One weekend, at the last minute, my future partner and I decided to take a road trip. Picking me up at work in a rental car late Saturday afternoon we headed northwest. 5 hours later we arrived at our destination, the town of Prairie de Chein, on the Mississippi river, the border between Iowa and Wisconsin. It was October and the midwest had been basking in a freakish warm spell. For the last week high had been in the mid to upper 80's. People were out in droves. As we drove down the main road all the hotels and motels sported signs reading "No Vacancy". In desperation, my partner, leaving me in the car, went into one of the largest hotels to ask where we might get a room for the night.
Returning to the car he tells me what he has found out from the woman at the hotel desk. There is not a single room available in the town. They have been sending people to Dubuque, 90 miles away, although they are not sure if there are rooms available there. She has told us that if our car seats recline we can sleep in the car in the field across from the hotel. If anyone questions us tell them she said it was alright for us to do so, giving us her name.
After a few more minutes of fruitless searching my partner suggests that we return to the hotel and ask the woman if she will rent us pillows and a blanket for the night. Our seats did not recline but the back seat folded down which would make the hatchback a small, cramped and hard but serviceable place to sleep for the night. Upon entering the hotel the woman says "I'm so glad you came back! I found you something!" She handed him a piece of paper with a name and phone number on it. We go to the local casino boat and using the pay phone, cellphones were not ubiquitous then as they are now, dials the number. Speaking over the din of the casino and adjoining lounge he jots down the directions he is given. They go something like this.....
Head south on County Road 91. When you see the big rock on the left turn right. After you cross the second wooden bridge you'll see a barn and a farmhouse, that's the old Miller place. Turn right, go about 2 miles and you'll see the motel of the left. We were in the country.
When my partner says we will be arriving late so how will we get in the man at the motel replies, "It will be the last door on the left on the first floor. I'll leave the key in the lock." We were definitely in the country.
The casino boat sat in the river, which is technically Iowa. In Wisconsin, two feet away across the gangplank that connected the boat to the shore, gambling was illegal. After a period of unsuccessful gaming we crossed the gangplank and simultaneously the state border, returned to the car, said a prayer and headed south on County road 91.
There are no lights on these quiet county roads. Our headlights provided the only illumination. The need to pee became unbearable so we pulled over to the side of the road. As we "answered natures call" we looked up and were mesmerized by the star filled sky. We never experience that many stars at home as the city's glare overwhelms their more delicate brilliance and the beautiful, intricate patterns they create.
Following the directions we were given we do eventually come upon a small two story structure. There was indeed a key in the door of the last room on the left. The interior decor of the room resembled the interior of the ramshackle trailers envisioned by Hollywood set designers that are sometimes featured in slasher movies, fake wood paneling, poor, worn country reproduction furnishings and all.We were not there for the decor, we are there for the bed. Especially considering that it was the only one available for miles in any direction., We tucked ourselves in and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, after settling our bill with the owners; the ones that had provided us with the excessively rural directions of the night before; we began to wind our way thru the farm fields and small towns of Wisconsin. The tiny hamlets struggle for claims to fame, which are proudly provided to you on signs as you enter each one. "Home of the 1963 State High School Champion Falcons", "Home of Miss Wisconsin 1953" and my personal favorite, "The Wild Turkey Hunting Capitol of the World." Think about it, really, who is going to challenge that claim? Who else would want it? One towns overlong explanation is, not the place where the first Gideon bible was left, but the place where the two men first discussed the idea of leaving the bibles in motel rooms nationwide.
We traveled through the bright fall colors enjoying the warm autumn afternoon. We passed cows tranquilly grazing in fields, it was Wisconsin. We stopped at a farm stand and purchased gourds, jams, cider and fresh fruits and vegetables.
Stopping at the border we bought the obligatory cheese before crossing into Illinois and heading home.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Oshkosh, Wisconsin
Illinois neighbor to the north is the state of Wisconsin, known as "America's Dairyland". I sometimes say, only half jokingly, that as you leave they check your car at the border to ensure that you have purchased cheese during your stay. In truth, there are shops selling a variety of cheese products at all state border crossings.
