tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59564472024-03-23T14:10:50.715-04:00Hands In The DirtGardener, clergy spouse and walker with dog in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.comBlogger1074125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-57503484012646310472016-04-09T08:53:00.001-04:002016-04-09T19:36:04.514-04:00Morning walk, Stockbridge ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf7vrXLY7SrWvVGbh3pNCbKM8rWiah8Ns0Jq7B4Zr2ut3rHciG1-kR8YbNVum94Lnf4uT2shvTAiHKLU9tp80DaKhBNZ5JoeaClrSmZPq2uCPSjBDVNzKe006sMdwpWzwSZfRYw/s640/blogger-image-637835618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf7vrXLY7SrWvVGbh3pNCbKM8rWiah8Ns0Jq7B4Zr2ut3rHciG1-kR8YbNVum94Lnf4uT2shvTAiHKLU9tp80DaKhBNZ5JoeaClrSmZPq2uCPSjBDVNzKe006sMdwpWzwSZfRYw/s640/blogger-image-637835618.jpg"></a></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>It <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">was 26 degrees outside this morning, but after a week of snow, rain and harsh winds, it was a relief to walk with the dogs under a clear blue sky and no breezes. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Saturday mornings give us a time to explore Stockbridge while the town is mostly asleep. </div><div><br></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today, I walked with my dog Sean and our dog friend Frankie, an old family dog friend whose is staying with us while her owners are vacationing. </span></div></div><div><br></div><div>Between Main Street, where we live, which runs east-west, and the two streets behind us, also parallel to Main Street along the slopes of the hill behind us, are a series of woody marshes, common to the Berkshires. </div><div><br></div><div>A woman who grew up on Main Street told me that when she was a child, one never saw wild animals such as bears or wild turkeys in town. She thought it was because local farming, more predominant then, meant there was less woods and wilderness, which is more predominant now. </div><div><br></div><div>And now wetlands, the catch-all phase for water places, whether formed by flowing, gathering run-off or fallen logs and beaver dams, are protected. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We left Main Street, walking through a large wooded area at the back of the St. Paul's property. Shamrock is the next street behind is. There may be 15 or so houses located on one side or the other. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On the south side there is a large swath of woods, thickets and marsh. As we got close to the end of the street, the land rises sharply up, and a brook carrying spillover water from higher up the hill winds back down to the woods we just passed. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The water was gurgling and splashing, thick with runoff from melted snow and rain from this past week. Dogs and I stood and listened for a few minutes. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Shamrock Street dead ends into Vine Street, which arcs along the hill from Main Street at its east end up to Pine Street at the other end. Vine Street has fewer houses, a pond, woods, marshes. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On the north side there is a dense wood that may have been the edge of an estate garden. Above the road there are rock walls and terraces that poke out of the vegetation. </span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">There are water sluices directing water from above, perhaps from a pond. And then we saw the turkeys, large, tall, black and gray, moving out of grasses and other foliage, like ghosts, </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">When I was in the first grade we colored pictures of turkeys around thanksgiving, with their round fan tails. I have never seen that traditional turkey in real life until this year, walking the dog in Stockbridge. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">They float in out of these woods. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Something disturbed them and then they started a schreeching gobbling, as loud as dogs barking, and then quiet. They float back into the woods. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Before the road gets to Pine Street, it rises steeply. As we turn on Pine to descend back toward Main Street, we can see the bluffs on Monument Mountain south of Stockbridge, St. Paul's bell tower, the tops of trees and houses along Main Street. </span></div><div><br></div>Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0Stockbridge Stockbridge42.282373 -73.311264tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-24292854121621882332013-09-05T11:11:00.000-04:002013-09-05T11:34:35.253-04:00Quiet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This spring, I left Harlem at 125th Street on Metro North "Hudson" Line and rode the train to Poughkeepsie. Since it was early Saturday morning, there were only a couple of people in the car as we rolled along the Hudson River, quickly leaving the city behind. The tracks are built at the river's edge along its eastern bank, and soon, and as we glided along, and I had a private view out of the large glass windows, I began to imagine Henry Hudson and his crew when they first sailed up this river. By the time I arrived at Poughkeepsie, I was in the mild bliss I usually feel as soon as I see the high banks, massive river and the hills proceeding from it.<br />
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This is perhaps one of the most beautiful areas within the United States. It's scale is grand, but human, not alpine, and its overwhelming green must increase my dopamine levels, because I often has the sense that this is where I want to be.</div>
