Manhattan- The city and boy that never sleep.

I hadn’t seen anything like it before. Tucked neatly within a small bend of the lake was an area where the choppy water had turned to glass, speckled with small lily pads and large white flowers. Only the soft slosh of water could be heard as my paddle lightly pushed me along. The lily pads made a perfect anchor- holding me tightly in that tranquil glassy scene. I opted to rest for a moment. Seldom do we cross paths with a scene such as this, and often we are quick to pass by without a second glance. I thought I’d stop for not only a second glance- but a third, fourth, and fifth one as well. I leaned back and propped by legs up over the front of the kayak, leaning back into the backrest. I couldn’t help but think, if there’s beauty like this here on Earth, I cannot even fathom what heaven will be like.

Somewhere between thoughts of heaven and that beautiful scene I was blessed to be a part of, I couldn’t help but think of the intense contrast between tranquility and chaos that I had experienced within the past couple days. This small peaceful lake was as far of an opposite as I could conjure in my mind to the hectic lifestyle of Manhattan. Only hours before I was buried deep within that concrete forest, with the constant blare of horns and shuffle of feet that surrounded me, and now nothing more than the occasional sound of wind brushing the tops of the trees was heard. The contrast between black and white that was so thick in my thoughts seemed to lead me to think about that temple I had spent the last couple days visiting.

Those that have had the opportunity to visit the Manhattan temple have surely felt the stunning contrast between the world and heaven as they make their way into that building. Heaven and Earth stand only several feet apart in Manhattan.

From the minute you enter into the temple on Columbus Avenue, you can no longer hear the frustrated horns and sirens on the street. You cannot hear the busy shuffle of feet. The world instantly disappears and you walk into silence and peace. In order to effectively block the sound of the city from the interior of the temple, they had to become somewhat creative. A wall alone would not retain the sound, just as twelve stories and thick cement could not hide the sounds of urbanity from the apartment where I stayed the nights while I was there. The temple was constructed with two walls, one placed about a foot inside the other. The gap between the two walls was packed with insulation in order to help block the sound waves from making their way from outside to the temple. It proved effective. The Manhattan temple is a live model of the life we can make for ourselves.

Do we have a way to block the world from ourselves? Do we justify the little sound that makes its way from the world into our hearts, or do we strive to block it out entirely? Have we built our two walls? We cannot change the fact that we are buried deep within the world, and unless we resort to spend the rest of our days reclined in a kayak on a small New England lake, the world will be all around us. It is up to us to acquire the means to block the sound from our interior. One wall alone will do nothing but block the view, but the sound still pours in.

The temple sits on 125 Columbus Avenue- right the intersection with Broadway- just a block west of Central Park. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you will find yourself walking right past the temple. It blends in quietly to the city scene, thousands walk past it each day, never even suspecting it to be a Mormon temple. Without attentive eyes, and a chin up- you may never see the temple. How often do we pass up something good because we weren’t paying attention?

After my time spent in Palmyra I made my way back to Alex’s house in Syracuse to spend the night so I could say goodbye one last time to Alex and my mom before heading to Ballston Lake, New York to spend a couple days with the McClaws. I was amazed to see the massive contrast that Alex’s house had took on from its previous condition. Suddenly I no longer feared zombies in the basement- it had become a home.

The drive to Ballston Lake was much smoother than the ride to Palmyra. I’ve learned that you need to write down the directions to your destination on paper beforehand, and place them in the camelback that sits over the gas tank to have as a reference. Trying to balance the GPS on the camelback and drive at the same time wouldn’t necessarily be considered safe, so I’ve decided to stray from that. From the minute I met the McClaws, I felt like I was home. So at home in fact, that I decided to bleed all over the place upon arriving after a nasty collision of toe on metal while making the bed they gave me. They took me in, fed me, and housed me without even knowing who I was. I will always be thankful to the home away from home that they provided me. I felt, like Jenny said, as if I were their “adopted nephew”.  I could certainly see the relationship and similarities shared between the two sisters Carrie Heaton and Jenny McClaws.

When I arrived to their home, they were busy preparing to leave to a wedding reception nearby. They invited me along, and curious to meet some New Yorkers and their way of life- I rode along. I love the “Mormon connection” as I call it. It’s the connection we all share as brothers and sisters within this great gospel throughout the world. You could meet a member from South America and not have anything in common but your faith and could still instantly be the greatest friends. Due to that connection, I haven’t felt uncomfortable even for a moment in all the places I’ve traveled. These loving members have taken me in and treated me just like their own brother- which I cherish and will appreciate forever.

