I heard her little voice speaking from just behind me.  “Mommy, put down the phone!” I’ve been caught with the PDA in my hand, again. I was just checking the time, really I was.  But then I saw the little envelope icon in the corner.  I knew I shouldn’t open the email but my daughter was in the bathroom and I figured I had a minute or two and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something critical. It wasn’t critical. It only required a short answer and then it would be done, and I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.  And that’s how it happened that my daughter found me clicking away with my thumbs instead of attentively gazing at the bathroom door waiting for her to come out.

She’s four years old and everything she does is captivating. Recently, I watched her work on a jigsaw puzzle and seeing how she evaluated each piece for proper placement fascinated me.  How could email possibly compete?  It shouldn’t, but somehow it slips in and takes over and I find myself staring at a tiny screen instead of a little person.

As an architect I have deadlines and construction emergencies, and other people waiting for my work so they can complete their assignments. Thanks to the fabulous advances in technology (tiny bit of sarcasm here), I can access my work computer from home and get things done without going into the office.  None of this is unexpected or even much different from the way architects have worked for many years. We are deadline driven and even the best of us tend to procrastinate…I mean, continue to design…up until the last moment. The constant access to email is another thing entirely.

My cell phone is mostly for emergencies or on-the-fly coordination. Really, I don’t spend much time on the phone. However, my phone happens to live in the same device as my portable email.  There are downsides but in general, I think email is a good thing, especially for work.  That is, until it started following me around.

I don’t constantly check my email but there are other things on my PDA that cause me to look at it on a regular basis. I don’t wear a watch so it serves as my timepiece. I have books on my device so if I’m stuck waiting for something or someone, I might read a few pages. It’s inevitable that once I open my PDA for whatever reason, there is the likelihood that the email icon will be there. My problem is that once I see the icon, I have to check my email. If I don’t, I am distracted and wondering what it might be. I know it’s not a good thing – cats and curiosity and all, but I can’t help myself.

And that brings me back to my daughter’s demand that I put down the phone. I have never received an email that is an actual emergency. No one sends a letter in an emergency, even one that arrives instantly. I just need to work on convincing myself that if there is an email waiting for me, I don’t have to read it immediately and there are more important things to do than respond to emails on a Saturday afternoon.

It’s a hard habit to break. Fortunately, I have that little voice to help me. Besides, I need to set a good phone etiquette example so when I tell my teenage daughter to put down her phone.

This is the second post in a series about balancing (or lack thereof) work and being a mother.  It’s not always easy, but it is always interesting.

One of the great things about living in New York City is the constant juxtaposition of old and new, trendy and timeless, now and forever. The borough of Queens is seldom explored by newcomers to the city-most likely because the majority of the borough is not easily accessible by public transportation. I am a third-generation Queensenite, and I know my borough like the back of my hand.

I married into the district of Bayside – a waterfront area in northeastern Queens. I am happy to say that I enjoy living there immensely, and find that I am never lonely with an in-law around every corner. One of my favorite parts of Bayside is Little Bay Park and Joe Michael’s Mile. It is an uninterrupted three-mile stretch of parks down under the Throgs Neck Bridge that borders Little Neck Bay on one side, and the Cross Island Parkway on the other. In the spring, summer, and fall I am one of the many people who run, walk, skate and bike (and sometimes fish) the Greenway. The far end is a wildlife preserve where I frequently see new mother ducks walking their ducklings. There is a marina mid-way down, where you can board your boat, launch your jet-ski, crab fish, or have some fries in the snack bar. But just in case you forgot you were in still in urban Queens, turn around and find a busy highway whizzing by at 60MPH.

The Greenway is also the home to what I think is one of the most curious places in all of Queens: Fort Totten.

A giant stone gate with wrought iron fences gives way to an intimidating security booth, complete with intimidating vehicles passing though – NYPD cruisers, FDNY Scuba Unit vans, and Hum Vs. Passage into the fort is typically not for the light of heart. Most people don’t know that the security is for vehicular traffic only; pedestrians and cyclist may enter without interrogation.

What lies beyond the security gate is an unexpected journey through time. Designed by General Robert E Lee, Fort Totten was built as a civil war fort used to protect Manhattan from battleships coming off the Long Island Sound. There is a lot of interesting history inside the fort – ruins of the battery, monuments, landmarked buildings – it is almost like stepping into Bayside’s own little version of Williamsburg…or Gettysbury.

The fort is still home to US Army Reserve, but has been home to a rotating list of civic organizations. Currently you will find the US Coast Guard, NYPD, and FDNY among its residents. Recently several acres have been gifted to the NYC Parks Department, who operate the Bayside Historic Society, ball fields, parade grounds, and even a public pool.

Like most places of historic importance, Fort Totten has a very unique vibe. A presence. I have heard rumored Bayside ghost stories from time to time, from friends, from neighbors, and sometimes from bloggers. All reports lead to the Little Neck Bay. Taking a closer look at the history of Fort Totten, physically and historically, Fort Totten was best known for “casualty support and hospital care (1864-1965)” [1]. In the dead center of its land sits the largest architectural structure – an ominous three-story brick monster sprinkled with tiny windows. Almost entirely covered in ivy, one immediately wonders if there are any doors, as the perimeter has been protected by a chain-link fence that appears as old as the 6-foot weeds it encases. There is hardly any doubt that this sanitarium holds memories of the horrors of historic war and mid 19th-century medical trials. The bricks seem to scream it. The ivy appears to choke it. What has become of the interior hallways and patient wards? Do they warrant an unattained minimum condition of preservation and respect for the heroes who once inhabited their walls? I can’t help but wonder when the last time a living person walked its corridors. Does it have a keeper? Do our civil servants living in Fort Totten roam the hallways at night for fun? Do the rumored ghosts who allegedly frequent the Bay all live inside and roam my Greenway by night?

…but now I head home on my getaway bike…

1  http://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/forttotten

Additional Information on the history of Fort Totten:
http://www.preserve2.org/qpl/s96pt1.htm#historical
http://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/forttotten/dailyplant/20601