in.NYC

Sunday started out like most others: woke up sleep-deprived because I didn’t get home until after 4a.m., compensated with caffeine, rushed out the door to make it to church on time, got the truck from the garage, went for a drive, grabbed brunch at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, went across the street to Fairway and got groceries.  </normalcy>

Instead of winding down in the afternoon, I drove to Brooklyn for a massage. It was going to be great. I left an hour early to explore, but found that I had just enough time to go straight there since the gay pride parade was masquerading down 5th Ave., botching my ability to get from point A to B throughout Manhattan.

I made it to my appointment early, left relaxed and met up with my friend (current NY Times photo intern) Jessica Ebelhar. We went to a great restaurant – Ki Sushi – where we ate our fill (amazing salmon sashimi) and then went back to my truck to drop off some things…

At this point I realize I’ve left the keys to my truck somewhere. I pull out my iPhone (which has been on the fritz) to find that the lower portion of the touch screen isn’t working. The clock is ticking – it’s about 9p.m. and I can’t unlock my phone to check my voice mail. I borrow Jessica’s phone and hear a message from the lady at the day spa – she found what she thought were my keys. She also said she’d be at the spa until 9p.m.

At this point it’s 9:06 and she’s left for the night. Great. I called my boss immediately to tell her I needed to address the situation first thing in the morning if possible… she was extremely understanding. At this point what started off as a perfectly relaxing and enjoyable night has blossomed into a perfect storm.

So for the time, we ignored the perfect storm and went to the promenade to people watch for a bit. It was a gorgeous night and was happy to spend it in the company of a friend.

The coup de grâce in this lovely unfolding of events that stretched my weekend into Monday: the keys to my apartment were locked in my truck, I needed to be at work at 8a.m. the next morning. (Jessica was kind enough to offer me a place to stay). I woke up first thing in the morning only to realize they don’t open until 11 – Who opens at 11?! After I pay for meter parking (with a paper receipt you pay for and put on your dash – no keys, so i put it under my wiper blade) I grab a cup of coffee, only to return to find someone stole my receipt. My phone is dying a slow death, and every time I need to make a call I have to turn the phone off, then back on again. Then it just died altogether.

A gal showed up early to open the place up at 10, thank goodness – as I was really feeling like getting into work – got there by 11… three hours late. Had a heck of a scatter-brained day. It was unnerving. Looking forward to a more normal rest of the week and a visit from my mom this Thursday, my birthday.

I’m sitting at work and I get a phone call from my dad. I rarely if ever answer my phone at work, but it’s my dad, so I give in.

Usually we chat about what we’re up to, but a more plausible topic is his latest computer crisis. 63% of these are the result of an unplugged USB cable, 7% the on/off switch, and the balance: a grab bag of printer errors and disagreeable Word documents.

I’m already in troubleshooting mode… he catches me off guard with the quip, “wanna go to lunch?”

Huh? (my parents live in Minneapolis).

“Yeah, I just got into Philadelphia and we’re (dad + associate Jon Broun) coming to see you…”

After I recover from falling out of my chair, I eagerly oblige. Although we only had a few hours, we were able to tour my office, visit Grand Central Station and the Oyster Bar (thanks to an outstanding recommendation by Matt Diebel), and my apartment in Harlem before they had to get back to Philly where they’re auditing a church over the next couple days.

Me and my dad outside work

I’ve seen a lot in the city since I’ve been here. Bar none, this is by far the coolest thing I’ve been able to do so far. Thanks Dad – it was great to see you. Here’s wishing you an early happy Father’s day. That reminds me… gotta shop for a card this week.

Love, Son.

A year ago today, floodwaters from the Cedar River were busy at work decimating 400 city blocks and 3900 homes in the town I endearingly called home.

Tonight, NBC’s Kevin Tibbles reported from Cedar Rapids about a group of hardworking retirees, volunteering to repair houses still not fixed after the waters receded.

This time last year I was engaging in a marathon that lasted weeks. Waterlogged shoes, wading through floodwaters coordinating with police and firefighters to go out on rescue operations, working with the folks at the Gazette to ensure our visual team was providing the most comprehensive coverage we could… and occasionally getting a few winks of sleep.

It’s remarkable where Cedar Rapids was a year ago… although the flood was such a terrible calamity to fall on my fair city, there’s no people I can imagine more well suited to band together, pull up their boots and get the job done.

I miss roaming the halls of the gazette lit sparsely by generator power, cruising around town with Mike Hlas in search of rescue boats, running on no sleep and trying to do my best work, Paul and Rollin feverishly working to keep up with six very talented photographers with very different personalities, and most importantly the sense of responsibility that came with getting ‘IT’ out there on a daily basis because people needed to know.