The wedding reception was positioned on the shore of a large beautiful lake right at sunset. I never knew how gorgeous New York could be. Often times when we think of New York we think of that concrete forest I previously mentioned, but in reality that’s just a small portion of that state.

I came to find out a few days later, that the town I was staying in and the chapel I had attended the next day was the same places my parents had lived and had had Alex years earlier. It was a strange feeling to know that some years earlier my parents were stationed there for the military, walking those streets and seeing those same things I was seeing- except they were proudly sporting their 80s hairstyles and clothes most likely.

One of the things I enjoy most about traveling from ward to ward, is to see that the church is true no matter where you go. Sunday morning I sat among a large ward filled with members that had all received their own testimonies about the church. Each one had their own story. Each one knew it was true.

I was particularly touched by the story a recently baptized member shared about his conversion and life. He seemed nervous and a bit hesitant as he shared that he had stopped attending church years earlier when his parents had divorced. Since that time he never went to church. He joined the Navy young, and after an interview with one of his superiors he was asked, “When was the last time you attended church?” He felt the desires to go back to church, and with the invitation of a friend he had made, he returned to church. Since the day he came back he has made his best effort to attend every single week that it was possible. The girl that had invited him to church became the girl he was going to marry. After weeks of searching for his records within the church, the word came back that his records were gone and he would have to be baptized again. He did so, and was married shortly afterwards.

 I couldn’t help but think of the impact this man’s decision to return to church would make on the rest of his life. Because of that simple decision his own family is returning to church, and his children will be raised in an entirely different lifestyle than if he hadn’t made that choice.

I got to thinking about my grandparents, and the decision they made to follow their hearts and be baptized many years ago, and the impact it has had on so many lives. Their six children were baptized. Many of them were married in the temple and continue to raise their families in the church. Because of my grandparents’ decision one of their sons served a mission, three of their grandchildren are serving missions, and one is currently on his mission. Many more will leave within the next decade.

After church the family invited me along to visit a unique place in Saratoga Springs where they have constant fountains of mineral water. People from all over town have been going there for years to fill up their bottles with that healthy water. A square block of cement sits underneath a pavilion, and two streams of water come from each side- on one side however is an unfiltered, unchanged, ever-so “delicious” faucet with actual mineral water streaming out. I don’t recommend it to anyone. Although they may say it’s healthy for you, it takes like some form of carbonated sulfur in liquid form. Disgusting.

Word got out during church that the McClaws would be holding a family night that evening where I would talk a bit about what I would be doing and why. Several families mentioned they would be coming, so the pressure was on. I had to have something good prepared. The McClaws seem to constantly have their hands on the doorknob, ready to open up for anyone in need. They hosted that family night perfectly, and gave me a wonderful opportunity to talk about this trip. A few families came, and I was able to share the who, what, when, where, why, and how’s of the trip and show off a few pictures from Palmyra. The excitement the member’s shared with me for this endeavor gave me the fuel to go on, as well as a couple more places to stay in different cities that they had offered.

After that wonderful experience, we decided to continue on with our own family night. Earlier in sacrament one of the missionaries in the ward had quoted Yoda in his talk. One of the girls didn’t know who Yoda was or anything about Star Wars, so Brother McClaws figured it a good idea to educate his daughters in the way of the force. We popped in the old VHS and started the trilogy that night.

Monday morning was the scheduled day of departure for Manhattan. Up until Sunday night I didn’t have any place to stay. I had tried asking around, and even had a couple leads on places where I might have a floor or couch to sleep on, but in the end nothing came through. I had already bought my bus ticket, and even without a place to stay, I was going to head into Manhattan. As if on cue, the guy I met in Palmyra with his family a few days earlier offered up his couch in his apartment for me to sleep on for the days I was there. I was so thankful that I was able to run into him in Palmyra and have a place to stay in the Big Apple.

Jenny had explained to me that you would feel an actual energy in New York City that you’d feel leave you as you left it- well I can say I definitely felt that energy as I entered. If I had to choose a city that could be considered the cultural center of the world, New York would be that city. It seems that rather than traveling the world to see those cultures, all you need to do is walk the entire course of Broadway Street.  

Manhattan is a place where you can be whoever you want to be. It’s a city found on the belief that this country is a land of opportunity. I was surprised however to see that with so much energy and diversity, it’s also the land of tunnel vision. People move about the city like ants, each one with their own specific agenda and plan. I felt, in a weird sort of way, that it would be hard to please a New Yorker. It’s as if they’ve seen it all already, and are impossible to impress. But it was a wonderful place, where you could live your dream and become who you wanted to become. In fact, after my arrival I soon found that it’s also a place where you’ve got to get permission and assistance to use the restroom. Now if that isn’t magical then I don’t know what is.

