I went to just one college—Trinity College in Connecticut—four years, straight through, with one semester abroad. In many ways, it was the quintessential New England liberal arts college experience, except we were in a city (Hartford), not a rural area. Music was a big part of it. My college memories all come with a soundtrack. That’s one reason I love this blog. If you’re a GenX music lover (and who doesn’t love music?), you need to check it out. He’s a wonderful writer with a great playlist. It’s about as close to my college soundtrack as I can imagine.
Here are a couple photos from Trinity College Spring Weekend 1985. We had the Ramones and Til Tuesday on campus. Til Tuesday leader/songwriter Aimee Mann (with the platinum mohawk) had a huge hit with “Voices Carry,” so I think she was the headliner, but it looks like there was some slam dance/mosh pit energy happening during the Ramones. What could possibly go wrong? (According to classmates on Facebook, something bad did happen that day, but I have no recollection of it. I just remember a good ole time. Funny how memory can be selective like that.)
The Ramones performing at Trinity College, 1985Men slamming to the music – stay out of the way!Til Tuesday Aimee Mann, a Boston musician, wrote “Voices Carry,” a song about an affair, and it was a huge hit in 1985. The QuadStudent with his XL Boombox – very 80s
Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?
I was going to answer “no” to this prompt, but then I remembered I’ve been pretending to feed a giraffe I bought at Boston’s Snowport Holiday Market all week.
Her name is Ginger, because she is made from a ginger beer can. She’s imported from Zimbabwe. So far, my husband and son have refused to pretend she’s real.
Ginger having some basil
As previously mentioned, I have a thing for giraffes. If you haven’t seen the new film Wonka, with Timothée Chalamet, it’s worth it for the giraffe scenes alone. For GenXers, nobody can replace Gene Wilder in the role of Willy Wonka. His laissez-faire attitude toward his bratty visitors (“stop, don’t”) is priceless. But the message of the original film comes through in this latest prequel version of Willy Wonka. It’s all about “Pure Imagination,” which is liberally reprised throughout the new film.
There is no life I know
To compare with pure imagination
Living there, you’ll be free
If youtruly wish to be
For me, nothing evokes pure childhood-like playtime than a good game of pretend.
One challenge I have is being unproductive. I’m lazy by nature. I can sit on my sofa for hours in the morning – drinking coffee and doing things on my phone or laptop. Winter tends to exacerbate this inertia problem.
Now that I’m not working, and the holidays are over, I’m going to have to create a more productive morning routine.
I’ll get on that – tomorrow.
My husband and I had a good laugh about this painting by John Singer Sargent at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. It’s called “Nonchaloir” or Repose. Let’s just say, I could’ve been Sargent’s model for this one.
Happy 2024 to all.
I caught the last hour of GenXers Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen getting drunk on live TV. This segment, when John Mayer calls in from a cat cafe in Tokyo, is just great live television. 😂
Last night I learned that a kind, warm and loving friend, a very good woman, has suffered a sudden and devastating loss. I am gutted for her and her family. There are no words.
Modern wisdom would have you believe that virtually every relationship (except for an abusive one) has a positive impact on you. I’m always reading articles about the “crisis of loneliness” which is leading to “deaths of despair,” especially in men. Apparently even small, positive, daily interactions with other humans can lead to a sense of well-being. I read one article about how self checkout at pharmacies and other stores is depriving the elderly of meaningful opportunities to have face-to-face contact with human clerks and cashiers. If this is true, then extroverts have a distinct advantage. Not everyone is comfortable smiling and engaging strangers in small talk.
As I was saying goodbye to people at work in November, I realized that some of the folks I would miss the most were staff at the garage where I parked in Boston. Three Ethiopian-Americans–Yousef, DJ and Rachel–were there, night and day, helping me out for 10+ years. Parking is a total nightmare in Boston. There are not enough spaces for all the cars and being a part-timer, I never wanted to spring for a monthly spot (which are exorbitantly priced), so I always hustled around to different parking lots trying to get an open spot at a decent rate, until I found MY garage. They were always so kind to me there. They’d take my car, even if they didn’t have an all-day spot open and move it midday. They smiled, asked me how I was, and even gave me my own key to the building, so I could get in or out after hours. They gave me a break on the price and sometimes didn’t charge me at all.
