shapes, sizes and ages being their beautiful selves. If you ever need a healthy dose of body positivity, look no further than the Mermaid Parade. Mermaids are not inherently feminist in nature—those tails look awfully binding and never forget that the Prince falls in love with Ariel once she can no longer speak—but I love how inclusive and celebratory the parade feels.

Coney Island has always been the perfect place for people to get weird, and in any parade there are always people that go slightly off-topic. I saw a few parade regulars, a few people who obviously just wanted to be basically naked in public and a few people who tried their best to stretch the theme to meet their personal agenda. There were a few topical costumes too, including "Mermaids for Orlando," a David Bowie tribute group, Mr. and Miss Seaweed (who somehow scored number 420) and "Sea Change 2016" featuring Hillary, Bernie and Trump stand-ins.

I wonder how long it will take before I decide that I should start actually participating in these parades instead of merely attending them. The Thanksgiving Day Parade will always feel nostalgic to me, I love all of the dogs at the Easter Parade and the Chinese Lunar New Year Parade is a great way to feel as if you've traveled halfway across the world without leaving New York—but you'd be hard pressed to find a parade as creative, vibrant and joyful as the Mermaid Parade.

More Mermaids: 2014 Mermaid Parade

First Avenue: 92nd - 34th Streets

I didn't intend to only focus on First Avenue for my mini adventures / neighborhood walks, but I had a doctor's appointment recently that took me south down First from 92nd to 34th Street. I had walked north on First between 1st and 34th only a few weeks before, so it appealed to my organized nature to check out another large portion of the avenue.

Even though I work on the Upper East Side, a lot of the east side still feels largely unexplored to me. Every time I spend any time on York, First, Second and Third Avenues, I make a note to myself to get over there more often. Maybe it's partly due to the lack of subway lines (c'mon Second Avenue Subway!), but the east side feels more preserved and a little more old New York than the west side (at least UES vs UWS).

I am always drawn to neon—novelty shapes and scripts make me swoon—and anything handpainted, and luckily I saw a lot of both on my walk. My heart skipped a beat when I came across a standalone news stand that looked so authentically New York  and wonderfully generic that it felt like it was made for a movie set. I made note of a few diners to revisit (the Star Diner is never close!) and mourned the relocation of Gracie's Corner Diner to Second Ave—a move that unfortunately forced them to abandon their First Ave location and its perfect neon sign.

New Orleans: Pharmacy Museum

As an add-on to a tour we took on our recent trip to New Orleans, we received free admission to the Pharmacy Museum. The museum is located in the Vieux Carre Historic District of the French Quater, on Chartres Street. Louis J. Dufilho, Jr. became America's first licensed pharmacist in 1804 when Louisiana became the first state to require a licensing examination for pharmacists. Dufilho’s 1823 apothecary shop is now the Pharmacy Museum and it's an antique-medical-lover's dream.

The museum is filled with historical medical artifacts that range from the mundane to the truly bizarre. Everything is housed in beautiful wooden and glass cabinets and the physical space itself is worth the price of admission (normally $5). Immediately upon walking into the shop you feel as if you've stepped back in time.

The best part of the museum is their extensive collection of vintage medicines in bottles, boxes and tins. We could have spent days just reading the ridiculous (and beautifully designed) labels on treatments for every ailment you can imagine, from Mexican bowel pills for stomach troubles to lung balm for bronchitis to whatever it is that you use "chocolated worm syrup" to cure.

The Players Club

We recently took an Untapped Cities-sponsored tour of the Players Club, a members-only social club founded in 1888 by famed Shakespearean actor Edwin Booth. Booth had the unfortunate distinction of also being the brother of John Wilkes Booth, who was also an actor—one whose career was overshadowed when he became Abraham Lincoln's assassin in 1865.

The Players Club doesn't just admit actors, in fact the entire idea of the club is to allow actors to socialize with people from other professions including prominent businessmen, writers, artists and many others in art- and non-art-related fields. The long list of famous current and past residents includes Mark Twain, Kevin Spacey, Rue McClanahan, Carol Burnett, Liza Minnelli, Walter Cronkite, Ethan Hawke and Jimmy Fallon. The Players Club didn't allow women to be fully participating members until 1989.