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<br />Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-88406896680657100062012-04-14T17:17:00.004-04:002012-04-14T17:26:40.946-04:00Perfect DaySean the dog and I walked with our dear friends on our regular Saturday morning walk in the northern end of Central Park. It is our Saturday morning tradition, meeting in Harlem with our terriers, and walking the ten blocks or so to the Harlem <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Meer</span> corner of the park.<div><br /></div><div>The sky was entirely blue, and the temps chilled enough to stretch out another day of blooming trees and bulbs. In a more normal spring, there is a rhythm and order to the cycle of blooms, but this early season has managed to almost <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">simultaneously</span> open everything at the same time. So as cherries are still in bloom, redbuds and lilacs are also opening up, and daffodils continue to bloom along with the tulips.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are moments in New York, when one has a chance while looking out at the window in a tall building, or from a passing car or train outside of Manhattan, to see the full sweep of human density in the width and depth of the city, and wonder how it all works. That people with foresight chose to stake off before the Civil War such a large space as Central Park and designed it with a sense of imagination and understanding of natural beauty still boggles the mind. The garbage regularly gets picked up, millions make their way more or less in and out of the city to work, and in our midst is a human Garden of Eden with room enough for sports crazed bicyclists and runners as well as strollers, tourists and dog walkers.</div>Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-9319727850896327132009-07-05T08:29:00.003-04:002009-07-05T09:44:01.149-04:00Beautiful Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGB2CK1O51oDoPVWGF0lCHNhBDV_CN_GEZYMjUpmiHBIe1hMDjy04u_su6IMAIRfmi2Tkt3lMknPGclLtIiaJsWuqZFjgEVB05GYPEx5kgT4tCFyoTfIxEFWHIhc0gjhyphenhypheniu4Bghw/s1600-h/5368_1173815900121_1069743929_551015_6720935_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGB2CK1O51oDoPVWGF0lCHNhBDV_CN_GEZYMjUpmiHBIe1hMDjy04u_su6IMAIRfmi2Tkt3lMknPGclLtIiaJsWuqZFjgEVB05GYPEx5kgT4tCFyoTfIxEFWHIhc0gjhyphenhypheniu4Bghw/s320/5368_1173815900121_1069743929_551015_6720935_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354952567162397714" /></a><br /><div>Perfect weather in New York in July. Who knew? After a month and a half of almost daily rain, cool breezes brought a blue sky into town. People abandoned Manhattan in droves over Thursday and Friday, and the city was eerily quiet and peaceful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Partner and I joined our friends Tex and Cheryl to see a documentary called <i>Afghan Star</i> about an <i>American Idol</i> like television show on a fledgling network in Afghanistan. From 1996 until they were overthrown, the Taliban made illegal music and singing in that country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even now, there is some concern about the program which had over 2,000 contestants from all over the country. Two of the finalists were women, and one of them allowed her hair to be uncovered, and when she lost and sang her goodbye song she swayed and skipped a bit, shocking everyone. Dancing, women dancing, is considered obscene. <i>She should not have done that</i>, said the other contestants.</div><div><br /></div><div>I recently read this description in Colin Wells' Sailing From Byzantium about the conflict between the religious Hesychasts and the scholarly humanists in the fading days of the Byzantine Empire:</div><div><br /></div><div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">As their empire edged closer to extinction, the Hesychasts and the humanists became often bitter ideological enemies, in a spectacular clash of values and beliefs that frequently spilled over into politics. It was not a simple situation, and much of the time there was no clearly marked lines of separation between the factions. There was much common ground. Both were patriots who wished to save Byzantium and its heritage. The question, inevitably, became which heritage, classical or Christian, and at what price? With tragic inexorability, the antagonists came to act as if the price of survival for one tradition must be the death of the other. -- p. 45</span></blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div>The rest of our day was spent browsing books at Barnes and Noble at Union Square and then enjoying a lovely cookout on the Close at General Seminary. Quite a mix, seminarians and their families, some from out of town, people staying at the seminary during the summer, renters, bringing something to grill and something to share.</div><div><br /></div><div>We watched the fireworks over the Hudson River, two blocks away, from the roof of our building. Across the early evening sky, rooftops and balconies were full of people cheering and watching the glorious fireworks, celebrating the country's birthday, the beautiful day and the 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson sailing up the river that bears his name.</div>Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-2297010059390140312009-07-03T18:40:00.015-04:002009-07-05T09:43:23.518-04:00The High LinePartner and I took an early morning walk to checkout this great new park in our neighborhood.<div style="text-align: center;"><href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gd5xfg0gryo/sk6limggaji/aaaaaaaaabc/9wdmpe5iyim/s1600-h/hl%236.