by Paula D.
on June 22, 2023 6:29 am in Community
I texted my father right away when I saw the Child of Prague appeared at the far end of the path in my garden. He said, “Paula, this is a gift from God!” I said, “Dad, it is actually a gift from my friend Teresa.”
Tony’s on Knickerbocker Avenue* is Teresa Farrell’s favorite pizza joint in the city. She wears an Italian horn around her neck, so obviously she knows what the deal is. Above the dough-making counter sits a precious, 17 inch, flamboyantly dressed Child of Prague statue. Sometimes, Teresa and I interchange the figure’s given name with “The Child of Pizza.”
After Teresa took me to Tony’s a couple of months ago, she generously gave me a one inch Infant Child of Prague to commemorate our evening. He lives in my kitchen, just like the one at Tony’s. For that reason, when the “larger” statue appeared in my garden, I had a premonition that it was set forth by Teresa, not God… Six of one?
My Father called me shortly after I shared the exciting news about the sanctified presence. He said receiving this statue is a very special blessing, especially since it was found in my garden. The Irish place the Child of Prague outside a brides home before her wedding, to ensure a sunny day. I’m not sure how this applies to me, but I like sunshine, and the sun makes tomato plants pop, so there’s that.
The physical significance of the King Child’s smallness reminds us of the fragility of humanity. It calls us to be humble; to practice humility and through our days, express sincerity to our neighbors.
I asked my father if I should leave the Infant Child in the garden even though he is made of plaster and he’s wearing satin. I feel the garden is where Teresa and God wants him to be. Dad became alarmed! He said, “Bring the delicate child inside!” In an effort to convince me, he continued, “Jesus’ red cloak will match your kitchen. He’ll look nice on top of your refrigerator.” I can’t decide what to do. As of now, he lives outside in the garden but I take him inside when it rains.
People around town, in the know, know about the holy dumpster. The container in Rockaway Beach was filled with hundreds of Catholic relics. The treasure trove is a mystery, and so, the chosen ones, recognized the dumpster as a divine community gift, filled with miracles. This is where my Child of Prague emerged from. The significance of its dumpster origin is mind-blowing actually.
Why? In the 17th century, during the Thirty Years’ War, after the Saxon’s left Prague in plundered, the holy statue – said to have belonged to the Spanish mystic Teresa of Ávila – was rediscovered in the monastery by monks, in a pile of trash. The figure’s hand was broken. Today, it is very common and accepted that The Child of Prague is displayed with broken parts, as mine lives.
Pray to the Blessed Child of Prague when you feel shattered. Offer prayers for children who are victims of violence or abuse and for broken families and relationships. Seek hope from the Infant Jesus for people struggling financially and for those who are emotionally or spiritually impoverished and for people who suffer social injustices.
January 14 is the Feast of the Infant Jesus of Prague which celebrates the mystery of the Incarnation.
*There are two Tony’s on Knickerbocker Ave. (So New York) Go to the one on the corner, with the blessed pizza.
It was the day after the “apocalypse.” The dangerous air quality conditions from the Canadian wildfires cleared. It was safe to breathe the air again. I went outside to check if the backyard garden needed watering, but I was distracted by a “honking” nose. I looked towards the sky and there, I saw a flying dinosaur! It launched from the roof of my neighbor’s house into the towering tree of heaven in the corner of my yard. It landed on a long branch, settling in next to its lover.
A Heron perched at Jamaica Bay, spring 2020. Photo by Bridget Klapinski
I was thrilled to witness this beautiful nature moment! But what was I looking at? I googled “dinosaur-like bird with black and white feathered wings, Northeast.” Nada. I posted a blurry in-flight photo on Instagram for identification help. Within minutes, my birder friend Bridget responded, “Yellow-crowned night-herons!”
Bridget explained that normally you see herons living on the bayside and in Jamaica Bay, where they feed on brackish shellfish. But she added that it’s not uncommon to see this bird in tall trees near marshlands. There was a pair nesting in a tree by Connolly’s last season, she recalled.
I spent some time with my visitors. Their goose-like bodies were covered in shades of gray, with specs of white-striped feathers. Their lanky orange limbs and darting eyes felt prehistoric. The heads were boldly black and white. I witnessed a sudden “poof” of beautiful, light orange plumes popping from one’s crown! The fowl’s movements were awkward. The bird’s neck extended slowly. Their bodies appeared too large and out of place on the wobbly branch they took rest on.
