Occupied in Boston

This posting is a bit out of chronological sequence.  I wanted to come up with something insightful to say about Occupy Boston that we visited on Saturday.  But, in truth, I don’t really have much to add to the discussion.

Trudi and I took the commuter rail to North Station where we met Jolie and the three of us proceeded on bikes rented for $5/day from the Hubway bikesharing program to the Occupy Boston site.  We found the Hubway to be a terrific way to get around Beantown, despite a few technical glitches with the bike docking mechanisms when we wanted to return the bikes.

What we found was a collection of tents pitched elbow to elbow on a patch of hardscape called Dewey Square—outside South Station in the heart of Boston’s Financial District.   The encampment smelled like you’d expect it would.  A small rock band played some not very good covers on an elevated stage at one end of the square, interrupted at times by announcements of an administrative sort which reminded me of the infamous Woodstock warning to stay away from the brown acid.  

On further inspection we discovered that there was order to the tent layout, with sleeping areas, a kitchen preparing largely donated food, a commissary for organizing supplies, a medical tent, and even a library.  There are activities planned on the stage throughout the day.  An activist friend of Jolie’s was speaking in the afternoon on the economy and the US military budget.

There wasn’t much of anything happening at about 1pm when we were there, and we didn’t feel ambitious enough to try to start a discussion with residents.  The ubiquitous signage told the story… the greed of a small number of powerful financiers is threatening to bring our democracy down, and we aren’t going to take it any more.

What are my feelings about the Occupy movement?  I applaud these folks in their efforts to exercise their First Amendment rights to freedom of speech and to peaceably assemble.  As the movement has spread to over 100 cities around the US, it certainly has given focus and voice to the frustration and anger a lot of people, including myself,  feel over lost jobs, slashed public services,  and evaporation of hard earned retirement savings.  I fear that the effort will be derailed by inevitable clashes with police enforcing city ordinances that will turn media coverage and public attention away from economic and social issues and  toward instances of “lawlessness”. 

But hooray for the Occupiers for being brave enough to try.  As Paul Krugman wrote in the New York Times last week:

“You see, until a few weeks ago it seemed as if Wall Street had effectively bribed and bullied our political system into forgetting about that whole drawing lavish paychecks while destroying the world economy thing. Then, all of a sudden, some people insisted on bringing the subject up again.”

As for us, we ate some terrific vegan sandwiches from the Clover food truck, and then retrieved bikes from the South Station Hubway dock and pedaled to the Institute of Contemporary Art.  The exhibits were enlightening and the building was way neat, especially the water view.

Detroit Iron

I had the opportunity to walk down memory lane today courtesy of the Swampscott Recreation Department that sponsored an antique car show on the town green.  There were some lovely cars from the 1920's through the 1980's, but I was drawn to those manufactured in the 1950's, when I was a young teen and was as mesmerized by cars as I remember young girls' imaginations were often captured by horses.  I poured over car magazines and studied statistics endlessly about the new car models.

Looking back on that time, these cars represent for me (and I realize this thought is far from original) a brief period when America could do nothing wrong, unemployment was uncommon, US companies still made things that you could touch, and natural resources, including oil, seemed unlimited.  The sheer brashness of the designs, the quantities of chrome and steel, the gaudy paint jobs and geegaws incorporated in the bodywork seem quaint now, but to me also create a - dare I say it - beauty that has never been recaptured by the US auto industry.  And I wonder if, particularly for the 60 and over crowd, being among these dinosaurs from Detroit is somehow comforting, taking us back to a time before terrorism, climate change and job losses.   But maybe that's just the 13-year old talking.  I hope you enjoy these photos as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Caddy Eldorado

Lincoln Continental

'56 T-Bird

Edsel

Big ole Lincoln

That Edsel grille

Olds Rocket 88

Cadillac signature taillights

Just Lovely

An Eventful Week

I hope this blog serves a number of purposes.  It is intended to be a vehicle for friends (and particularly those we left in Virginia) to keep track of what Trudi and I have been up to since our move three months ago.  It is also a convenient way to record in digital form, with some photos,  our new lives, a kind of private journaling made public.  And, it forces me to put words down on “paper” to describe occasional insights that otherwise would probably never see the light of day.  I blush to admit that I am probably the most avid reader of my own blog.  Thank you, dear reader, for whatever attention you give to these irregular postings.