The building is located at 16 Gramercy Park, and its interior and part of its exterior were designed by Stanford White. The Club maintains some of the last remaining gaslights in the city and is neighbors with the National Arts Club. The interior is just as fancy as you'd imagine a private arts club to be, filled with portraits of past members and stocked with treasures from the acting world, including a real human skull used by Booth in his portrayal of Hamlet and various costumes and other props.

From the beginning, Booth retained an upper floor of the club as his private residence. He lived there until his death in 1893, and the room has remained just as he left it ever since. Our tour guide was really lovely, although two people were not allowed on our tour because they were wearing shorts—apparently a violation of the strict dress code. While I do have issues with the snooty exclusivity, I do appreciate a chance to peek into a world usually so foreign to me—especially one filled with interesting people, world-class art and even a few life/death masks.

New Orleans: Lafayette Cemetery No. 1

The day after we took a tour of Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1 in New Orleans, we were wandering around the Garden District somewhat aimlessly. When we came upon Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, I was thrilled to be able to explore a Nola cemetery without the time constraints and restrictions of a guided tour. I did see people on a tour, but unlike Saint Louis Cemetery, Lafayette is open to the public.

Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 was established in 1833 as a non-denominational cemetery and is home to more than 7,000 permanent residents, approximately 1,100 family tombs and at least one friendly lizard. I enjoyed our brief tour of Saint Louis Cemetery, but I fell in love with Lafayette. I have the tendency to get overwhelmed and forget about time constraints, especially in beautiful cemeteries. I easily could have spent all day at Lafayette, but I did have to meet up with the rest of our group eventually, which was probably for the best.

I feel as if we were cheated out of seeing Marie Laveau's tomb knee-deep in offerings, so I was pleased to finally get to see some proper cemetery decorations adorning many of the tombs, including fake flowers, beads (when in Nola) and various other offerings. A lot of the grave decorations that you find in modern cemeteries seem sort of cheap to me—plastic decorations, stuffed animals, resin statues—but there's something about just being in New Orleans that gives everything a voodoo / altar-like meaning that made me instantly a fan of sun-bleached flowers and beads draped over headstones.

Like Saint Louis, Lafayette is an above-ground cemetery and while it doesn't have the Nicholas Cage pedigree, it does have a tomb for the Society for the Relief of Destitute Orphan Sons from 1894. It was used as a filming location for Interview with a Vampire and you can even by an entire mausoleum—I'm assuming the purchase price also includes the acquisition of current residents Mildred and Bobbie?

Floridian Diner

I'm frequently bemoaning the loss of the city diner—two of the six last standalone diners in Manhattan have closed/been razed in the three years I've lived here—but I manage to keep finding new-to-me diners that are complete gems. My newest obsession is the Floridian Diner, located on Flatbush Avenue in the Marine Park / Mill Basin area of Brooklyn. The funny thing is that I also live on Flatbush—6.2 miles northeast and what feels like a world away.

The Floridian Diner is almost two miles from the nearest subway station, so it feels like a place for locals (like the Goodfellas Diner). Everyone was very pleasant, but our waitress didn't quite know what to make of three people who immediately started taking a million pictures as soon as we sat down. I told her that we just really loved diners, but I don't think she believed us when we said we lived in Brooklyn.

Vintage diners tend to skew more 50s/60s in their decor, but the Floridian has a late 70s, early 80s, Golden Girls feel to it that feels different, yet works perfectly with the classic diner aesthetic. Everything is padded in teal vinyl and the dishes are rimmed in the perfect shade of salmon pink, marked with a palm tree. There were COMPACT DISC jukeboxes on every table (ours worked), and all the mirrors and planters made me feel as if we were eating in some strange version of an 80s mall.

The portions we received were huge—my egg sandwich came with four slices of thick ham and the sauces that came with the Floridian Finger Platter were comically large (that bowl of marinara was for two mozzarella sticks). Of course nothing in our diner dining future will ever compare with the moment that we discovered that the Floridian has a filet and lobster combo called"Beef & Reef," with which it solidly cemented itself as one of my very favorite New York diners.