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalcV2BG7GcCig_FZxD880V-aoo-0OAHWH_4WN9NN5wnq2hJJOCHZZO09GyomM4mpWrn7magBr2JvgAgsD1DzfV-1Uf2IkSsZuKQjb39N8Pj8xAqqAuA1yq5yjXKBZrM0Krjn5gQ/s320/HL%236.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354369979792124050" /><div style="text-align: left;">On the edge of West Chelsea, an elevated rail track runs alongside and through several buildings. The tracks were built in 1929 to service the small factories and businesses along this formerly industrial area of the city close to what had been a series of working docks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Last month, the High Line opened to the public, a public-private collaboration to turn the elevated tracks into a public garden, a large scale installation that along with the nearby Hudson River Park brings more green space to a part of the city lacking in parks. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the beauty salon in "Steel Magnolias" there is a needlepoint that states "There is no such thing as natural beauty." The High Line preserves many of the original tracks as well as the weediness/wildness of the plantings that existed there before it was turned into a park. The architects also played off of the original wildness through plantings and hardscape features.</div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI1UwVAz3zzoSPrC7cyR5Pt_YDUnwUNFjGgGU3cPfdiFbaqOy15gbnCdyTB759lIaXu3aYRb3NSbfxoHU9LcRLAy6PqWmnsjOKzVqmH-of-hhcur6Au6vDkLOn_W-BNleHm-BLg/s320/HL%237.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354370358804690834" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gd5xfg0gryo/sk6limggaji/aaaaaaaaabc/9wdmpe5iyim/s1600-h/hl%236.jpeg"></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div>With all new plantings, the look as if these variety of plants just happened to sprout up on the old tracks.</div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVAlZPCUbSR-Ez2MoFSihYnZbm5FG46-0pNW2PCtpIQkVpa8soOxDRcUWawfb2nVA5jBzDzAcxw6xsfabUjDgwftbCY0MowOC1HfafeqWjDYO-TAT-f5F8TR_P2hHaztWrtkMXA/s1600-h/HL%238.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVAlZPCUbSR-Ez2MoFSihYnZbm5FG46-0pNW2PCtpIQkVpa8soOxDRcUWawfb2nVA5jBzDzAcxw6xsfabUjDgwftbCY0MowOC1HfafeqWjDYO-TAT-f5F8TR_P2hHaztWrtkMXA/s320/HL%238.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354371865812394258" /></a>A peak at the Hudson River and Chelsea Piers.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEryPQMny2VRX0_qeCQQaERuDcqnpPRMGk3QLgRbVB4SHtc5kLPIALaY4dBdbuKzlvhnWU3jVXb503bOWFVimgviMdAxTEaOuoO-TL8cEKvVtMCuEcR_LSXVtP7I-sdHWuEckX_Q/s1600-h/HL%239.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEryPQMny2VRX0_qeCQQaERuDcqnpPRMGk3QLgRbVB4SHtc5kLPIALaY4dBdbuKzlvhnWU3jVXb503bOWFVimgviMdAxTEaOuoO-TL8cEKvVtMCuEcR_LSXVtP7I-sdHWuEckX_Q/s320/HL%239.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354372491828766178" /></a>Walking above traffic, this is a much quieter passage for pedestrians. This spur shows how hard the designers worked to keep everything looking natural.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmx4qEv0ZGsD1S2JlWxdt_W7tidp4BTSkuQc_WHNneb2nDGI_502gDYQZyOjg7T7ED3GjHWVVoy8pNKbKyQuRLzEbpJ_3oU_Pdl1NefNrvb4qkCpHFJX8X72r2g-34tPojTMOPBQ/s1600-h/HL%2310.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmx4qEv0ZGsD1S2JlWxdt_W7tidp4BTSkuQc_WHNneb2nDGI_502gDYQZyOjg7T7ED3GjHWVVoy8pNKbKyQuRLzEbpJ_3oU_Pdl1NefNrvb4qkCpHFJX8X72r2g-34tPojTMOPBQ/s320/HL%2310.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354372881509135170" /></a>This amphitheater is where the highline crosses 10th Avenue. Glass plates were installed to allow pedestrians to sit and look up 10th Avenue. It sounds odd, but most New Yorkers do not look around when they are walking at street level. They are mostly moving while trying to avoid other pedestrians, bicyclists, automobile traffic, skateboarders and other potential dangers.<br /><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDa6bMJfMsgw90-QZPsLXV7N15jUikYjQa-ldVLHKQQyLj5RKWFygJDmrbm_SHPpWTCiYTWhg5GKsaG4IhF5tc-pwRUx-xu10z5At3GT4ovrmMp__04Wa7LPPicp-P9HYbriDaw/s1600-h/HL%2311.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDa6bMJfMsgw90-QZPsLXV7N15jUikYjQa-ldVLHKQQyLj5RKWFygJDmrbm_SHPpWTCiYTWhg5GKsaG4IhF5tc-pwRUx-xu10z5At3GT4ovrmMp__04Wa7LPPicp-P9HYbriDaw/s320/HL%2311.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354373425671999858" /></a>This is looking south. towards the Meat Packing District where the park starts.</div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV267LscIT8QhU_6PM9mAjMOz9QegNmzVd71cPx6DtQafDKg7CI_glDHpwipbTX1UzFJNecutjH68QPOCwCsuQwjQmFvaDmSBKgC6DpnTS6PlIaYeuuTBFOY4EJMC7ArwMuZ3IZQ/s1600-h/HL%2313a.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV267LscIT8QhU_6PM9mAjMOz9QegNmzVd71cPx6DtQafDKg7CI_glDHpwipbTX1UzFJNecutjH68QPOCwCsuQwjQmFvaDmSBKgC6DpnTS6PlIaYeuuTBFOY4EJMC7ArwMuZ3IZQ/s320/HL%2313a.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354374468146826674" /></a>Open areas on the highline looking north.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDNubdV92F1xqG8kmU9AiDm2o7vI6nJOXS1GHLmgpiHAuPattUaQ6Y-HlOtq_j0itwqPjAd0dcnkB_FRqsocoT_V6smz4MZxKlVht0PFd6EJb1bF7stFHdozBeIqHkZXolhqhTw/s1600-h/HL%2313.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDNubdV92F1xqG8kmU9AiDm2o7vI6nJOXS1GHLmgpiHAuPattUaQ6Y-HlOtq_j0itwqPjAd0dcnkB_FRqsocoT_V6smz4MZxKlVht0PFd6EJb1bF7stFHdozBeIqHkZXolhqhTw/s320/HL%2313.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354374039802486javascript:void(0)130" /></a>This is at the W. 20th St. Exit looking east on W. 20th. General Seminary is on the left side of the block.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickG-KZ_RnYQ_RLzc7kqLk2L4Xr4exsd-V7kNHDt01JXm9xte5gg-R4PCBp6SnWDdTWc0PxzYNdxvnqMBkg9nfGEZhziVhBiSkmvKd1IFYi9D6fbd8d1pnlcGB02RUJ3mrPR4GFg/s1600-h/HL%2314.