By the time I had gotten to Manhattan on the bus, I had worked up quite the need to visit a local restroom, but soon found that bathrooms didn’t seem to exist in the city. New York isn’t just the “City that never sleeps”, but also the “City that never goes to the bathroom”. After several blocks of walking around with a large backpack on my back and my camera bag on my front, I had finally located McDonalds, where I was required to purchase something in order to pee. I tried to open the door myself, but it was locked. Even after asking permission to use the bathroom, I had a much needed fifteen minute wait before someone could take the time to come out and open the door for me as if I were a royal king. I found that throughout the trip, all my littlest tasks were like my first adventure to use the restroom. Doing so in any normal situation would take no more than a couple minutes, where in Manhattan it was magnified by 5x the amount of time. I found that this concept of magnifying the time was the theme of my stay. A simple task such as walking from point A to point B soon transformed from a casual stroll, into a heart wrenching desperate journey as I was trapped and lost in the Labyrinth.

On my first day in the city, I made my way to the temple to get some pictures and meet some people. In the very front of the temple right as you enter is the church security desk, always staffed with a local guard. After talking for a while with the guard, I came to find out he was from the Dominican Republic. I told him where I was staying on 175^th in Uptown and while laughing he said, “Dude, you’re not in the city anymore. You are in the Dominican Republic!” It all made sense now. When I had gotten to Nikoli’s apartment I couldn’t help but notice that everyone around me looked like a very dark skinned type of Latin, but all speaking some language I couldn’t understand. It seemed Spanish based, but I could only understand one or two works of an entire sentence. I figured it was something besides from Spanish, but now realized it was in fact the same language I spoke! I’ll tell you, as much as I tried, I never could fully understand the strange version they seemed to speak though.

After some time exploring the temple building with the chapel on the third floor, I made my way outside to see the city. I started in central park, and slowly began to make my way towards time square and all the way down Broadway Street to the bottom of the island. I couldn’t believe how far it was, and how tired I soon became. I should’ve taken a couple subways, but figured I’d save a couple bucks instead. I think those few dollars saved went to buy me some extra food to replenish my tired and worn body. 

The subway was a strange place to say in the least. It’s the crossroads for every social class- the one place where every religion, ethnicity, color, gender, and type of person meet. The interaction is all but boring. The relationship you share with those aboard is something similar to the moment you spend with a stranger on an elevator. You don’t speak unless you know someone. If you do- keep it short. Be sure to keep all questions limited to those that start with- “do you know where…” and “Does this subway…” being ever watchful to ensure that it can be answered with a yes or no. People’s eyes bounce around the train casually and yet ever so cautious to prevent eye contact. At times you have room to spread out across a few seats, and others you are uncomfortably wedged between Muhammad and Carlos doing the subway surf with only one sleeping hand and arm held tight to the rail above you. It’s a magical place where you can do it all, be it all, and wear it all. If you’re sweaty and gross, still wrapped tightly in your workout spandex- feel right at home on the subway. Most people however tend to bury their faces in books and papers, or block out the world with their music. To those eager to study human behavior- the subway would be your best location.

At one point in my trip throughout the city I ran across a small church that sits right in front of the World Trade Center site- the Trinity Church. The actual church that George Washington himself visited after his inauguration as president of this country now sits nestled tightly in between massive modern monsters and buildings. It’s strange to see such an icon of history and its elegant architecture buried within the city life. This beautiful old chapel was used as a place of rest and appreciation for the firefighters of New York City during the cleanup of September 11^th. Banners sharing love and support still hang on the walls as a beacon of hope for all those firefighters. 

I couldn’t help but notice that large deal of commotion that was going on at the site where the World Trade Centers used to stand. Construction was in a frenzy there, massive cranes towered high about the site. I was happy and excited to see our country moving on from such a devastating event that had happened there nearly ten years earlier. We keep our chins up, but we will always remember.

At one point in the city near the New York Stock Exchange I came across a memorial of George Washington looking out into the street. I couldn’t help but feel an enormous amount of respect and admiration for the man that helped liberate and lead this country. He will forever stand as an icon of freedom and the American spirit for this country’s people. I wondered what he would think of what this nation has become now, and what he would think looking out into the heavy packed streets of Manhattan. Would he be impressed? Or, would he be ashamed? No matter where we stand as a country, we will always feel a sense of pride in that great God-fearing man.

After a long day of walking and sightseeing I decided to check on some local single’s wards and see if there would be any family nights going on that night. After my first call I found out here would be one (with free waffles) in a local member’s apartment about ten blocks from the church. I couldn’t help but think how strange it would be to show up randomly and uninvited to a family night for the Manhattan YSA, but then again, I had been alone in a big city all day long- I was ready to talk to somebody.