Buffalo: Frank Lloyd Wright

I was surprised on our recent trip to Buffalo to learn that the city has the highest concentration of Frank Lloyd Wright buildings outside of Oak Park in Chicago. A few of them have sadly been demolished over the years—including one of his first commercial commissions, the Larkin Administration Building. Darwin Martin was an executive at the Larkin Soap company, and in addition to the administration building, he commissioned Wright to build two houses in Buffalo—a primary residence, and a vacation home on Lake Erie.

The Martin House complex comprises multiple structures, including a main house connected via pergola to a conservatory, carriage house with chauffeur's quarters and stables, gardener's cottage and the Barton House, which was built for Martin's sister. All of these are done in Wright's Prairie style of architecture and are considered to be some of his best examples of this style.

Before the house was designated as a landmark in 1986, it was in a sorry state of disrepair, and three of the original buildings were demolished (they have since been expertly rebuilt). There is still ongoing restoration work, especially in some of the interiors, but it's a beautiful, sprawling complex that seems just as visionary and modern today as it must have felt when it was built in the early 1900s.

The Greycliff Estate was the Martins' summer home, and is in an earlier state of the restoration process than the Martin House. Most of the interior is gutted, and after the Martins died their family sold the house to the Piarist Fathers, an order of Roman Catholic Priests from Hungary. The lakefront backyard has fallen victim to a receding shoreline, but it's not hard to see why the Martins were smitten with the view.

Greycliff reminded me somewhat of Falling Water and Kentuck Knob in its connection and consideration of the surrounding landscape. You can see that even in the 1920s Wright had begun to experiment with his corners of glass that he would perfect for Falling Water.

Of course everyone knows FLW for his houses and commercial structures, but I had no idea until our trip that he also designed a mausoleum. The Blue Sky Mausoleum was the last of four Martin commissions. It was conceived between 1925-1928, but wasn't built when Darwin Martin died in 1935. In 2004, Forest Lawn Cemetery finally realized Wright's vision with help from his notes, drawings and a Wright-trained architect.

Like most things Wright designed, the mausoleum is not a traditional "box" structure, but instead is integrated into the sloping landscape. It appears as if only two people are currently housed in the mausoleum, which includes twenty-four, double-tier crypts. After having a transformative experience at Falling Water, I wasn't sure it was possible to respect FLW's portfolio any more, but finding out that he dipped his toe into the world of cemetery architecture definitely makes me even more of a fan.*

EDIT* I had no idea when I posted this that today is FLW's 149th birthday - HBD FLW!

Fort Tilden: Abandoned

On Memorial Day weekend, my dude and I decided to (mostly) stay in the city, which ended up being a wonderful decision. I hate the word "staycation" so I won't call it that, but I love that I can usually satisfy even the severest case of wanderlust without ever leaving the five boroughs. We chose to go to Fort Tilden because it satisfied our holiday weekend beach requirement, in addition to providing some wonderful history and an excellent crop of abandoned structures.

Fort Tilden is a former US Army post, located on the Rockaway Peninsula in Queens. We biked there once before, but this time we took a bus, which took about an hour from Brooklyn. Like Floyd Bennett, Fort Tilden is now a part of the Gateway National Recreation Area, controlled by the National Park Service.

Before we even got to the beach I declared it my "favorite beach excursion ever" because we spent the first half of our day exploring the various abandoned military structures that line the pathway to the beach. We couldn't quite figure out what the structures were originally used for, but we guess that they might have been storage facilities for ammunition and supplies. We saw several of the same type of building, each with garage doors at either end, raised sides and wooden rails that probably held racks of some sort.

The buildings are in such a lovely state of decay, with trees growing up through cracks in the cement, creeping vines creeping every which way, and rusty beams that look as if they're going to snap at any moment. There was some evidence that these structures might be popular places to hang out—chairs, beer cans, a package of honey buns—but we barely saw anyone the entire time we were exploring.

The structures basically function now as open-air graffiti galleries, and it seemed the closer we got to the beach, the better the art became. There were some really wonderful pieces and the contrast between the colorful murals, rusty metals, crumbling ceilings and lush greenery was everything my nascent, urban-explorer heart desired. I knew there were ruins at Fort Tilden, but the few buildings that we explored really exceeded all of my expectations—and quickly made Fort Tilden one of my very favorite places.