In turn, I smiled and chatted with them a lot, tipped them at Christmas, and tried to help out if they asked me for any advice about American logistical things, like which towns had better schools or how to get services for a child with disabilities. Fortunately, I got to say a proper goodbye to DJ and Yousef and give them a big hug, but sadly, I didn’t see Rachel on my last day. However, about a month prior to my departure (before I knew I was leaving), Rachel said the nicest thing to me. We were chatting as I was paying and about to exit the garage and she told me that she appreciated how I spoke to her and her colleagues. She said I treated them with kindness and respect (unlike some other customers) and that I was “a good woman.” A good woman. Honestly, it brought tears to my eyes then, and still does. Hardworking Rachel, immigrant from Africa, mother of two boys that she’s putting through college on her parking garage wages is a good woman too.
So, maybe the mascot could be a peacock, but like, a mean one.
Image from Pinterest
OK, now I’m just using this prompt as a way to play with AI. Image by ARTA app. I told it to “make an image of a mean peacock in violet, teal, and fuchsia, 4K, digital art.” AI giraffe in my colorsAI rainbow kitten
When I was young, my views were influenced by my parents and the Catholic Church. I remember defending Nancy Reagan in an editorial I wrote for a high school social studies class.
By the time I was a junior in college, I had totally changed my mind about President Reagan. Working in the arts after college, and being exposed to the AIDS activism in that community, opened my eyes further to structural inequities. The fact that the AIDS virus (HIV) was considered a “pre-existing condition” by insurance companies and could leave young, sick people without medical care was very real and horrific to me.
Reagan was so slow to even acknowledge AIDS was a disease (much less a full blown crisis), the arts community was absolutely furious and made a lot of art about it. That had a profound effect on me.
Activist art by the Keith Haring, who died of complications from AIDS in 1990 at age 31
I’ve read some nice posts from other bloggers this morning referencing famous writers. Their posts reminded me how Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own once affected me. It encouraged me to move into my own studio apartment, when I was just out of college. Living without roommates was a little scary, but somehow Woolf’s words from 1928 helped give me courage to live all by myself. I need to re-read that. I liked I.V. Greco’s post, which mentions Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, a book I’ve been meaning to read since my friend Kathy recommended it while I was in Paris. I was never a Hemingway fan, but I’m going to give his Paris memoir a shot. Also, Rebuilding Rob wrote about Henry David Thoreau’s cabin on Walden Pond in his response to this prompt. Another book I need to read.
Now that I’m unemployed/retired, I need to read more books. Perhaps that will be my New Year’s resolution. In addition to Walden, A Moveable Feast, and A Room of One’s Own, I’ve got a lovely book of poetry waiting for me to pick it up. I can tell by the poems that she’s shared in her blog that Ever So Gently by Lauren Scott will be a treat.
Here are a few photos from my most recent trip to Walden Pond in Concord, MA. It was an unusually warm day in very late October. I wonder if Thoreau ever could’ve imagined his Walden would become such a popular, though still pristine, destination for people from around the world. Less than 20 miles from Boston, Walden is an especially popular spot for city residents who just want to get out in nature for the day. I saw several folks perched in quiet spots along the pond reading books, all by themselves.
I’m not a car enthusiast, but I associate certain cars with certain events or periods in my life. For example, Honda minivans will forever remind me of my young parenting years. Those were the largest cars I ever owned.
On the other extreme, my parents owned a blue Volkswagen bug when I was very young. I have an early memory of stuffing myself into a tiny spot in the upper part of the back seat. I remember looking up at the interior ceiling. It had little dots or holes in the material and you could kind of blur your eyes and it created an optical illusion. The dots would seem closer than they actually were, like in a Magic Eye book.
I don’t have a photo of that car, but here I am, around the same time, stretching out my legs in my new red wagon. I fit perfectly!
Do you remember fitting yourself into a small space back when you were tiny?
I’m up early (7:30am) thinking of all the parents of all the young children around the world who have probably been up for two hours already. Santa came! Woo hoo! Enjoy it…these years are a lot of work, but will fly by in the blink of an eye. (Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard this once or twice – or like ten thousand times – before.)
I think my main creative outlet these days, besides singing and this blog, is photography. And I don’t even use a real (35mm) camera anymore, just my iPhone. Here’s a shot I got the other night on my way home from choir. I thought this deer was a holiday lawn ornament, then I realized he was real. I backed up my car, opened my window, and said “hey deer.” This made him stop munching the neighbor’s shrub and look up at me.
We’re not having a white Christmas here in New England, but at least we’ve got (rein)deer.
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