Stacy Horn

I just remembered, when I was in my twenties I went through a period of having severe anxiety attacks. One therapist told me to think of place that was the safest, calmest, happiest place I could imagine and to go there whenever I felt anxious.

What I imagined was this: swimming in a very tropical setting. I actually got the idea from a neighbor’s pool where I had grown up. They dug out a pool on the edge of their woods, and then they put even more flowers and plants around it. So when you swam in their pool you were practically surrounded by trees and vegetation. It was really lovely.

I simply took that further and imagined myself swimming in a body of water that may not even exist, it was kinda like a quiet river, but in the tropics with large, colorful flowers, and great big lush greenery all around. Whenever I got scared I would just swim lazily along, looking around at this magical scenery around me.

It’s interesting that I chose swimming, of all the possible places I could have put myself. But swimming is good for anxiety, in reality. Like almost any physical activity. The abundance of nature was key to the comforting aspects of the fantasy, though.

From last week, when I was sitting in front of the laundry, watching dogs go by.

Because the world can’t have enough pictures of my cats. I just opened an Instagram account, but now I have to get back to work writing so I haven’t experimented with uploading a photograph yet. But I had to choose the username stacymhorn because stacyhorn was already taken. Imposter!

As some of you know, I’m working on a book about Blackwell’s Island, which was the name for Roosevelt Island in the 19th Century. They also called the island Welfare Island from 1921 – 1971, because back then welfare was not a dirty word. The word was associated with compassion, and looking out for your fellow man/woman. This doesn’t mean that people didn’t despise the poor back then, they did (not everyone of course).

The pillars pictured below are all that is left of the Hospital, except I am having a hell of a time tracing the history of this hospital. It started out as the Penitentiary Hospital, then it became the Island Hospital, presumably because it wasn’t for inmates alone, then Charity Hospital, and finally City Hospital.

It’s unclear to me though if Charity Hospital and City Hospital were the same building. There are contradictory records. Historians don’t agree.

Anyway, I just came across a terribly upsetting story involving Charity Hospital. I can barely read about it much less write about it. We shall see if it makes it into my book!

The thing is, I’m not going to be in any part of town the Pope is going to be in. And I’m feeling kinda lazy. My choices:

8:30 a.m. Visit to the United Nations and Address to the United Nations General Assembly. (I slept late and was feeding the cats and sitting down to coffee. Where I am remain.)

11:30 a.m. Multi-religious service at 9/11 Memorial and Museum, World Trade Center. (I’ll be on my way to meeting my friends for lunch.)

4 p.m. Visit to Our Lady Queen of Angels School, East Harlem. (I’ll be sitting at my computer thinking, ‘That’s a lot of subway stops away.’)

5 p.m. Procession through Central Park. (You need to have gotten a ticket, which of course I didn’t do. But it might be fun to be on the periphery, watching the crowds and being part of the excitement.)

6 p.m. Mass at Madison Square Garden. (Invitation only, but there were will also be thousands of people in the area, hoping to get a glimpse and this is even closer to me.)

A picture of my group at the VR Hackathon I participated in this summer. I’m always the teeniest. Anyway, I love my group. Can’t you just tell they’re all great??

I admit it. I’m getting a little caught up in the visit of Pope Francis. Maybe I’ll try to catch a glimpse on Friday. That reminds me! I was there when Pope John Paul came to Boston in 1979 and I got a picture of him. What on earth did I do with that??

I should remember, whenever I’m agonizing about all the animals I can’t have, that I have this face to come home to. Hello little man.