I have a friend who grew up in, and whose family still lives in, Oshkosh, a city famous for the clothing company which carries it's name. It is a relatively small city in both physical size, 24 square miles, and population, around 66,000. It contains a number of historic structures, primarily due to the wealth generated by the timber industry in the late 19th and early 20th century, including a modest home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
My friend's family lives on a county road, yet still within the borders of the city. The home was part of a dairy farm, it is Wisconsin after all. A second home, a classic example of the Arts and Crafts movement, was rescued by the family from demolition during an urban renewal project. It sits next door to the original house on the property. There is a hay barn and the dairy barn, some of the milking equipment still in place. The grounds around the homes and outbuildings are well manicured. The rest of the property has been allowed to return to it's former state of prairie grasses and wildflowers. Wild hares and mice thrive in the tall grasses. Hawks float overhead. My friend's father and I once stood at the edge of the wild growth watching two adult hawks teaching their young to hunt.
My friend once told me the story of the house. Originally a much older home stood on the site. Apparently the husband who owned it was constantly telling his wife he would build her a new home to replace the old one. After postponing construction time and again the wife's patience wore out. She took a sledgehammer to the house causing so much damage that tearing down and rebuilding was the only option. What resulted was the charming one and a half story home that stands today.
The upper floor, where the bedrooms are located, is a cozy space of sloping ceiling lines and dormer windows. The mix of furnishings, punctuated by country antiques, makes the home feel comfortable, loved and lived in. Off the master bedroom is a deck built on top of the home's first floor mud room. The mud room is the entrance to the house. It opens into the kitchen, which is the heart and soul of this home. There is a front door the the house as well, but I can truthfully say that in all my visits there I have never seen anyone use it. The dining room has built in cabinets in it's corners showcasing a collection of transfer printed pottery. Racks containing a collection of silver spoons hang on one wall. A small book lined study sits at the back of the house. Out the living room's window cows can be seen grazing in the field across the road. Alas, the last time I was there this bucolic scene had begun to morph into the tract homes of a subdivision. In the basement a bar and pool table share space with the family's Christmas decorations.
Each year the Experimental Aircraft Association holds an event called AirVenture. People flying in from all over the world to display their small aircraft gives the city's municipal airfield, for this one weekend each year, the distinction of being the busiest airport in the world. Oh those magnificent men in their flying machines! My first visit to Oshkosh was to experience this aeronautical spectacle. 5 of us, plus their son, descended upon this hapless family that weekend. We took over the upper floor of the house, his parents graciously giving up their bedroom, sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room. I went to the air show knowing almost nothing about experimental aviation. I left knowing that it was a venture entirely out of my price range. The visit ended with a Sunday family lunch of hearty country fare prior to our drive home. 3 generations of this wonderful family graced the table that afternoon.
Subsequent trips revolved around the family's annual fall barn dance. Shopping at Goodwill and antique malls filled the afternoons. On occasion short visits to a local lighthouse were made, as a constant fellow on these trips is fond of them. He was fonder still when he discovered that this particular lighthouse carries his last name. Further investigation revealed that he is distantly related to the family that owns and maintains the structure.
In the evening the dance commences. It is a major event in the area and draws a large crowd. As it is Wisconsin there is a fair assortment of Packer's attire on display. The scene is peppered with guests sporting combinations of Green and Yellow and G's and B's. Hay bales provide seating, plank tables groan under the weight of kegs of beer and plates of candied apples. Jack o' Lanterns, carved by the lighthouse lover, flicker and two stepping couples fill the floor.
One dance of the night is reserved for the hosts, the parents of my friend. After over four decades of marriage the look they shared as they moved across the dance floor to the strains of "I Only Have Eyes For You" displayed a deep and abiding love that is beautiful, inspiring and enviable.
I wander outside. The barn blocks out the lights from the house and grounds as we sit behind it. I enjoy the crisp, fresh coolness of the fall night air and look up through the darkness at the multitude of twinkling lights in the broad, crystal clear, midwestern sky. I could not live in the country, but it's a great place to visit once in a while!
I have a friend who grew up in, and whose family still lives in, Oshkosh, a city famous for the clothing company which carries it's name. It is a relatively small city in both physical size, 24 square miles, and population, around 66,000. It contains a number of historic structures, primarily due to the wealth generated by the timber industry in the late 19th and early 20th century, including a modest home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
My friend's family lives on a county road, yet still within the borders of the city. The home was part of a dairy farm, it is Wisconsin after all. A second home, a classic example of the Arts and Crafts movement, was rescued by the family from demolition during an urban renewal project. It sits next door to the original house on the property. There is a hay barn and the dairy barn, some of the milking equipment still in place. The grounds around the homes and outbuildings are well manicured. The rest of the property has been allowed to return to it's former state of prairie grasses and wildflowers. Wild hares and mice thrive in the tall grasses. Hawks float overhead. My friend's father and I once stood at the edge of the wild growth watching two adult hawks teaching their young to hunt.
