Wednesday, September 24, 2008


In the vast, dry desert expanse called TV Land, a hero has finally emerged to save us all from the week night humdrum. And not just one hero, a whole host of them! The season premier of “Heroes” kicked off on NBC on Monday night after a long hiatus. My favorite hit show, which was originally intended to air for one season, finally returned with an explosive two hour rescue that did not disappoint. What I love about “Heroes” is that every character is interesting, regardless if they are friend or foe. Even after a character is killed off, my interest in them never wanes and I am left wondering if they would ever return. Fortunately, some of those stiffs do return. When resurrecting a character, there is a fine line between Soap Opera bath scum and genius. “Heroes” is genius. It is so wonderfully written that bringing back the dead and other fantastical events blend smoothly into the script.

The theme of the first season was “Save the Cheerleader, Save the World”. This line donned many a T-shirt and button. I must admit that I too am in possession of a cute little camisole (it was a gift). Anyway, this season’s focus is on “Villians” and in the premier, it is clear that the glass wall between the heroes and the villains is no longer clear. It seems to me that the first episode is a set up to a reversal of roles. Many questions have been raised already. Who really is Mama Petrelli and is there any limit to her understated evil? What in the world is happening to Suresh? Is Sylar being brain washed to work for the “Paper Company”? Why isn’t Claire feeling any pain anymore and what did Sylar mean when he said that she is more special than the others? How many personalities does Nikki have really? When will the Peter Petrelli of the present get out of that insane criminal’s body that his future self trapped him in? Will Hiro find the other half of the stolen secret formula in Germany on his quest to locate the girl who can travel at the speed of sound? Ahhhhhhh. It’s going to be so much fun finding out these answers. If you have never watched “Heroes”, please give it a try. It will save you.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Where does the time go?

by Ambrosia

“Eat your food. Do you know how many starving children in Ethiopia and Kenya would love to eat that food that you’re wasting?” My daughter then looked up at me with doe eyes. This morning I did it. I can’t believe I finally did it. I became my mother! I’ve been very conscious not to say certain statements tinged with guilt that she would sling at me as a child. But today, I did it. I mean, it is true though. There are many children all around the world that are starving. But when a kid is sitting in front of a plate of cold eggs or a bowl of broccoli, I am sure that regardless of what you or I say as adults, all they are thinking about is an escape plan.

Time really flies. Just the other day I was a kid without a care in the world. Now I am a full fledged bill-paying adult, with kids, armed and dangerous in guilt trip mode. Where does the time go? I wonder how old I will have to get before I finally realize that I am OLD?! Will it be when I’m cutting out coupons for Ben-gay? Or when I start holding a conversation with myself? I just had to share this with all of you thirty and forty something year old's who are finding themselves pathetically imitating their parents to the T. And don’t even let me get started about the two gray hairs I found…

Monday, September 15, 2008

Louise Ebarb - A Painter Grows in Brooklyn

Amidst the concrete and blaring car horns of Brooklyn, New York, raw artistic talent brims. Louis Ebarb is a prime example of this phenomenon. As a long time resident of Brooklyn and a member of the Choctaw-Apache Tribe of Ebarb, Louisiana, Mr. Louis Ebarb is adept at finding the beauty that lies within and displaying it like only he can in his magnificent paintings. For our viewing pleasure, he mixes his rich, colorful heritage with the complexities of Urbana. A student of painting at Pratt Institute in the 1970s, Ebarb's style reflects the emerging Minimalist Movement. In 1988, he incorporated his training in abstract art with the concepts of the American Realists of the early twentieth century and began to document his experiences and time through his unique version of Urban Realism.

Louise Ebarb’s works have been presented in various galleries throughout the United States. His collections can be found at the State University of New York-Downstate Medical Center, Columbia Univeristy, New York State Museum in Albany, the United Nations and more. Mr. Ebarb has also been the recipient of numerous awards. Check out his works of art at his website below.

Thursday, September 11, 2008


By Ambrosia

The Pentagon, Somerset County, Pennsylvania, The Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York, NY; Seven years have passed since that tragic day when over 3000 innocent lives were lost senselessly on September 11th 2001. 3000 lives! I can not even fathom the number. Precious human lives, including infants, wiped out on a single sunny September morning amidst a cloudless blue sky. While some died instantly, most suffered knowing that they were staring death in the face as heat and smoke scratched away mercilessly at their lives. Desperation enveloped many, driving them to end their own lives, instead of waiting to die, as they flung their bodies through the windows of the Twin Towers. Can you imagine waiting to die? I was fortunate enough to know people who worked at the World Trade Center and were able to escape; still not fortunate enough because all of the strangers who died do not feel like strangers for some reason. They feel like family.

