Despite being just an hour’s train ride from New York City, I only head in a few times a year. My last visit was when my daughter and I joined hundreds of thousands of people to participate in the Women’s March.

It’s definitely been a very long (and surreal) seven weeks since then.

It’s been hard to know how to move forward in this strange new world. How much to ignore. How much to resist. How much to engage and try to find common ground. How much to do normal things.

Even with none of this being normal at all.

But life goes on.

Museum exhibits come and go.

So on a gorgeous almost spring day this week, I ventured in to check out “From the Collection: 1960-1969” at MoMa.

On my walk from Grand Central I was struck by the bold electronic New York Times ads scrolling on the bus shelters.

Subscriptions to The New York Times have surged since the election as people try to determine The Truth amidst a sea of alternate facts.

I then meandered around Rockefeller Center for a bit before wandering a few blocks over to MoMa where I immersed myself in the various galleries for the next several hours. As always I was stuck by how many different languages were being spoken by my fellow visitors.

For some strange reason, rather than making my way back to Grand Central, I found myself heading over see what things were like at “White House North”. It appears that immigrants are welcome across the street from the gilded tower.

And then I saw another one of those New York Times ads. This time with a special addition. Wow!

Apparently these were put up all around the city for National Women’s Day which had taken place just the day prior. It looks like someone tried unsuccessfully to remove the sticky poster.

Even this guy looked pretty shocked by it all!

Despite the huge blocks of concrete everywhere, things seemed relatively normal on the block. I asked one of the police officers stationed across from the entrance if the situation is much different when Trump is in town. He said that he hasn’t been back since the inauguration, so things haven’t been too crazy in the neighborhood.

Oh right, it’s been golf season in Florida.

It was getting dark, the spring-like weather was turning chilly, and the time had come to catch a train back home.

But something about this scene made me laugh. I kept wondering why the “Interior Demolition Specialists” were parked inside the barricades in front of the Trump Tower.

Who knows.

It is indeed a strange time in which we are living.

Maybe someday I will find more eloquent words to better express the wide range of emotions that I am feeling. But for now I continue to grapple with the non-normal nature of the situation.

And muddle through.

Trying to capture some of the strange times in which we are living.

Most peculiar, mama.