My friend once told me the story of the house. Originally a much older home stood on the site. Apparently the husband who owned it was constantly telling his wife he would build her a new home to replace the old one. After postponing construction time and again the wife's patience wore out. She took a sledgehammer to the house causing so much damage that tearing down and rebuilding was the only option. What resulted was the charming one and a half story home that stands today.
The upper floor, where the bedrooms are located, is a cozy space of sloping ceiling lines and dormer windows. The mix of furnishings, punctuated by country antiques, makes the home feel comfortable, loved and lived in. Off the master bedroom is a deck built on top of the home's first floor mud room. The mud room is the entrance to the house. It opens into the kitchen, which is the heart and soul of this home. There is a front door the the house as well, but I can truthfully say that in all my visits there I have never seen anyone use it. The dining room has built in cabinets in it's corners showcasing a collection of transfer printed pottery. Racks containing a collection of silver spoons hang on one wall. A small book lined study sits at the back of the house. Out the living room's window cows can be seen grazing in the field across the road. Alas, the last time I was there this bucolic scene had begun to morph into the tract homes of a subdivision. In the basement a bar and pool table share space with the family's Christmas decorations.
Each year the Experimental Aircraft Association holds an event called AirVenture. People flying in from all over the world to display their small aircraft gives the city's municipal airfield, for this one weekend each year, the distinction of being the busiest airport in the world. Oh those magnificent men in their flying machines! My first visit to Oshkosh was to experience this aeronautical spectacle. 5 of us, plus their son, descended upon this hapless family that weekend. We took over the upper floor of the house, his parents graciously giving up their bedroom, sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room. I went to the air show knowing almost nothing about experimental aviation. I left knowing that it was a venture entirely out of my price range. The visit ended with a Sunday family lunch of hearty country fare prior to our drive home. 3 generations of this wonderful family graced the table that afternoon.
Subsequent trips revolved around the family's annual fall barn dance. Shopping at Goodwill and antique malls filled the afternoons. On occasion short visits to a local lighthouse were made, as a constant fellow on these trips is fond of them. He was fonder still when he discovered that this particular lighthouse carries his last name. Further investigation revealed that he is distantly related to the family that owns and maintains the structure.
In the evening the dance commences. It is a major event in the area and draws a large crowd. As it is Wisconsin there is a fair assortment of Packer's attire on display. The scene is peppered with guests sporting combinations of Green and Yellow and G's and B's. Hay bales provide seating, plank tables groan under the weight of kegs of beer and plates of candied apples. Jack o' Lanterns, carved by the lighthouse lover, flicker and two stepping couples fill the floor.
One dance of the night is reserved for the hosts, the parents of my friend. After over four decades of marriage the look they shared as they moved across the dance floor to the strains of "I Only Have Eyes For You" displayed a deep and abiding love that is beautiful, inspiring and enviable.
I wander outside. The barn blocks out the lights from the house and grounds as we sit behind it. I enjoy the crisp, fresh coolness of the fall night air and look up through the darkness at the multitude of twinkling lights in the broad, crystal clear, midwestern sky. I could not live in the country, but it's a great place to visit once in a while!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Chicago Is
My partner has been posting on Face book a series of photos entitled "My Kind of Town". They feature diverse views of Chicago, the city we call home. I have never regretted, in fact often rejoiced, at my decision to move here over twenty five years ago. Knowing after 6 months of unemployment I would soon be returning to the workforce, and with our early fall weather generally being some of the finest of the year, I decided to take in just a small amount of what the city offers.
The Goodman Theater
This is a season ticket I subscribe to. The opening production just happened to coincide with my final moments of unemployment before beginning new job training the next day. I enjoyed a rare, albeit somewhat uneven, production of Tennesee Williams "Sweet Bird of Youth". With the high level of production values I have come to expect from this award winning theatre and featuring the outstanding performance of Diane Lane in the role of Alexandria Del Lago, it was a wonderful way to kick off a new chapter of my life.