Then things got strange…er. I heard loud, incessant bird chatter. I looked at the herons. They were chill. They didn’t seem to be the source of the egregious sounds. I investigated the whole backyard. I popped my head over fences. I went inside and looked out my window at my neighbor’s tree… nothing. I went back outside and sensed the squawking in question was coming from the apartment building behind my house.
A few hours passed, and I started to receive a slew of texts from my neighbors about the noise (they saw my Instagram post). But I told them, “It’s not my yellow-crowned night-herons!” Now I was fielding messages about the egregious bird calls all day. 91st Street was dumbfounded and theories unfolded… “It’s a cockatoo in the building across the street;” “The air quality is back to normal, and the birds are poorly singing praise;” “Nesting birds nearby are sounding alarms due to the heron visit.”
The situation went from “nature’s gift” to “Someone needs to take these birds out.*” The chirping became unbearable for all on 91st Street. Confused and tired, we hoped it would end at nightfall and we’d wake up to silence.
The neighbors investigating the exceptionally loud, perplexing bird sounds.
But that’s not what happened. “I can’t take another day!” I’d thought. I escaped and headed to Washed Up Cafe. The bird noise theories continued over coffee. I brought the group back to my house to investigate in person. My neighbor Fredrico pointed to a miniature chokecherry tree in the courtyard across the way. “It sounds repetitive,” he said. “It’s coming from that tree!” I glanced at birder Bridget. Her mind was churning…“It’s a recording!” We spotted a green box on the chokecherry. Unbelievable! The sound was emanating from an automated, electronic bird caller. We believe it was installed to repel birds, yet it didn’t seem to phase the herons. The mechanism was disabled, and all was restored to a peaceful, natural state.
The next day, I saw the herons pull twigs from the tree and place them quite particularly on the limb they have been occupying. DFD’s? I don’t think so. It seems they may be nesting for the summer!
*Birdbrains, note this is a joke! In fact, yellow-crowned night-herons are defined as a Protected Bird by New York State law, and the species may not be hunted, harmed nor taken out at any time.
My first session with my new 8’4 Faktion shaped by Hawk, at Beach 90th (Rockaway Beach)
I’ve been long-term borrowing an 8’0 Torq. I’ve learned so much on it this past year. I really like how it rides. I have a sentimental connection with it, but I’ve been drifting towards a change…
I put the word out and my friend saw a board for sale on Instagram that looked like a fit for me. Strictly Surf (@strickly_surf) is three hours out in Amagansett, Long Island. We contacted the shop and a dude started texting us video and pictures. It’s 8’0, almost 22” wide. The volume wasn’t listed but my diligent friend and newly appointed board agent Kaori said it’s not full but enough volume. It has a square tail and adequate rocker. And it’s a Faktion, shaped by Hawk, so that’s rad.
Bob ‘Hawk’ Hawkins was a pioneer East Coast shaper making his first board in 1957 out of styrofoam, which he embedded a stringer into, then coated with epoxy resin. He was a Long Island native…just like me! He shaped out of his shop in Massapequa and Halesite, his hometown near Huntington. Sporadically throughout his career he shaped for other outlets, like Faktion. The surfing legend passed away only last year on December 5th, 2022 and since, his beautiful boards have become even more revered.
The question for Kaori and I at this point was, do we drive three hours to see the Faktion in person… It’s the only way to really know, aside from getting it in the water. I’m told if you find a board you feel will work, act fast. I gave myself a day to think about it.
In the meantime, I popped into Station (91-08 B Rockaway Beach Blvd.) to grab wax and you’re not going to believe this… there was an 8’4 Faktion… shaped by Hawk. Besides the color, length and some variation in volume, the major difference was the tail shape. The board at Station was a pin tail (better for barrels bruh). The board out east was a square tail – stability, better for beginners? There are endless variables when it comes to board shapes and performance. Then there’s your skill level and conditions to take into account. I was completely overwhelmed and had no idea what to do. My brain was barreled.
That day ended up going from good to terrible. I was in the worst mood for various reasons – I’ll spare you. I’m lying in bed at 5pm lamenting on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Then I was like, F**K IT. I went to Station, didn’t ask any more questions, bought the Faktion and walked out the door.
Both handcrafted on Long Island.