Tim Hussin, a very accomplished photojournalist, is interning for MediaStorm this summer. I just found out he’s going to the Hearst Photojournalism Championships, where he will do well. Also attending is another good friend, Jake Stevens. He will also do well. I’m pretty sure he’s interning at the L.A. Times this summer…

Tim Hussin spends time in the company of his friends in his Brooklyn, N.Y., apartment in early May, 2009.

After three weeks on the job at msnbc.com I’m venturing back to Iowa two consecutive weekends in a row to shoot two weddings with my dear friend and talented photographer Nathan Weber. Last weekend was the first. I was pleased to see that my old roommates taking care of my house in Cedar Rapids have kept the place in great shape.

I couldn’t help but be a little amazed at the contrast in scenery as I flew out of one and into the other…

looking towards cedar rapids, ia from the southwest

looking towards manhattan from the southeast

There comes a time in every entrepreneurial journalist’s career when they realize it’s been far too long since their professional websites have been updated.

I’d love to be writing a post about how I ran into a hastily-opened cabbie’s door while high-tailing it down 3rd Ave. in Manhattan on my shiny new bike, but I’m exporting swf’s from Flash so swiftly my eyes can barely stay in focus. I’m writing xml, tweaking java scripts and polishing cascading style sheets with diligence. All this is with the hopes that one or two other people might enjoy viewing the work that I’ve enjoyed producing so very much.

Please be patient. I might be decent in Flash, but xml and java are new languages I’m quickly trying to get a handle on.

In the mean time, I attended my first premier Monday evening compliments of a very talented photographer, Tim Hussin, who is interning with Media Storm this summer. The event drew a substantial crowd to the Galapagos Art Space on Main St. in Brooklyn. The venue – gorgeous.

Image: Danny Wilcox Frazier, Eric Maierson and Brian Storm field questions at the premier of "Driftless: Stories from Iowa" at the Galapagos Art Space in Brooklyn on Monday, May 18, 2009.

Tim invited me to the debut of a joint production between Danny Wilcox Frazier and Media Storm… which draws from a long-term project Danny has been shooting for the past five-or-so years. He published a book of his work called Driftless: Photographs from Iowa, which I would strongly recommend to any photographer or Iowan, but especially – an Iowan photographer.

But I digress… Media Storm caught onto his work and produced a half-hour documentary highlighting his work, but more importantly the stories that transcend Iowa and reveal a lot of things about people in any rural area. They did an incredible job of storytelling that most anyone can relate to. After the show I spent an hour driving back to the garage and then biking cautiously to the apartment in Manhattan.

And I’m sure inquiring minds are eager to hear – it was an uneventful ride.

Taking you back: it’s my first weekend in the city and my good friend Jenica Miller asks me to accompany her and a couple friends for dessert.

Graciously, I accept and offer to drive. She likes this idea. After procrastinating for a half hour, slightly rushed and still in a daze from unpacking I walk out to my truck and call Jenica to tell her I’m on my way. The weather is perfect, traffic isn’t too heavy. Everything is sublime.

We get into East Village and my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number; I let it ring. I get a voicemail. We park, I listen.

It’s a friendly but strange voice with a tinge of a New York accent… a fellow by the name of James Berkowitz. Here’s what he had to say:

After twenty seconds have played I’ve pulled out the liners of my pockets, almost as if there’s a decent chance the OTHER Jonathan Woods from Iowa was at 115 and Manhattan in Harlem and dropped HIS credit card outside MY apartment… nope. It was mine. Also missing: one Iowa driver’s license.

Great. First weekend and in the city and I pull a stunt like this… Nervously I call James. His kind and cheerful voice greets me with a friendliness I wouldn’t expect.

He’s got my card. Within minutes he’s located my driver’s license. Turns out, James is my neighbor (and best friend for the day, at least). The next morning I connect with him, all is well, and a few days later, I’m off to buy a billfold.

a bit of the back-story here…

- In Iowa, I used to carry a checkbook, but there’s no sense in that anymore… I’ve downsized to something much smaller now.

-How did the cards fall out of my pocket? My rubberized phone case, which does a great job protecting my phone, does an even better job of emptying the contents of my pockets. In a rush, I put my phone in the wrong pocket. I called Jenica as I left the house… my pocket liner came out with the phone, and that’s where James came in. Thank you, James – for being honest, for being a gentleman. I was blessed to have met James. He’s a neat guy who’s taught me a lot about my new surroundings in Harlem.

—

What happens to Woods when a cabbies door opens directly in front of you while you’re cruising on your bike at around 20mph? Find out in the next post.

I spent so long sitting on this video I almost forgot I produced it for The Gazette until I saw Elizabeth Hladky’s tweet on it today. This was from an interview Stephen Schmidt and I did with Ashton Kutcher before his appearance at Carver Hawkeye Arena where he and Olympic Gymnast Shawn Johnson promoted flood-relief efforts that have raised almost $200,000.

So, in his words, Iowa is great because…

Your thoughts?