The Lincoln Park Zoo
We try to get here a least once a year. A zebra had just given birth and the new foal, less than one month old, was a delight to watch as it's mother kept a vigilant eye over it's every move. There were several other newborns on display, a reflection of the zoo's successful breeding programs. With it's free admission, easy access via public transportation and lush park setting, it is well worth a visit from tourists and residents alike.
Outside the zoo's main entrance, across an expanse of green lawn, colorful flowerbeds and fountains sporting a blue green patina, stands the late 19th century conservatory. Temporary and permanent exhibitions share space inside the historic glass and steel structure. Admission to it is also free.
Through the back entrance to the zoo, a few steps to the north, is the tranquil oasis of the lily pond. Restored just a few years ago the waters of the pond provide a home for ducks and turtles. Again lushly landscaped, featuring Arts and Crafts style pavilions, it feels a world apart from the busy city streets less that a block away.
A Birthday Lunch with Friends
Again, I had no control over the timing of this, it was just coincidence that it took place during my last free weekend. Chicago contains an almost embarrassing wealth of unique and outstanding restaurants. Ranging from expensive fine dining to small neighborhood haunts there is something for every taste and budget.
This celebration was held in the private downstairs dining room of one of the city's finest Mexican restaurants. the guests ranged from the "Birthday Boy's" young granddaughters to his siblings. Our table was hosted by his daughter. He recognised us, during the obligatory speech; my partner in particular, for our assistance on his daughter's wedding day. The food was outstanding. The city's restaurants are not something we get to take advantage of very often making the rare opportunities to do so all the more special and memorable.
The Art Institute
We maintain a membership to this world class institution. They had mounted a special exhibition of 18th and 19th century textiles culled from their permanent collection. Bedcovers, samplers, quilts and even embroidered lace bonnet veils were displayed. An immense, spectacular star quilt, which had managed to retain it's bright colors, was one of the highlights here. A beautiful white bedcover had delicate stitching depicting flowers spilling out of a cornucopia in it's center. Mourning samplers were lovingly rendered remembrances of cherished ones who had passed on. Other samplers almost looked as if they were paintings due to the tight, thick stitches used to create them . Some of the pieces possessed extensive provenances including dates of birth, deaths and marriages of the previous owners. The incredible amount of work involved in crafting these pieces insured their status as treasured family heirlooms and contribute to their knowledge of their provenance and remarkable state of preservation.
This impressive exhibit made me think of the many other pieces of art and history that are stored out of sight in museums collections, not displayed due to lack of space or the fragile nature of the artifacts. When I first moved to Chicago I interviewed for a position in the cash office of the Art Institute. As I was led back to the managers office I vividly remember, decorating the cubicles and hanging on the office managers walls, the oil paintings in their elaborate gilt frames.
The museum does periodically change, reorganize and rotate some of it's exhibitions. A recent change is 10 pieces by Toulouse Lautrec, formerly interspersed with other works, pulled together in one gallery.
I have found that in museums you experience not only art but are often given the opportunity to experience and appreciate moments. As I moved through the modern wing I noticed a young woman speaking in French to a group of small children sitting on the floor gazing at a work by Jackson Pollock.
A minor disappointment, Hopper's "Nighthawks", one of my favorite pieces, is once again on loan.Tempering my slight dismay was that we had loaned it to a museum in Paris, securing my city's reputation as a repository of world class art.
The Goodman Theater
This is a season ticket I subscribe to. The opening production just happened to coincide with my final moments of unemployment before beginning new job training the next day. I enjoyed a rare, albeit somewhat uneven, production of Tennesee Williams "Sweet Bird of Youth". With the high level of production values I have come to expect from this award winning theatre and featuring the outstanding performance of Diane Lane in the role of Alexandria Del Lago, it was a wonderful way to kick off a new chapter of my life.
The Lincoln Park Zoo
We try to get here a least once a year. A zebra had just given birth and the new foal, less than one month old, was a delight to watch as it's mother kept a vigilant eye over it's every move. There were several other newborns on display, a reflection of the zoo's successful breeding programs. With it's free admission, easy access via public transportation and lush park setting, it is well worth a visit from tourists and residents alike.