New Orleans: Neon

The first thing I noticed while walking down Bourbon Street for the first time (on our way to the perfect Clover Grill) was the plethora of wonderful neon signs. I didn't know much about New Orleans before we went, but of course I'd heard of Bourbon Street and its 24/7 party vibe. That translates into a lot of neon—old and new, on and around Bourbon—and I loved it all.

Bourbon Street is basically the Times Square of New Orleans, but I have zero problem being unabashedly touristy when it's my first time visiting a city. Our hotel was located in the Central Business District, so to get anywhere in the French Quarter it was easiest to take a stroll down Bourbon. The street was so named to honor France's ruling family at the time, The House of Bourbon, and not because of the large concentration of bars that reside there—in fact Bourbon Street was a prime residential location prior to 1900.

After taking a storefront tour recently—where it was explained that maintaining neon signs is a very labor intensive and expensive process—I have a renewed appreciation for their beauty. From strip clubs, bars and daiquiri windows, to restaurants, pharmacies and gift shops, neon is somehow always the right choice.

Floyd Bennett Field: Abandoned

My dude and I recently biked out to Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn. I had visited FBF once before, but we were walking and exhausted after exploring Dead Horse Bay, so we didn't get too far. Floyd Bennett was New York City's first municipal airport. Before JFK and third-world-country LaGuardia came into existence, Amelia Earhart and Howard Hughes were using Floyd Bennett's runways to break records.

FBF is sprawling, as you'd expect an airport to be, and is much better suited to biking than it is to walking. I was already tired and grumpy from our 12-mile ride by the time we arrived, but nothing gives me life like a good abandoned building—luckily, Floyd Bennett has its fair share of good ones. In addition to its life as a airfield, FBF has been home to the Coast Guard and a naval station—today it's controlled by the National Parks Service, as part of the Gateway National Recreation Area.

We came across several abandoned buildings as we rode further into the complex, but I only had the energy to really creep on a few. We didn't go inside of any, and some looked structurally unsafe, but just seeing all of these crumbling structures being overtaken by crawling vines and trees was a thrill. The fact that we couldn't exactly figure out what the buildings had been used for—military dorm housing maybe?—only added to the mystery.

One of the complexes included a picnic area and basketball courts, which made it seem as if we'd wandered into a post-apocalyptic neighborhood where all the inhabitants have suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. Sidewalks were cracked, windows were shattered, doors boarded up, stairs led to nowhere and it was hard to believe that we were still in present-day Brooklyn.

Queens Walk

About a month ago, my friends and I took a long, rambling walk through Queens to eventually eat lunch at the Goodfellas Diner. We stumbled upon a delightfully vintage Carvel ice cream shop and so many wonderful storefronts, signage and neighborhoods that we would have never known about had we taken the bus or train.

We made a slight detour to stop at Rudy's Pastry shop, a German-American bakery which has been in Ridgewood since 1934. It had been on my radar for a while, but it was a great place to stop halfway along our journey. We got some treats and admired their wooden display cases, beautiful handpainted signage and large spools of baker's twine hanging from the ceiling.

Ridgewood has been hailed as an "affordable alternative" to more trendy places like Williamsburg and Greenpoint, and I can definitely see why. We walked past some wonderful shops, cute single-family houses and a lot of Polish, German and other eastern-European restaurants. I love finding places in New York that really feel authentic, in a way that can only be created over time and with the right mix of people and ethnicities.

The Goodfellas Diner is located in Maspeth, which is more industrial than Ridgewood, and after lunch we continued north into Woodside where we eventually caught a train. Queens is home to so many excellent cemeteries (and World's Fair history!) that I was already destined to spend a great deal of time there, but this walk only strengthened my love for New York's largest—but often-underrated— borough.

New Orleans: St. Louis Cemetery No.1

St. Louis Cemetery No.1 is the oldest and most famous of the three St. Louis Roman Catholic cemeteries in New Orleans. It opened in 1798, also making it one of the oldest cemeteries I've ever toured. The cemetery is small and very compact, housing thousands of permanent residents in just one square block.

New Orleans is famous for its above-ground burials, and all of the Catholic tombs in St. Louis are above-ground. Most people think it's because of the high water table, which is only partially true. Vault and tomb burials are most likely traditions brought over from Spain, and most modern-day burials in New Orleans are done below ground.

