Further Contemplations

Me at the Troy Nature Center with grand kids and Judy recently.  I was accused by one of looking like I was going to cry.  In fact, this is my happy face. They have some man made rock structures at the center and the kids love to climb on them.  They are climbing I am sitting.  My climbing days are over.  Days have been bright and sunny and really hot.  Necessary to take Harry on his long walks early in the morning to beat the heat. 

It seems that smells in some way dictate our view of the world.  Inside, in the kitchen, basil, garlic, smoked paprika, dill and pepper make our surroundings more complete.  I love entering a room where food (except broccoli) is or has been made.  Odor is the first thing you notice. In your mind you say "somethins' cooking". Outside, traveling on our walks honeysuckle, lilac, smell of earth, compost, fresh lawn cutting permeate the olfactory senses. Visually I love the glimmer of wet plants after they have been sprinkled and the look of puddles on the sidewalks reflecting sunlight and the dappled sunlight thru the trees.

I have been reading The Night Trilogy by Elie Wiesel.  Read the first 100 pages in one sitting.  For those unfamiliar it is the story of his young life in Auschwitz and Buchenwald during the second world war followed by 2 novels that also reflect his experiences.  As I read his words, I can feel his pain.  It seems that to be a great storyteller, one needs to know pain and anguish, inserted into the work.  His words draw a picture that the reader can see.  Happy stories are for children.  Torment breeds great storytelling.  Yes, I know really dark but its like he is right in front of me telling his tales.  I can feel him.  Reading his work I am comfortable with the fact that I will never be a great writer, only a poser or at best an essayist and observer.  Grisham is a great spinner of yarns but his characters don't draw out the reader's emotions. 

In my town we have a lovely tree lined street called Beverly.  It has a wide boulevard at its center and the well kept homes are in a variety of styles.  It is my favorite avenue to take Harry walking on quiet sunny mornings. People on porches and doing their gardening are smiley and welcoming. I came upon the thought that what if I were not the old white guy but a fifty-ish black man walking down the street with my little dog. If like me this person smiled and said good morning to the passersby, all would probably be fine.  Methinks that the beginning of building bridges starts with a simple hello. Small, friendly interactions when opportunities arise could help create some comfort. 

Berkley now has some fine art courtesy of the DIA.  This is a Claude Monet reproduction on Harvard St. near Berkley St., a really pleasant find.  I hope there are more around town.  

all for now 

stay cool and safe.