I was late to work as usual going to my job in Times Square. I had no idea as my train was moving underneath the World Trade Center, that the first plane had already hit. When I came out at my stop, Times Square which is usually bustling with people and cars, was eerily bare except for the endless stream of blaring fire engines racing downtown. Hundreds of these same brave soldiers – firefighters and other rescue workers moving past me lost their lives and are still losing their lives today as the effects of being exposed to toxins at Ground Zero set in.

When I got to my office, everyone was huddled around the T.V. Then I finally saw what all the confusion was about. I tried calling my family with my cell but of course there was no reception. Unknown to me at the time, my train was one of the last trains allowed to enter Manhattan. Immediately all bridges were closed. I couldn't get back to Brooklyn, at least not now. I changed into my running shoes and kept my jacket on, in case the bridges were allowed to reopen. Almost three hours passed. We watched the first tower collapse unto itself in flames; sending a toxic cloud of smoke everywhere. My heart sank instantly.

To make a long story short, the bridges were reopened over three hours later and I raced out of my building. That was the scariest elevator ride I have ever had from the 52nd floor. Outside, instead of people normally pushing and being rude, everyone walked around like zombies, hand in, white, Chinese, Indian what-have-you. It didn't matter today. I was in awe. I made it to a Brooklyn Bound train and I didn't care which train it was as long as it was heading out of Manhattan. We were packed like sardines. As the conductor started slowly and cautiously going over the bridge, we were all face to face with an unreal sight. It was no longer T.V. This was the real thing!! Columns of smoke became one massive black cloud trailing up through the blue sky. There was nothing but silence. Our beautiful skyline, the twin skyscrapers which we always looked upon with adoration, was ripped apart. More so than that, human lives were becoming dust before our very eyes. Knowing all to well that there was a bomb threat for bridges, everyone was at the edge of their seats (at least the ones that were sitting). THAT was by far the scariest train ride ever to say the least. As the thick cloud of blackness made its way over to Brooklyn, transit buses refrained from picking up the droves of frantic people in the streets. When I finally made it home 4 hours later, I experienced my first full fledge asthma attack. Well that is my story.

For the last couple of nights, I have been peering through my apartment window at the two shafts of white light emitted from Ground Zero clear into the starry heavens. It truly is a profound sight. I have one hope and one wish. My hope is that each and every one of those lives are still living, beautifully perched in the grand tree that is heaven. And I wish that all of our differences in religion, race, and gender would work as a unifying tool, bringing us together to learn from one another, not as a tool of division. There is so much to learn and yet so little time. Our lives are miniscule compared with the universe.

Let us remember the events of 9/11 so that they may never happen again.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

West Indian Day Parade

by Ambrosia

Is it possible for a moving oasis of color and beauty to thrive on the streets of Brooklyn, New York? Well, at least for one day out of the year it is possible. The West Indian Day Parade on Labor Day was a success as energetic revelers put their majestic costumed creations on display as they danced and ‘chipped down de road’ freely to Soca music. Many costumed bands competed for prizes as judges seated at the end of the route in front of the Brooklyn Museum gave scores to each band and each section within the band. The bands this year ranged from the ever present, ever winning Sesame Flyers with the theme “Caribbean Heritage” to the still thriving, first costumed band to reach the United States, Borokeete U.S.A. with this year’s theme, “Beauty of the Dark Continent”.

For those who are not familiar with “Carnival”, here is a brief history. In the late 1700’s, Carnival was introduced to Trinidad and Tobago, West Indies by the French. The elaborate masquerade balls evolved into the multi-cultural spectacle that we see today. Lighting up the streets in every city it takes hold of, Carnival, with the addition of steel pan, calypso and soca music, has spread all throughout the Caribbean, the U.S. and the world. Cities such as Houston, Miami, Tampa, Toronto, Montreal, Notting Hill, United Kingdom etc., are all fortunate enough to get to experience the Carnival Fever every year.

Although many do not look forward to the end of summer, the West Indian Day Parade in Brooklyn is always welcomed with eager anticipation by adults and children alike and it never disappoints. Until next year…