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickG-KZ_RnYQ_RLzc7kqLk2L4Xr4exsd-V7kNHDt01JXm9xte5gg-R4PCBp6SnWDdTWc0PxzYNdxvnqMBkg9nfGEZhziVhBiSkmvKd1IFYi9D6fbd8d1pnlcGB02RUJ3mrPR4GFg/s320/HL%2314.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354374897259641474" /></a>This is where the park ends. Work will continue north between W. 20th St. and W. 30th St. There is some possibility that the extension between W. 30th and W. 34th will be included, but it is caught between the MTA and private developers who are planning a major development over the westside railroad yards.<br /></div><div><br /></div>Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-8005683099883060402009-07-02T16:27:00.003-04:002009-07-02T16:53:51.932-04:00Transitions...So I quit writing. I got tired of reading what I was writing. Partner was in Seminary for three years. We moved to New York for that, and I started a new job here. We left our home in Wynnedale (in Indy) for basically a two room apartment with a small kitchen, bathroom and one clothes closet in NYC.<br /><br />I am not sure I ever realized it was ok to enjoy living here. Everything was so temporary at the time, so different. Now we are entering a new period ... partner will be starting a new job soon, my job responsibilities may be changing, and we may be moving within the City.<br /><br />The preacher at his ordination preached on being a deacon -- we are all called by our baptismal vow to diaconal service to others -- and transitional -- we would like to think that life is about arriving and settling, but it really is about movement and change, and he encouraged us to embrace the unsettling, boring and uncomfortable.<br /><br />I've thought about that as we start the next period of our lives, and realize more and more that life itself is not something that is infinite but very finite.<br /><br />While the year <span style="font-style: italic;">2000</span> didn't really feel that much different than the year <span style="font-style: italic;">1999</span>,I think it is becoming quite clear that by July 2009 we are leaving the 20th Century behind in the sense that everything is subject to being quite different than it used to be.<br /><br />The 20th Century was full of change (cars, cell phones, man on the moon). But even as we drag all our 20th century experiences into this new period, feeling oh so <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> hip or cool or cutting edge, we have some obligation to note what it is like to live here and now. Not the royal we here, but rather the folk who write and think about our lives.<br /><br />I feel a little like the voices in the Monty Python skit who make up outrageous stories about what they did when they were children (<span style="font-style: italic;">when I was a child we were so poor we lived in a shoe box in the middle of the road and licked peoples boots as they walked by</span> followed up by the line, <span style="font-style: italic;">try telling that to people now days, they don't believe you).</span><br /><br />It has been raining this afternoon in New York City. The holiday weekend started in early afternoon. Two friends on Facebook refer to the loss of their long-time pets. Another friend is getting a marriage license in CT and will soon legally marry his partner. I am going to General Convention in Anaheim next week. I doubt if I will ever be a twitterer or a tweeterer.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-26003269521539412342009-04-30T11:09:00.001-04:002009-04-30T11:11:32.010-04:00Still the best...Shelley continues to illuminate the beauty of the world, particularly the Missouri Botanical Garden, at her <a href="http://missourigreen.burningbird.net/">Missouri Green</a> site.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-90103417254535487792009-04-20T17:45:00.003-04:002009-04-20T17:46:43.124-04:00After the sunshine...If we are only alloted ten perfect days each year, then we had three in a row this past week. Temps have dropped again, it has been raining outside since morning, and this is probably right for spring. Too warm or too cold and we will lose the lovely spring blooms.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-57247071374459122742009-04-14T11:29:00.003-04:002009-04-14T11:37:59.069-04:00Spring day...The window in my office is cracked open and I can hear the voices of small children playing on the nearby daycare playground. There is a plane above somewhere. It is cloudy today, a perfect day to watch the daffodils already open, to appreciate the splashes of white and pink blooming ornamental cherry and pear trees alongside row houses.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-14874793499550052002008-01-09T11:35:00.001-05:002008-01-09T11:38:16.510-05:00we interupt this season for a reminder what spring feels like...Today is the second day of spring season in New York. Yesterday and today have been completely perfect days after a week of bitter cold, and it is hard to think of life as anything but pleasant with such weather.<br /><br />Winter will return, but today I have my windows open and the fan on low. A cool breeze is blowing through, and I hear the voices of children playing outside. Franklin the dog and I had a long walk this morning ... he chased a squirrel ... life is good.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-60922319740740576112008-01-05T18:49:00.000-05:002008-01-05T18:55:15.563-05:00tests are overThe chimes rang out this afternoon at about 5:15 to signal the end of this year's General Ordination Exams (GOEs). The senior ordination track students have been taking three hour tests twice a day since Wednesday (They only had one test on Friday). These tests are administered by the national Episcopal church.