"...heck"

Saint Marks in the Bowery. The closest I've come in my adult life to having a parish church. It's the oldest place of Christian service in the City. Peter Stuyvesant, whose bones I met, are entombed in the wall. This guy was Mayor of this town from 1647 to 1664 when the brits kicked him out.

This is also where for decades my friends in the radio biz had their memorials. It's where I want mine.
It's known as the Artists Church. This because of it's close relationship to that community. The many lights of which have performed there since the 19th century.

Like all institutions, and people it changes over time. In my experience it went from an all welcome of any or no faith to a strictly Christian only space,...and back. Basically it's Holy Ground. I just like sitting there is all.
One day while at service at Saint Marks in the Bowery I looked to my left, and noted I had an interesting pew mate. Peter Stuyvesant or some portion of him was entombed into the wall next to me.
There are assorted poets, and troublemakers planted about the grounds...even a Vice President or two. However I never thought I'd run into 'these' bones. Heck of a town this.