Outside the zoo's main entrance, across an expanse of green lawn, colorful flowerbeds and fountains sporting a blue green patina, stands the late 19th century conservatory. Temporary and permanent exhibitions share space inside the historic glass and steel structure. Admission to it is also free.
Through the back entrance to the zoo, a few steps to the north, is the tranquil oasis of the lily pond. Restored just a few years ago the waters of the pond provide a home for ducks and turtles. Again lushly landscaped, featuring Arts and Crafts style pavilions, it feels a world apart from the busy city streets less that a block away.
A Birthday Lunch with Friends
Again, I had no control over the timing of this, it was just coincidence that it took place during my last free weekend. Chicago contains an almost embarrassing wealth of unique and outstanding restaurants. Ranging from expensive fine dining to small neighborhood haunts there is something for every taste and budget.
This celebration was held in the private downstairs dining room of one of the city's finest Mexican restaurants. the guests ranged from the "Birthday Boy's" young granddaughters to his siblings. Our table was hosted by his daughter. He recognised us, during the obligatory speech; my partner in particular, for our assistance on his daughter's wedding day. The food was outstanding. The city's restaurants are not something we get to take advantage of very often making the rare opportunities to do so all the more special and memorable.
The Art Institute
We maintain a membership to this world class institution. They had mounted a special exhibition of 18th and 19th century textiles culled from their permanent collection. Bedcovers, samplers, quilts and even embroidered lace bonnet veils were displayed. An immense, spectacular star quilt, which had managed to retain it's bright colors, was one of the highlights here. A beautiful white bedcover had delicate stitching depicting flowers spilling out of a cornucopia in it's center. Mourning samplers were lovingly rendered remembrances of cherished ones who had passed on. Other samplers almost looked as if they were paintings due to the tight, thick stitches used to create them . Some of the pieces possessed extensive provenances including dates of birth, deaths and marriages of the previous owners. The incredible amount of work involved in crafting these pieces insured their status as treasured family heirlooms and contribute to their knowledge of their provenance and remarkable state of preservation.
This impressive exhibit made me think of the many other pieces of art and history that are stored out of sight in museums collections, not displayed due to lack of space or the fragile nature of the artifacts. When I first moved to Chicago I interviewed for a position in the cash office of the Art Institute. As I was led back to the managers office I vividly remember, decorating the cubicles and hanging on the office managers walls, the oil paintings in their elaborate gilt frames.
The museum does periodically change, reorganize and rotate some of it's exhibitions. A recent change is 10 pieces by Toulouse Lautrec, formerly interspersed with other works, pulled together in one gallery.
I have found that in museums you experience not only art but are often given the opportunity to experience and appreciate moments. As I moved through the modern wing I noticed a young woman speaking in French to a group of small children sitting on the floor gazing at a work by Jackson Pollock.
A minor disappointment, Hopper's "Nighthawks", one of my favorite pieces, is once again on loan.Tempering my slight dismay was that we had loaned it to a museum in Paris, securing my city's reputation as a repository of world class art.
Leaving the Nest - Dedicated to My Brother
One of the things I enjoy as fall moves to winter and the trees finally concede to the season dropping their last leaves are the birds nests that appear nestled in their branches. Hidden by the foliage of summer, as they are exposed they serve as a reminder and promise of the rebirth and eventual warmth of a new spring. Some are reused and new ones are constructed. Lined and padded with grass and leaves, sometimes lint or bits of paper, they create warm, safe, snug places to lay and hatch eggs and rear young.
I have seen a blanket made of down stretched over the nest of a goose. The mother sacrifices her own coat to serve the fragile lives developing inside the eggs it covers. I have watched as she turns each egg with her bill to ensure the correct formation of that small life. I have been warned away when the mother or drake feel that I have ventured too close to their painstakingly cared for treasures.
Parents nurture their young, helpless in their newborn, unfeathered state. Mothers ferry food to them inside themselves and, when the time comes, teach them to fly. Eventually, they spread their wings and leave the nest, independent and free.
Recently, my brother's youngest child moved out of the home he and her mother had created with her. Her departure was met with what seemed a mixture of sadness and depression. I have known other parents whose emotional experience was similar after the departure of their children., I have never raised a child. I cannot empathise, only sympathise with these feelings. Perhaps it is loneliness. Perhaps it is a feeling of no longer being needed by the one that has always needed you most. But when children have the strength, will and determination to leave the security of their childhood home and face the uncertainty that defines adulthood it means that as a parent you have done your job exceedingly well. You have provided your child with the education, tools and insight to face the next phase of their lives and all that it will present to them.