<br /><br />We heard a round of Handel's <i>Hallelujah Chorus</i> and then Beethoven's <i>Ode to Joy</i>. Those of us who live on campus have been quietly slipping down halls and walkways, with signs plastered on the hallways asking for quiet during the testing periods.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-37697580119554813052008-01-04T09:28:00.001-05:002008-01-04T09:31:05.411-05:00coldThe winds started a few days ago. Franklin the dog and I began our morning walk towards the Chelsea Piers, but the wind was too cold as it came rushing across the Hudson. We turned around.<br /><br />Now the winds have died down and the forecast is for warmer weather.<br /><br />It is often colder in Indianapolis than in New York, but I didn't spend as much time outside on really cold days. So I am quickly relearning wrapping up skills.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-50221438618991814122008-01-01T14:50:00.000-05:002008-01-01T14:56:14.620-05:00new day, new year, same old bloggerI feel like I have been riding a rocket since moving to NYC and starting work at the <a href="http://gts.edu">Seminary</a>. <br /><br />Having been off for more than a week, I have had an opportunity to reflect on last year.<br /><br />I am mostly without dirt on my hands these days ... there are some volunteer opportunities at the seminary that I hope to take advantage of this next year.<br /><br />Living where one works means that I can go a couple of weeks at a time without leaving a 3 block area of Chelsea. This is not healthy. I am committed to having non-seminary experiences, going to the movies once a week with a friend, and finally starting to do some museum visits, something I haven't had much time to do until now.<br /><br />Now that the holiday season is over, I think there will be a period when getting around Manhattan will be a bit easier.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-84167448154834818342007-07-25T14:49:00.000-04:002007-07-25T15:44:52.296-04:00against the dark lordI.<br />Partner and I walked to the Barnes and Noble on Sixth Avenue on Saturday morning and bought our copies of the last Harry Potter book. This is not nearly as thrilling as <a href="http://burningbird.net/stuff/how-i-got-my-harry-potter-book/">Shelley's experience getting her copy</a>.<br /><br />The weather Saturday was much cooler than the humid week preceding it, and I ended up reading the entire book, finally ending at 12:30 am.<br /><br />The best way to experience these novels is on a long car drive listening to the voices of Jim Dale reading the book. His creative interpretive reading is far superior to the actors in the movie versions. The Harry Potter books were great fun to read, but I will not be reflecting about passages that I read through the series. <br /><br />II.<br />On Sunday I started reading Anne Frank's <i>The Diary of a Young Woman</i>, and was surprised at similarity in tone (emerging adolescent, in hiding). Except her book was not a fantasy or an entertainment, and the people she wrote about were real. The epilogue at the end lets us know that it did not turn out well. The dark lord of her book, Adolph Hitler, is not toppled in time to save Anne, and instead we learn that only one person from the hidden Annex survived the war, her father. The rest suffered brutal deaths in the camps.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-42129242350217745702007-07-17T10:23:00.000-04:002007-07-17T11:09:51.909-04:00lady bird, gardenerI.<br /><br />It was in late Spring, 1971, and I won a high school speech contest in Waco that was sponsored by the Garden Clubs. The theme was the environment, and I remember that I had read some of Rachel Carson's book <i>Silent Spring</i> in preparing for it. The world felt scary in 1971 -- we were in an extended war in Vietnam, and there had been several riots in major cities in the preceding summers, my head was full of the apocalyptic warnings of my Baptist faith, and the Cold War was still on. I am sure that I was adamant that we must do something right away. But I cannot remember what it is that I wanted us to do, nearly 40 years later. <br /><br />Somerset Maughn once wrote in his memoirs that politicians off prove that the gift of speech is often not followed by the gift of thought.<br /><br />But as a result of winning, I was invited to speak at a regional luncheon of the Garden Clubs that was held at the Austin Country Club. It was a well-lit room, full of ladies with hats and soft pastel dresses, mostly older. I was a factory worker's son from South Waco, and felt quite out of place. The main speak was Lady Bird Johnson, the former First Lady. She wore a simple blouse and skirt, no hat. "Lyndon and I just got back from Acapulco," I heard her say to the woman who was in charge of the event. We all sat at a head table.<br /><br />She asked me about Waco, always speaking in a soft quiet voice. After I gave my speech, she reached over and whispered to me that it was a real barn burner.<br /><br />II.<br /><br />Years later, when I lived in Austin, a friend and I started walking each day around Town Lake, the small lake in the middle of the downtown. There were a series of crushed granite paths that went along each side of the lake shore past landscaped hills, grasses, flowering trees and wildflower patches. Everybody said that Lady Bird Johnson was responsible for these beautiful pathways along the lake.