Around 8:00 I made my way to the address given to me by the bishop’s wife. I just hoped I hadn’t received the wrong directions. Knocking on a door asking for waffles and having the wrong address would be a hard one to walk your way out of. Luckily I had no problems there. I got to the address and rang for the apartment several floors up. I thought maybe I’d be able to introduce myself over the intercom, but they just buzzed me up. Once I got up and off the elevator I made my way to the room where the door was already propped open. I thought maybe I would have been able to introduce myself at the front door, but apparently I had to walk straight into the family night in their own home before I could even let them know who I was. I’ll say, it was pretty awkward at first. “Hey, you guys don’t know me, I’m not from here or anything but I’m passing by- would you mind if I join you?” Well, members tend to be accepting no matter what, so it didn’t end up being an issue. After a little while I was able to meet several of the kids in that ward, and soon came to be amazed at their levels of ambition and drive. These kids didn’t sit around and wait for life to happen, they made it happen. They were pursuing ambitious goals in education and career, becoming everything they were able to become. I respected them for that ambition.

The next day I made my way back over to the temple relatively early so I could get some more pictures before leaving the next day. I was in front of Julliard (which sits right across the street from the temple), when all of a sudden two people confronted me with a few questions about my camera. After a couple minutes they introduced themselves as employees for ABC, and they were on a quest to find a couple people willing to help rehearse for a new cooking show called The Chew that they would be putting on live everyday starting in late September. I didn’t have a whole lot better to do, so I thought what the heck- there’s free food. Within minutes I was back walking down small hallways and basements rooms right into the set for this show. They set us down, and ran us through some questions they wanted us to ask the chefs during the show. I apparently had to talk about how my vegan girlfriend and I couldn’t coexist with all the meat I enjoyed eating, and I asked them how I could make that relationship work out- corny, but it was fun. It was amazing to see how many people it takes to run a four person cooking show. That room was packing with cameramen and all sorts of people. After a delicious bowl of fancy macaroni and cheese and a discussion about my apparently vegan girlfriend, I was back on the street.

I did a session that morning and realized that despite its small size, the Manhattan temple is gorgeous. It’s a wonderful thing that even those buried within the depths of that city can still manage to find a slice of heaven if they look in the right place. 

Later that morning I tried to see if I could get myself up in some surrounding buildings to get some pictures of the temple from a higher angle, but I soon realized that no one really cared. I tried talking with the NYPD that was standing watch on a street corner nearby, he relayed to me however the city’s concern for tripods on rooftops. I guess that just sounds like assassinations and shootings to them. I figured it sounded like good pictures was all. While I was talking with the officer, his radio crackled and then spoke- “…if anyone is asking about the ground shaking, let them know we just experienced an earthquake.” Me and the officer looked at each other confused- was the Earth even shaking? I’ve always wanted to feel an Earthquake, and the one time I get my chance, I couldn’t even feel it. If you were high up in the buildings you could feel it apparently (it was the talk of the streets that day), but on ground level you couldn’t feel anything shake.

After my disappointment of missing an Earthquake, and the spiritual drain of doing a temple session I made my way back to the apartment to get a little nap. I spent a couple hrs editing pictures and falling in and out of sleep on the pullout couch. Around six that evening me and Nikoli met up for dinner at a famous burger joint in town before I made my way out onto the city at night. Nikoli was an interesting and extremely easy going kid. I found it most interesting to hear that although he was studying music and pursuing a career as an opera singer, his favorite kind of music was heavy metal. He is a motivated kid on a path to make his dream a reality- I love the opportunity I get to meet such wonderful members throughout the world.

After several hours of getting lost over and over again in the Labyrinth of streets and buildings, I decided to make my way back to the apartment and rest up before my early morning ride back to Ballston Lake.

Photography was a whole new adventure in Manhattan, but I found many times I had no idea what to take pictures of, or how to do it. I have hardly ever taken pictures of temples before, let alone massive skyscrapers. Within all that I saw there, I hope I was able to get a few interesting shots! The temple was, to say in the least, near impossible to get pictures of- but I made a solid attempt.

I still can’t even believe how kind and openhearted the McClaws were to me during my stay there before and after my trip to Manhattan. They gave me a bed to sleep on, took me sightseeing, let me join them in their fun activities throughout the day, gave me food to eat, gave me a kayak to explore the lake on, let me park my bike at their house while I was away, and even drove me to and from the bus station all the way in Albany. I will always appreciate their service and friendship- and will always love my new adopted little sisters- the crazy, fun, and cute Megan, Camille, and Lydia.