Children never stop needing their parents. They will return for advise and love or for their comfort during difficult periods. They will also return to share their joy during happy times. A true love met or the expectation of a new life. There is no greater teacher in the rearing of a child than those that have done it before.
Children never truly leave home. They move away, but they always carry their home with them. It is part of the foundation they use to build their own home. As their children grow and move away that home travels with them also. Although they may no longer live with you, your children are always at home.
I have seen a blanket made of down stretched over the nest of a goose. The mother sacrifices her own coat to serve the fragile lives developing inside the eggs it covers. I have watched as she turns each egg with her bill to ensure the correct formation of that small life. I have been warned away when the mother or drake feel that I have ventured too close to their painstakingly cared for treasures.
Parents nurture their young, helpless in their newborn, unfeathered state. Mothers ferry food to them inside themselves and, when the time comes, teach them to fly. Eventually, they spread their wings and leave the nest, independent and free.
Recently, my brother's youngest child moved out of the home he and her mother had created with her. Her departure was met with what seemed a mixture of sadness and depression. I have known other parents whose emotional experience was similar after the departure of their children., I have never raised a child. I cannot empathise, only sympathise with these feelings. Perhaps it is loneliness. Perhaps it is a feeling of no longer being needed by the one that has always needed you most. But when children have the strength, will and determination to leave the security of their childhood home and face the uncertainty that defines adulthood it means that as a parent you have done your job exceedingly well. You have provided your child with the education, tools and insight to face the next phase of their lives and all that it will present to them.
Children never stop needing their parents. They will return for advise and love or for their comfort during difficult periods. They will also return to share their joy during happy times. A true love met or the expectation of a new life. There is no greater teacher in the rearing of a child than those that have done it before.
Children never truly leave home. They move away, but they always carry their home with them. It is part of the foundation they use to build their own home. As their children grow and move away that home travels with them also. Although they may no longer live with you, your children are always at home.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
An October Afternoon
It is the sort of, almost mythic fall day one dreams about. Some trees have been stripped bare and are beginning their winter slumber. Most still wear their autumn garland of color. A few leaves remain stubbornly green, refusing to succumb to the diminishing daylight. The sun at this late hour, at this time of year low in the sky, sends a shaft of bright warmth down the canyon formed by the highrises which line each side of our lakefront street. The warmth tempts the students, recently arrived at the nearby college, to run shirtless to and from their lakefront jogs.
In the playground children run about in their seemingly aimless fashion. Yelling, giggling, their sweet innocent faces express the joy of playing outside on this beautiful day. Soon this play will change. Shorts will give way to long pants, heavy coats, hats, gloves and scarfs. It will be a season of snow. Sledding, snowmen and throwing handfuls of powder into the air to watch it float down around them, or forming it into balls and throwing them at each other will be the order of the day.
But, for now, there is the warm sunlight, gentle breeze and peace and contentment that come from experiencing a glorious day.
In the playground children run about in their seemingly aimless fashion. Yelling, giggling, their sweet innocent faces express the joy of playing outside on this beautiful day. Soon this play will change. Shorts will give way to long pants, heavy coats, hats, gloves and scarfs. It will be a season of snow. Sledding, snowmen and throwing handfuls of powder into the air to watch it float down around them, or forming it into balls and throwing them at each other will be the order of the day.
But, for now, there is the warm sunlight, gentle breeze and peace and contentment that come from experiencing a glorious day.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
My New Commute - Mid Autumn
With a new job comes a new commute. This one is somewhat different than any I have had before. Each day I take a short, 10 to 15 minute train trip from Chicago's northern border to a suburb located northwest of the city.
It is mid autumn. The leaves are more colorful than I had dared hope after the drought and extraordinary heat we experienced over the summer. Initially the train runs through a tangle of these leaves. Yellow, colored by the fading sunlight of the season, mixes with the last, remaining green of summer. I am learning to overlook the rail maintenance yard and water treatment plant that follows. In an odd juxtaposition, the stately administration building which stands watch over the bubbling cauldrons of recycled water is a study of classic art deco beauty. Soon there is a grass easement on either side of the train sprinkled with yellow wild flowers and queen anne's lace. One evening a doe and her fawn stood in the grass as the train passed.