The next morning it was small – knee to waist high. I took out my new board and caught the most rides I ever have in one session. I was in the water for three hours. My board agent paddled out at some point and we were all smiles. She gave me helpful guidance. I told her the board felt really, really good. The only problem was a strange sensation of movement after I popped up. I felt like I was twirling around on the wave. Kaori said, “Paula, that’s what turning feels like!”
Follow my surfing journey on IG @theglorifiedtomato and visit theglorifiedtomato.com for all things Rockaway, on land and in the sea.
I learned how to properly wax a board.
by Paula D.
on June 6, 2023 8:21 am in Surf
It was my first time in the water alone. I’d been surfing for a couple of months at this point. Kristi, my surf coach, felt I was ready. It was 1-2 feet, about eight seconds apart, and clean. I was at 91 on my borrowed Wavestorm, drifting out of the lineup with the offshore wind.
The early morning summer sun on my face was just right. I felt free and independent. But I wasn’t alone. There was a dolphin! A moment later there was another. Then, I see 10 dolphins and they’re 15 feet away. I brace the rails of my foamy. I’m exhilarated and a little scared. But then the unimaginable… I’m surrounded by a pod of 20-plus dolphins. They’re playing, and jumping all around me …I swear on the Blessed Mother.
I noticed other surfers were pointing in my direction. Out of the lineup, I’m the only one immersed in the creatures. One came so close I saw her teeth. I swear her eyes locked on mine. We think cute, pink dolphins on retro tee shirts or sparkly stuffed animal dolphins… I’ll tell you, seeing a dolphin up close is a little different. Her teeth were many, yellowed, and sharp. I saw the scars on her thick-skinned body that revealed her age, fearlessness, and her life of travels in the sea. She wasn’t pink, fluffy, or glittered; she was more beautiful than that.
The meeting was magic—a gift to me at a time when I needed the dolphins’ playful joy. I truly can’t put this experience into proper words.
With my sandy wetsuit still on, I grab my phone in the bedroom. I went to text Kristi, but there was already a message from her… “Are you ok??? You were surrounded.” Kristi, after she left me in the water, turned to check on me and saw my dolphin encounter. “Yes, I’m great!! It was unbelievable!!” Later we spoke. She said she was so nervous and felt responsible as my coach! While dolphins are friendly beings, they’re also about 9 feet long and have 500 pounds of solid muscle. If you accidentally get bumped… it would be a thing. I told her, after my initial shock, I felt strangely calm and safe.
This week is my one year surfing anniversary! I’m recalling the many special moments I’ve had…
Another awesome time was the impromptu 15-person swim. It was flat (I learned the perfect day for a paddle). Simon (@chardietsimon) was on the boardwalk. He invited a bunch of us to go along with his group of swimmers. “It’s good to have boards for safety,” he said. We had so many laughs. We helped swimmers take a little rest on our boards. What fun! My arms and shoulders were crazy sore. Days like that you can’t recreate.
I learned people talk about all sorts of things in the water besides surfing. Lots of food talk, ehem.. the new breakfast burrito at Washed Up (@washedup.nyc); lots of boy talk and dating; convos about tie-dye parties and Wild Yak shows; secrets shared; chats about cute spring suits on sale and sunblock debates. I learned it’s not rude to stop mid-conversation, turn and catch a wave. Waves come first.
This year I took lessons with @seasons_surf_NYC. Practicing the fundamentals from a pro helped tremendously.
In January, I traveled to Puerto Rico for my first surf trip—a Rockaway Surfer’s rite of passage. There I surfed my first reef break and banged up my knee!
People switch boards in the water for fun and I have Rebecca Parker (rockawayacupucture.com) to thank for letting me try hers. I caught my first hardtop ride on her 9-foot hot pink board and since then, I haven’t turned back!
Two weeks ago I dropped in on my friend and got into my first collision, but it’s okay! It was a small closeout day. We were far apart so I decided to take the same wave. Magara angled down the line (the only way to catch a closeout, I know that now). I was a deer in headlights! “Cover your head.” I remembered. We didn’t get hurt! Nigel is fixing my ding and Magara’s solid 9-foot-6 Paul Surf is unscathed. Big learning moment though—never let your guard down, especially on those chilly days.
I continue to meet rad people in the water and they’re all cheering me on. I’ve made some special connections with people that are now my dear friends. This is just year one. How will my life as a surfer grow? I’m excited to see where the next wave takes me…