In 2015, St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 was closed to visitors not accompanied by a tour guide, due to alleged vandalism. This means that you now have to pay to take a tour, which is kind of a bummer. We took a wonderful 3+ hour general tour of the French Quarter that included the cemetery, but no tour will never spend as much time in a cemetery as I would if I was on my own. I'm all for preserving the place, but I do wish I had been able to spend more time poking around.

Notable (alleged) residents include voodoo priestess Marie Laveau and notorious slave-torturer (and former resident of the now-haunted LaLaurie Mansion) Delphine LaLaurie. When the cemetery was open to the public, Marie Laveau's tomb used to be covered in offerings—which I would have loved to see—but when we went it was scrubbed clean.

Of course fact is always stranger than fiction, and it's hard not to love the fact that Nicholas Cage has already purchased a mausoleum for himself—a stark, white pyramid, that our tour guide said was frequently covered in lipstick kisses, but unfortunately it too had been recently cleaned.

I was really overwhelmed with my first foray into the New Orleans cemetery scene, and like I said, I just wish we had spent more time exploring. I had been looking forward to seeing the cemeteries and I knew they would be so unlike the ones we have up north, but they still managed to exceed my expectations. Later in the trip we stumbled upon another cemetery that we were free to roam and that satiated my cemetery obsession a bit better, but I'm hoping I have a chance to go back soon and explore them even further.

Niagara Wax Museum of History

On our recent trip to Buffalo, we had decided to make a side trip to Niagara Falls. We initially discussed going to the Canadian side, but one of us had an expired passport and I had already found some kitschy things to do on the American side so I was content to stay in the homeland. After we ogled the Twist o' the Mist, we headed to Niagara's Wax Museum of History.

In my research I had read that most of the exhibits in the museum date from 1968—when the museum opened—which some people might call "outdated" but I couldn't have been happier to find that to be a mostly true assessment. We were greeted at the front desk by the same miner who told my fortune at Howe Caverns, and what I'm assuming is a moving picture of the Falls (it wasn't plugged in).

The museum was everything I wanted it to be from the very beginning—weird, old, dusty, creepy, historical, informative and dimly lit. The group of teens that entered right behind us didn't share my enthusiasm, however, and clearly thought they were going to see a wax museum more in the vein of Madame Tussaud's. I heard one of them exclaim loudly "What is this?? I thought there was gonna be, like, Obama and shit," before they rushed ahead of us and we never saw them again.

A lot of the exhibits were a bit of a head scratcher but ultimately made us laugh and made me love the museum so very much. I don't think the group of disgruntled/confused teens ever made it far enough to see that they did actually have "celebrities," including (a very manly) Princess Diana, Julia Roberts and Mother Theresa, chosen for their very tenuous connections to the falls (they either visited or exemplified the beauty and grace of the falls... or more likely they got these particular wax figures on sale).

The other exhibit that we're still chuckling about is the recreation of the barber shop (and the actual chair!) where Abraham Lincoln "received tonsorial work" when he visited the Falls. The museum was full of disconnected exhibits that didn't really make sense or follow any sort of logical thread, which was really wonderful in its own way.

We definitely got more than our money's worth—46 (exciting!) exhibits in more than 10,000 sq feet for only $7/person. I get so much more joy from a dusty, bizarre old wax museum than I ever would from anything utilizing any type of new technology. Give me a handpainted sign, bad puns, exclamation points, creaking gears and creepy dioramas over anything digital any day.

But the museum definitely saves the best for last with what may be the very best photo-op I've ever encountered. I became mildly obsessed with the photo of "Former Mayor Mike O'Laughlin saying: 'See You Later' on a simulated trip over Niagara Falls" in their collection of Falls memorabilia, and I audibly squealed with delight upon finding that exact same barrel-over-the-falls prop set up before the exit. According to Roadside America, the barrel "once stood in an outdoor photo-for-a-buck booth on the Falls overlook. The museum rescued it before the city could sweep it away..." and I couldn't be happier that they did.

New Orleans: Clover Grill

Last weekend I accompanied six wonderful women to New Orleans to celebrate our friend Francesca's upcoming birthday. For months before we left, we rounded up tons of recommendations and made a Google map that contained far more bars, restaurants, shops, historic homes and cemeteries than we could see in three days. We did, however, manage to make quite a dent, starting with Clover Grill.