<br /><br />My first spring living in DC, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the city, bulbs blooming on almost every corner, flowering trees and shrubs, making spring one very long production of wave after wave of color. In Lady Bird's <i>White House Diary</i>, she wrote about going out with the garden club ladies and planting 500,000 daffodils along Rock Creek Parkway. She inspired, pushed and prodded people to help beautify Washington, DC.<br /><br />Hidden on the South Lawn of the White House is a secret children's garden, completely surrounded by trees and shrubs. Mrs. Johnson developed that garden with its rock paths. Inside it, one cannot see or be seen from the gaze of official Washington.<br /><br /><br />III.<br /><br />The campaign in the early 1960s to beautify America was an easy thing to mock. For most people it meant picking up litter, and ok, that was something we should do. But it also means taking the opportunity to tend living things, especially in public places. To take care of living plants, to garden, requires time, and slowing down, paying attention to weather conditions, stopping and looking and touching plants.<br /><br />The effect, the beauty of gardens, is the opposite from what one gets from living and walking and driving by shabby buildings and vacant lots. We respond to the beauty of a river, to the sunlight and breezes alongside it, to the coolness of green shrubs and trees, to the delight of blooming plants, to the mystery of a path that turns and bids us to walk further on, to see and experience place.<br /><br />Of course, gardens are designed, artificial, high maintenance. But I do not think it is an accident that paradise was described as a Garden.<br /><br />IV.<br /><br />Sometime later, Partner and I flew in to Austin to visit with family and friends. Mrs. Johnson was sitting on a bench to one side. A few feet away were, I suppose, her security people. She was waiting for someone who was flying into town. I wanted to go up to her and say thanks for what she had done, how I had enjoyed the beauty in two cities that she had a direct hand in making happen, but she seemed so quiet and in her thoughts, so I walked on by.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-8767585289910244482007-07-10T07:00:00.000-04:002007-07-10T14:07:39.045-04:00sunday morningI.<br />The dog and I begin our early morning walk. People must be away on holiday. The streets, usually quiet, are even more so today. We walk toward the center of the island, and all the five story structures, boarding houses in the 19th century but apartments and homes now that are incredibly expensive, give way to much taller buildings, warehouses and offices and other kinds of commercial activity, intermixed with new condo projects.<br /><br />The streets are littered with the stuff of late night party goers, empty bottles, brochures, cigarette butts. Everywhere we hear the hum of airconditioners and air systems. There are fewer trees in the middle of the city, and I hear no birds chirping.<br /><br />We walk past the avenues, finally reaching again the private <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gramercy_Park">Gramercy Park</a>. It was a marsh in the early 19th century, drained by Samuel Ruggles, a developer who gave a key to each property owner around it. The park is beautifully manicured, with formal walks, planters and planting beds, sculptures and trees. We see a woman walking along the edge, a gray gravel path. We saw her last week, too.<br /><br />The park is lined with a tall iron railing fence, but even that separation allows the beauty of the park on this square to spill out to us, softening the hard surfaces of dirty concrete.<br /><br />II.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/hopper/street/hopper.early-sunday.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/hopper/street/hopper.early-sunday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Edward Hopper has a fairly well-known painting called <a href="http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/hopper/street/hopper.early-sunday.jpg">Early Sunday Morning</a>. It's in the permanent collection of the Whitney Museum, and is a prime example of the loneliness he portrayed in almost all his paintings. In Hopper's world, a person is always an island. Light is more interesting than people. <br /><br />In this painting, Hopper, notoriously introverted, celebrated solitude and aloneness. There is no sound, no people, no wind, only light on a row of shops. As if all life had been eliminated, all movement, all sound, all messy, noisy movement.<br /><br /><br />III.<br />The dog and I walk past the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/presidents/site42.htm">Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace Museum</a>, a recreation of the townhouse in which he was born and grew up. I have not seen it before. Partner told me that it was shrouded in scaffolding recently, so I must have missed it before. The scaffolding is gone. The whole block is in deep shadow and the air is almost stifling.<br /><br />It takes a strong imagination to think of this block as once lined in brownstone townhouses like this one. Someone told me that we should never think of these large family dwellings as "single family." In addition to grandparents, aunts and uncles, these houses also were home to servants, sometimes constituting their own family.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-68880509637312259782007-07-07T09:38:00.000-04:002007-07-07T09:56:13.523-04:00transitionFinally catching my breath, I am starting to get the ordinary details of life arranged, finding a doctor, a vet, a dentist, getting all the citizen work one does after moving to a new location.<br /><br />In denial as a choice, or merely stunned by the rapidity of the move and immediately starting a new job, or both?