In truth, it is sometimes a challenge in retirement to not slip into neutral, and disengage entirely from the outside world.  For me,  much of what transpires without the instigations of the workplace has to be self-generated.  This is even more the case since we moved to Massachusetts and separated ourselves from the groups and activities that we cultivated in Arlington over the decades.

However, looking back over the last week of North Shore retirement, I’d have to say that the week has been an eventful one.  

It started out at about 4am on Tuesday morning with a torrential predawn downpour accompanied by lightning and hail that rattled the windows till I thought they were sure to shatter.  With sunrise, came the realization that our neighborhood was pretty much cut off from the rest of town by flooded streets and backed up sewers.  The official count was close to 6 inches of rain in two hours, with Swampscott the epicenter of the storm.  Our house was just elevated enough to keep our basement from flooding, but most of the neighbors downhill from us were inundated.   It was the kind of storm about which old timers say “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it”.

Wednesday evening Trudi and I attended the first rehearsal of a Marblehead community choir called the Old North Festival Chorus.  The first rehearsal of this non-auditioned chorus of about 60 or so voices under an energetic director brimmed with promise.  It seems like it might be just what we have been searching for in terms of a local, high quality musical experience to participate in.  The upcoming Christmas concert will feature the Rutter Gloria and Pinkham Christmas Cantata as well as other interesting music.

Thursday we went to the Topsfield Fair, about a half hour north of Swampscott.  It is the oldest agricultural fair in the US, dating from 1818.  It was really large, but we agreed that we like the Union and Common Ground fairs in Maine better.  There was something a bit forlorn and low energy about the agricultural exhibits, with more focus on stage performances of second string country singers and amusement rides.  There was a nice collection of quilts and plenty of bunnies, but after a couple of hours and a modest turkey dinner and tasty apple crisp for lunch we were ready to go.

The week also marked  Trudi’s procurement of an iPhone.  She has wanted a smart phone for a long time to replace the ancient cell phone she has had.  It turns out Trudi takes to technology a lot more readily than I do.  She has been using an itouch and an ipad as well, is a big fan of Apple products and was saddened by the passing of Steve Jobs on Thursday.  

We spent Saturday morning on a Audubon Society-sponsored canoe trip on a small stretch of the Ipswich River.  The river was still running very high because of the rains earlier in the week and it felt more like we were paddling through a Louisiana bayou than a New England river.  The fall colors reflected on the water and Trudi’s steady paddling in the bow made it a most pleasant experience.  

Following the canoeing, we visited the site of Trudi’s maternal grandparents’ graves, located in an pretty historic cemetery on the banks of the river in Ipswich.  Trudi is named after this grandmother, Gertrude, known as GG.  

Saturday was also the first of three days of record setting heat, over 80 degrees for the three-day weekend.  The town beaches were crowded with folks taking in this final gift of warmth before the dreaded winter storms arrive.  I swam both Sunday and Monday in the ocean with water temperature a bracing 62 degrees or thereabouts --  just above the point where my hands and feet become numb.  Trudi  joined me on Monday and it was hard to get her out of the water.

 Wrapping up the week, we had dinner at Elsa and Justin’s home and watched in amazement as Adella took her first steps.  Parents and grandparents were jumping up and down with excitement, Adella took things much more calmly.  None of us thought to make an iphone video of this landmark moment, but being there to witness it once again reinforces for me the wisdom of moving up north.

Whose Woods These Are

Even after 30 years+,  the red clay soils of VA never were truly in my bones.  This lack of connection to the environment around me was a non-trivial part of what motivated me to move back North.  Last weekend I took a couple of hours to wander through Ravenswood, a Trustees of Reservations site on the North Shore.  This park is a terrific 600 acres of woods heavy on evergreen species, ponds, boulders, brilliant blue sky, and a lovely view of the water off Gloucester harbor.    This topography, this habitat does feel like home to me.  Is it just my imagination?  And if it is, does that matter?  I hope you enjoy these images of my walk.

Inviting, no?

Indian Pipe

The Hermit of Gloucester

Glacial erratics

Vernal pool

Ferns galore