Stacy Horn

You know how they say you should walk 10,000 steps a day? I always figured I must be walking that much every day, at least. Many years ago I decided to stop taking the subway and to walk everywhere I go. This isn’t as big a deal as it sounds, I don’t usually go all that far, but I walk even if I’m going to the Met (way, way uptown, like 80 blocks away, plus I have to head east).

I didn’t walk to my appointment at Mt. Sinai yesterday (101st Street and Madison) because I would have had to start walking too early in order to make it on time. And, when I was walking home afterwards, I got on the subway at 42nd Street. I was tired.

Even with cutting my walk short though, it was a ton of walking. Maybe an hour and a half of walking? Out of curiosity, I just calculated exactly how much walking I did yesterday, all told, and it came to 5.5 miles. How many steps was that? I just looked. For most people, a mile = 2,000 steps. So I made my 10,000. But the thing is, that was not a normal walking day for me. I figure on most days I walk around 2 or 3 miles. The website I looked at called that sedentary. You gotta be kidding me. On what planet??

I took this when I got on the subway. These are all the people who, like me, are going to die young due to our sedentary life styles. Those people who are sitting can just forget about it. Oh my god, I just noticed, there are no older people in this picture.

This was probably about two hours ago, so the white smoke hadn’t risen yet, but the media was poised and ready. The crowds going in and out of the church were pretty light, however.

The church is surrounded by these trucks with satellite dishes.

Apparently this place serves burgers in Heaven. Pretty cool job, making deliveries to Heaven. Damnit. I’m such an idiot. I should have followed him to learn where it is.

… get me the opposite of down. They’re like snow days to me. All work-bets are off. I was going to walk down to the Municipal Archives and get some research done, but I’d get wet and we can’t have that. Oh! Is it too late to get in a movie? Okay, I’m exaggerating, there’s plenty of work I can do right here. Like dig into this book proposal I’m working on. Still, it’s cosy to work here when it’s this wet outside. It feels less like work.

Saturday I walked around with the only purpose of enjoying the day and taking pictures. Here I watched the chess players for a while. These two were my favorite chess pair.

I was raised to say “Excuse me” if you got in someone’s way, or accidentally bumped into them, or any one of a number of minor situations where you’ve momentarily inconvenienced another person. I seem to be one of the few people who still does this, and no one ever acknowledges it with a word or a nod or smile or anything. It’s fine, I’m a throwback. Most of the time no acknowledgement is needed, really.

But yesterday when I walked through this shoot, trying to walk by quickly so as not to get in the way with whatever they were doing, I said excuse me and the guy in the hat said “Not at all.” Or something like that. It was nice.

When I come across buildings like the one below at 392-393 West Street (along the Hudson River, between Christopher and 10th Streets) which used to be many things, but mostly a saloon, I try to imagine what it might be like to walk through the door and into the 19th century. The clientele was probably pretty scary back then. When I first moved here my neighborhood still had the remnants of the kind of people who lived here before it became gentrified and it was pretty rough trade. The closest AA meeting was filled with aging sailors who yelled and cursed at me whenever I spoke (I didn’t follow the AA rules).

For the longest time the people who lived in my building for instance, were strictly working class—sailors, barmaids, but also actors, artists, students—and it was like that up until the 60’s and 70’s. When I moved in (early 80’s) it still had something of that feel. God I’d love to walk down the streets I walk down every day but at different points in time. I’d visit all the famous and infamous spots, eat in an oyster bar, fake having a drink in a saloon (I’m an alcoholic, can’t drink), dance in a dance hall, swim in the Hudson.

I always think practical things when I have these kinds of daydreams, like “You should hide all your electronics,” but also “Try to sneak a picture.” I worry about what to do about how I’m dressed. How do I explain my jeans? Plastic? If I think too much though, problems inevitably arise and I decide that if time travel ever happens I’m sticking with the future. Because at some point I think about all the great events I could witness and that leads to the terrible events I should try to prevent, and other things like, “Should I tell Frederick Douglass about Barack Obama?” Actually, in these daydreams it’s the racists I want to tell about Barack Obama. “Hey bigot, I’ve got some news for you.”

This is 392-393 West Street in 1920, when it was Billie’s Clam Broth House (I found the picture at the Museum of the City of New York). This was during prohibition and the owner was being creative. It’s actually a tiny building, those signs are sitting on top, there’s nothing behind them.

This is 392-393 West Street now (the small wooden building with the blue and white awning). I’m always amazed at how much is the same. For more background about the building try, Daytonian in Manhattan. For the most thorough history of all, here is the New York City’s Landmark Commission’s report.

Here’s a closer view. It’s in sad shape, so of course it’s attractive to me. I want to fix it up and live there. A view from behind, on Weehawken Street follows.