<br /><br />Painting the apartment will be soon.<br /><br />Meanwhile, the world goes on. I am reading the large volume <i>Gotham</i>, the history of New York City from its founding through the end of the 19th Century. In its entire history, this particular city has faced the tensions and explosions and the value of immigrants. <br /><br />Reflecting on the Fourth of July this year, I fear we Americans are losing the important elements of this country that make us exceptional in a postive way, commitment to constitutional law, rejection of torture, and understanding that in a democracy we fair better when no one group dictates to the exclusion of all the rest. For years, we have heard about the danger of compromise, but looking at the six or seven years of the Bush presidency, where dividing is almost always preferable to uniting, where playing to the base almost always supercedes seeking national consensus, where our differences are heightened to lessen our common goals, then I wonder, like most folk, how much longer till the clock runs out, and we have the opportunity to elect someone who will be president of the entire country.<br /><br />Normally, I hate the long and early campaigns. But this time I am terribly impatient, as are, I assume, many Americans.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-68060634898090045812007-07-05T13:21:00.000-04:002007-07-05T13:25:52.742-04:00after holidayPartner worked yesterday, and I finally finished the cabinet of drawers I started last week. <br /><br />There were fireworks in the city last night, but with rain falling off and on, I stayed inside and read and watched television.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-52970512283367457992007-07-03T09:36:00.001-04:002007-07-03T09:38:46.486-04:00bloomsThe hydrangeas here are blooming. With enough acidity in the soil, there are lots of blue ones, although some are blue with a little pink. I have not seen blue hydrangeas since I lived in DC.<br /><br />I still have to pause when I see a laced cap hydrangea. What an thing of beauty and simple elegance.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-55109303051111172032007-07-02T11:30:00.000-04:002007-07-02T14:05:00.256-04:00a weekendThe weather today is perfect, a high of 75 degrees (F), with blue skies and a gentle breeze. I almost do not know what to do with such weather. I suppose if I were king, we would stop working and go to a park or garden and spend the day reading or working in a garden, something that would not appeal to most people and it would have a negative effect on the economy. So good that I am not king. <br /><br />I spent the weekend assembling a large chest of drawers, part of our effort to make our tiny apartment livable. I am still not finished -- almost, but not quite. We saw <i>110 in the Shade</i>, a revival starring Audre McDonald and John Cullum. It was an austere production with a minimal set, but the acting and singing was excellent.<br /><br />The dog and I walked all the way east to Grammercy Park and back for our morning walk. In the afternoon I walked Partner to the Port Authority -- he was off to Jersey for his internship.<br /><br />They're filming on our street for <i>Law and Order SVU</i> today. The trucks are lined up along one side of the street. People with headsets and walkie talkies roam the sidewalk.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-49856116473695153522007-06-29T03:57:00.000-04:002007-06-29T05:53:16.851-04:00my dog's voiceIt is three in the morning, and I have enough things on my mind to convince me that it is a moot point to think that I will fall back to sleep. There is no culprit here, no major things, only mundane work related deadlines and such that form a loop in my thoughts that replay over and over. <br /><br />Franklin the dog lies in a perfect line between partner and me, perfect in the sense that in the past his inclination is always to sleep across the bed. In this smaller space he adapts to the human pattern of sleeping north-south rather than east-west. Maybe he will stay in bed, I think to myself as I decide to get up.<br /><br />I grab a couple of books to take with me to the living room and find my glasses. By the time I am ready to get up, he is standing on the edge of the bed, prepared to make his leap down to the ground. I grab him under my arm and set him down on the floor.<br /><br />We quietly walk down the hall, and he stands next to me, waiting. I look up, and he is patiently standing there looking at me. This is all done in silence, but it is as if we had a conversation that went something like:<br /><br />Me: <i>I thought you might be sleepy enough to go right back to sleep.</i><br /><br />Him: <i>I need to go outside.</i><br /><br />Me: <i>Five minutes ago, you were in a deepl sleep.</i><br /><br />Him: <i>I need to go outside.</i><br /><br />Me: <i>Ok, ok. </i><br /><br />Him: <i>Thank you</i>. <br /><br />This is only in my imagination, of course, but I wonder if his <i>Thank you</i> is sarcastic, as in <i>What took you so long to understand that if you're up, I'm up, and if you go to the bathroom, then it is only right that I get a shot at doing so as well. Afterall, my bladder is smaller than yours...</i><br /><br /> I get his leash and we go downstairs.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-71564607218032716482007-06-22T10:55:00.000-04:002007-06-22T10:59:10.041-04:00the goodCook weather blew in this week. Most of our rain has been like Camelot, at night. What's to complain about that?<br /><br />Meanwhile I fight a back pain that makes me grumpy.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-66909756999677602542007-06-18T09:00:00.000-04:002007-06-20T11:32:33.986-04:00imagining new jerseyI.