Neighborhoods of cozy late mid century bungalows sitting side by side along tree lined streets appear. The trees are an autumn rainbow of orange, green, yellow and red. Masses of other treetops can be seen in the distance. The soft transition from one autumn shade to another look almost as if they could have been painted by Monet, had he not been obsessed with his palette of soft pastels.
At my rides end stands the historic first train station for this suburb. Built in 1924 it is an excellent example of Prairie School architecture. It has been moved 130 feet east from it's original location. Today it houses a Starbucks and a company which assists people with declaring bankruptcy. As I think of the lack of respect for the building and it's history that this use shows I am heartened by the fact that there was enough respect to keep it from being bulldozed into a memory.
It is mid autumn. The leaves are more colorful than I had dared hope after the drought and extraordinary heat we experienced over the summer. Initially the train runs through a tangle of these leaves. Yellow, colored by the fading sunlight of the season, mixes with the last, remaining green of summer. I am learning to overlook the rail maintenance yard and water treatment plant that follows. In an odd juxtaposition, the stately administration building which stands watch over the bubbling cauldrons of recycled water is a study of classic art deco beauty. Soon there is a grass easement on either side of the train sprinkled with yellow wild flowers and queen anne's lace. One evening a doe and her fawn stood in the grass as the train passed.
Neighborhoods of cozy late mid century bungalows sitting side by side along tree lined streets appear. The trees are an autumn rainbow of orange, green, yellow and red. Masses of other treetops can be seen in the distance. The soft transition from one autumn shade to another look almost as if they could have been painted by Monet, had he not been obsessed with his palette of soft pastels.
At my rides end stands the historic first train station for this suburb. Built in 1924 it is an excellent example of Prairie School architecture. It has been moved 130 feet east from it's original location. Today it houses a Starbucks and a company which assists people with declaring bankruptcy. As I think of the lack of respect for the building and it's history that this use shows I am heartened by the fact that there was enough respect to keep it from being bulldozed into a memory.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Guilty Pleasures - Televised Eye Candy
In my youth television consisted of 3 channels, and even these stopped broadcasting at 11 p.m. or so. Under these spartan conditions my adolescent televised eye candy, although I did not acknowledge it as such at the time, consisted of the eldest of Fred McMurrays "Three Sons", James West, in his impossibly tight pants, and on occasion Greg Brady. Today television offers us a copious number of channels 24 hours a day and almost unlimited opportunities for satisfying our more lurid visual fetishes. Following are some of my personal favorites.
The Tudors
Although I can claim some small level of dignity with this choice citing it's quasi historical basis, it essentially amounts to a bunch of very comely people running about engaging in political backstabbing and blackmail and extramarital coitus. One of the actors, after bulking up, is the latest choice to play Superman, since the 80's a character they keep trying unsuccessfully to make sexy. Maybe this time they will get it right and get past the underlying goody two shoes nature of the previous attempts which made the "Man of Steel" about as sexually appealing as an unfrosted donut. In some episodes clothing seems to be more off than on and costumes, when worn, appear to be designed by someone fond of tight leather boots and leggings. Nothing even slightly erotic about that. The sets, costumes, leather aside, jewels and locales are lush and spectacular and the scripts and storylines complex. Which keeps me from feeling particularly dirty as I watch it. Then again, maybe I am a master at justification.
The Mentalist
O.k., this one is completely indefensible. While I enjoy the manner in which the crimes on the show are solved, it is also the cast which captures my attention and keeps me whiling away portions of my life watching it. There is the tall, hot detective. Lean and handsome, he also looks somewhat stupid, which is not always an undesirable trait. The stoic Asian detective I also find appealing. Which is odd in that I never even remotely considered myself a "rice queen". Perhaps it is his solid, thick physique, showcased in tight fitting short sleeved dress shirts and ties. This is a fashion choice which usually makes me cringe, however in this case I am willing to give it a pass. In one episode, I was finally able to catch a glimpse of him clad only in boxer shorts. It seemed to make some of the time I have spent watching this worthwhile.
Merlin
I only recently discovered this one. I can, again, maintain my dignity while viewing by remarking on it's period set and costumes, although I suspect they are a conglomeration of several different periods, and the inclusion of the noted thespian John Hurt as the voice of the dragon...alright, maybe that's a stretch.