After checking in to our hotel (the brand-new and always-lovely Ace) we were ready for lunch and decided upon the Clover Grill. Clover Grill has been open 24 hours on Bourbon Street since 1934. It's tiny, and very pink inside with a row of counter stools and a few tables. I love all of the handpainted signage and the front window, which showcases diner diners in a very Edward Hopper-esque way, especially at night.

The menu is filled with puns and commentary such as "If you are not served in 5 minutes, relax, it may be another 5. This is not New York City." As any respectable diner should, they have 24-hour breakfast, but I ordered one of the "world famous" burgers and was not disappointed. I am generally wary of diner meats (bacon excluded) but I'm not exaggerating when I say this was one of the best burgers I've had, period. The burgers are steamed on the grill under a hubcab and topped with a slice of cheese almost as thick as the burger itself.

Our server was really helpful, nice and funny and I lost track of how many times I commented that "this place is literally perfect," or "I'm so happy right now," during our lunch. Clover Grill was the perfect start to our wonderful weekend and very much like the city itself—delicious, friendly and covered in just the right amount of grime.

Bayside Cemetery

I came across Bayside Cemetery recently in some corner of the Internet, where it was mentioned that the Queens cemetery had fallen into disrepair to the point where people were complaining about exposed human remains. This information was somewhat outdated, and the cemetery has since been cleaned up a bit, but I still thought it was worth visiting so my friend Tag and I went to check it out recently on a partly gloomy Sunday morning.

Abandoned (or abandoned-ish) cemeteries are touchy things—on the one hand, I love anything creepy, crumbling and overgrown, but on the other hand I can understand why family members would be upset to see the final resting places of their loved ones fall into disrepair. I think everyone deserves a dignified end (and eternal resting place, if that's your thing), but I haven't come across many cemeteries that aren't very well tended to, so the minute we stepped into Bayside it felt special.

Bayside—along with neighboring Acacia and Mokom Sholom cemeteries—was founded in Queens in 1865, and is one of the oldest still-active Jewish cemeteries in the city. Cemetery residents include multiple Civil War veterans and one victim from the Titanic. Most of the graves are quite old, but we did eventually find some from the 90s and 2000s.

Some areas of the cemetery were more tended to than others, and I can see how it probably used to be a lot worse. A lot of the mausoleums were boarded, bricked or cemented shut, while some had doors that swung open freely. We didn't come across any graffiti or noticeable vandalism, but a lot of stones had fallen off their pedestals or had been broken by trees and covered with leaves, fallen branches and ivy. The main office was boarded up and obviously hadn't been in use for a while, but we did see two men tending to the grounds as we were leaving, and the gate was open for visitors.

I lost count of how many times I exclaimed how much I loved Bayside during our time walking through the overgrown weeds, and I wouldn't hesitate to declare it one of my very favorite places in the city. I bet it's incredible in the snow or in the fall and I already started dreaming about my return before we had even left.

First Avenue: 1st - 34th Streets

I've always been obsessed with storefronts, and living in New York has only amplified my love of a great neon sign, classic typography and anything that looks remotely old. I've recently been trying to be conscious of capturing some of the wonderful signs and storefronts that I see, before they're gone forever.

I recently had a wandering Sunday that I was content to spend taking photos, so I decided to narrow my focus to First Avenue. I started my walk at the southern beginning of First (at Houston) and walked north until 34th Street. It wasn't a huge walk by my standards, but I have a tendency to overdo things, so taking it slow and exploring a small slice of Manhattan was a nice change.

I know I'm always moaning about the changing city, about diners being demolishedand soulless luxury condos rising in their place, but there is still a surprising number of wonderful, authentic and old businesses in the city. Of course these too seem to be disappearing at an alarming rate, but there are still charming things to find if you look hard enough, even in the most desirable parts of Manhattan.

I would love to keep taking these mini-adventures—no matter how long I live here I think I'll still keep finding new-to-me places that instantly transport me to the "old New York." Of course what I think of as the "old New York" probably never really existed in the way that I'm imagining, but these places also remind me that "new New York" is still pretty extraordinary.