<br /><br />Across the river is New Jersey. I can see it as I walk along the trail next to the Hudson River. Most New York City maps omit New Jersey. Traveling into the city by car or train, one moves along on a freeway or through a tunnel, never seeing the actual streets and buildings of the towns and cities on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. It is as if there is no knowledge, no naming for the folk who live there.<br /><br />What is that city, I ask, pestering a friend as we walk along the Hudson Park trail. New Jersey, she says. I know, but what city? Hoboken, she says with a hint of a question in her voice.<br /><br />I learn that a line where the Holland tunnel crosses the river from Manhattan to New Jersey actually goes on to divide Hoboken from Jersey City. Jersey City is across from the Statue of Liberty, Manhattan and Staten Island (the hill in the distance beyond the statue). There is a giant Pepsi clock at the edge of JC's new downtown.<br /><br />Tallest building in New Jersey, someone at work tells me about the clipped office tower by the sign. Another says that Merrill Lynch built its headquarters there. Everybody said, why Jersey City? Now it is booming. Almost another burough of the city. <br /><br />Partner is working at a hospital in Jersey City this summer, in the not so booming part. This is the poorest county in New Jersey, he tells me. <br /><br />II.<br />The water taxis cross the Hudson (or the North River) or move up and down it every morning, some moving faster than others, much like the rythym of commuters walking on land. Between me and the Westside Highway is a dedicated two lane path for bicyclers, serious joggers, and roller bladers. To get to the park path, I must cross the Highway, a six lane road as well as the fast path. The cars stop by light, but the fast path folk are in a zone of speed priveledge, which means that they ignore the yield to pedestrians sign, cursing us if we are too slow crossing while they are riding along.<br /><br />Once past the noise of the highway and the rush of the joggers and bicyclers, I am walking alongside the Chelsea Piers. I must walk south past another pier and past the ruins of the early Cunard line pier, and then a garbage or sanitation transfer area, before I finally get to the park.<br /><br />III.<br />At that point, the river view opens up, and if the morning sun is out, the buildings on the Jersey side reflect the golden, sandy aura of sunshine splashing on their sides. At those moments, I could be looking at the New York version of scenes from 18th century paintings of the Grand Canal in Venice.<br /><br />This morning, there is a gray overcast, with heavy, humid air. The Statue of Liberty is a dark spot in the mist, an asymetrical steeple. Floating through the middle of this is a large cruise ship. I look up river, and the tug boat is waiting at the spot where it will escort the ship to its pier.<br /><br />A few people are standing on the deck, small spots of folk looking at cloudy Manhattan. On the other side, there must be last minute packing, someone looking into New Jersey.<br /><br />IV. <br />Further south, the isle of m bends back, and as I look down toward the tip, I see the tall buildings of Wall Street and Battery Park. In the movie <em>Sabrina</em>, Humphrey Bogard looked down from one of those buildings, looking up river to the piers north of here, where the ocean liners docked. The Chelsea piers are where the movie <i>On the Waterfront</i> were set. These were all imaginary works.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-25541917979535865912007-06-12T09:53:00.000-04:002007-06-12T10:04:28.794-04:00da bombThere have been news reports today that the U.S. Air Force laboratory in Dayton, Ohio seriously considered a proposal to create a non-lethal bomb that would make enemy soldiers homosexual, thereby creating division among the ranks and making them incapable of fighting. First proposed in 1994, the Air Force took this very seriously and may have re-looked at it a few times before rejecting the proposal.<br /><br />This is another reason why gay people should be allowed to be open in the military. Think of the millions of dollars that would have been saved by a gay general telling the researchers that they are nuts.<br /><br />It must have been an interesting proposal. One splash and they're singing ...<br /><br /><i>I feel pretty,<br />oh, so pretty.<br />I feel pretty and witty<br />and gay...</I><br /><br />Because stuff like this is so EASY. Meanwhile, the magic wand research project continues.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956447.post-37992158319483032602007-06-06T08:59:00.000-04:002007-06-06T09:24:19.212-04:00movieI work across the street from our apartment, and my office building includes a private park, a rarity for the isle of m. It evidentally is also used for a lot of television, film and magazine shoots. <br /><br />There have been a few since I started, but the big one is later this week. They're filming <i>Revolutionary Road</i>, based on Richard Yate's novel. It was supposed to happen earlier in the week, but a big rain storm made them cancel it.<br /><br />The city has posted a sign that all cars must be moved by a certain time and date or they will be towed. Since the movie is set in the 1950s, and since our apartment is directly across from where they are filming, our air conditioners (all window units) will be removed. Such units weren't prevalent until the early to mid 60s.<br /><br />So if it is hot, I will have to take Franklin the dog to work, because he cannot stay in a hot apartment.Donhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08348048990003701953noreply@blogger.com3