I must also admit I enjoy the two male leads. Merlin is adorable in a jug earred twinkie sort of way. He possesses a delightful impish smile. He is complimented nicely by the blond underwear model who plays the young King Arthur. Great care appears to have been taken to ensure that Arthur is often seen in various stages of undress. In the series 4th season, and extraordinarily tall, handsome supporting actor has been added to the cast. The actor, playing the role of the knight with the decidedly unbutch name of Percival, always seems to have his rippling, powerful arms bared, whereas the arms of the other knights in those same scenes are covered by not only tunic sleeves, but also gauntlets and chain mail armour.
The plots and subplots of this BBC production while often witty and engaging, are not it's only attractions.
I will admit to sometimes reverting to my youth and watching a rerun of "Wild Wild West", paying particular attention to the episodes where Robert Conrad dons the leather chaps his character is so fond of. Although often neglecting to wear a shirt, a favorite episode of mine is one in which he forgets his shirt while wearing the aforementioned chaps. When viewing this episode I can't help noting that there are several bars I am aware of where he would not only fit in but be very popular.
One question has always vexed me though. How was he able to sit down, let alone fight bad guys and swing his leg over to ride a horse, while wearing those tight pants?
The Tudors
Although I can claim some small level of dignity with this choice citing it's quasi historical basis, it essentially amounts to a bunch of very comely people running about engaging in political backstabbing and blackmail and extramarital coitus. One of the actors, after bulking up, is the latest choice to play Superman, since the 80's a character they keep trying unsuccessfully to make sexy. Maybe this time they will get it right and get past the underlying goody two shoes nature of the previous attempts which made the "Man of Steel" about as sexually appealing as an unfrosted donut. In some episodes clothing seems to be more off than on and costumes, when worn, appear to be designed by someone fond of tight leather boots and leggings. Nothing even slightly erotic about that. The sets, costumes, leather aside, jewels and locales are lush and spectacular and the scripts and storylines complex. Which keeps me from feeling particularly dirty as I watch it. Then again, maybe I am a master at justification.
The Mentalist
O.k., this one is completely indefensible. While I enjoy the manner in which the crimes on the show are solved, it is also the cast which captures my attention and keeps me whiling away portions of my life watching it. There is the tall, hot detective. Lean and handsome, he also looks somewhat stupid, which is not always an undesirable trait. The stoic Asian detective I also find appealing. Which is odd in that I never even remotely considered myself a "rice queen". Perhaps it is his solid, thick physique, showcased in tight fitting short sleeved dress shirts and ties. This is a fashion choice which usually makes me cringe, however in this case I am willing to give it a pass. In one episode, I was finally able to catch a glimpse of him clad only in boxer shorts. It seemed to make some of the time I have spent watching this worthwhile.
Merlin
I only recently discovered this one. I can, again, maintain my dignity while viewing by remarking on it's period set and costumes, although I suspect they are a conglomeration of several different periods, and the inclusion of the noted thespian John Hurt as the voice of the dragon...alright, maybe that's a stretch.
I must also admit I enjoy the two male leads. Merlin is adorable in a jug earred twinkie sort of way. He possesses a delightful impish smile. He is complimented nicely by the blond underwear model who plays the young King Arthur. Great care appears to have been taken to ensure that Arthur is often seen in various stages of undress. In the series 4th season, and extraordinarily tall, handsome supporting actor has been added to the cast. The actor, playing the role of the knight with the decidedly unbutch name of Percival, always seems to have his rippling, powerful arms bared, whereas the arms of the other knights in those same scenes are covered by not only tunic sleeves, but also gauntlets and chain mail armour.
The plots and subplots of this BBC production while often witty and engaging, are not it's only attractions.
I will admit to sometimes reverting to my youth and watching a rerun of "Wild Wild West", paying particular attention to the episodes where Robert Conrad dons the leather chaps his character is so fond of. Although often neglecting to wear a shirt, a favorite episode of mine is one in which he forgets his shirt while wearing the aforementioned chaps. When viewing this episode I can't help noting that there are several bars I am aware of where he would not only fit in but be very popular.
One question has always vexed me though. How was he able to sit down, let alone fight bad guys and swing his leg over to ride a horse, while wearing those tight pants?
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