New camera, new yard, more photos

So, I’ve gotten a new camera and a new garden with things to take pictures of. I figure I should play around and experiment. You, lucky reader, get to “enjoy” my attempts. This is attempt one.

Texans and heat

[ed note: This was originally written on Sunday, but through technical error, did not appear until today]

On the train ride back from teaching out in West Newton, I had these two guys sit behind me in full Red Sox gear. This in and of itself is in no way interesting or unusual. What made it unusual was the fact that they seemed to know nothing at all about Boston. They asked each other if “This here subway runs 24/7″. I thought this was really weird–they then also talked to the conductor to figure out how to get to the airport. There just was something about their accent that compelled me to turn around and tell them my best way to Logan(SIlver Line). I asked them where they were from–if you’re clever enough to read the title, you’ll know their answer–and they replied “Texas”.

I asked where specifically, and they said, “A small town North of San Antonio. Persisting, they said New Braunfels. All the way in Boston, and I find someone from New Braunfels. I felt a certain Texan solidarity as I pointed them to the North End for good Italian food. Maybe it’s just my joy in being a guide in a foreign land for Texans.

Oh, and they brought the heat with them. Heat index of 107 on Tuesday. Guess which day I’m moving into my new place?

As if I needed more reason to long for Hill Country rains

Check out where the number one place to visit this summer is, according to the New York Times.

The comparisons to Tuscany, however, might be a bit much. I don’t recall it being 115 in Tuscany, now do I remember loud cicadas.

The only thing left

I don’t have a record of my father’s voice save one. It’s not even a message for me. It’s a piece of triviality, an accident. A month before his death the phone rang in the empty house with him in it. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe he only thought it did. He reached for the phone to try to answer it and inadvertently dialed my number. It rang enough to leave a message–he started asking for a mysterious “Ms Howtch”. The only record of my father’s voice doesn’t even address me.

He means to hang up after trying to raise his caller, giving up with a plaintive, “well…”. But he doesn’t. The recording continues, marking for eternity what Brit Hume had to say about Obama and Hillary. It records his shifts in movement, his behavior when no one was around. The last noise I have of him is a yawn. “Oh my”. I get a glimpse into what his life was like. It only makes me wonder what he was thinking.

Does this count as #3?

Maybe this is supposed to be good thing number three–I don’t know that it’s on the same level as the first two, but it is good nonetheless.

If good things come in threes, I’m still waiting for the third.

I’m happy to report some good news here–as opposed to those last two, which were just a might morbid. First, I’m moving! No more of this couch living for me. My advisor from Undergrad needed someone to sublet his 1BR apartment (above his) for the summer to act as a sort of caretaker. So, fully furnished room? Oh yeah. And it couldn’t have come at a better time, since the futon I’m currently sleeping on seems to be increasingly bent under my weight. Every night, the middle third of the cushion disappears into the fold of the bed. Trust me, it’s as weird as it sounds.

Second News: I will still be a broke graduate student going back to St Andrews, but I will no longer be a broke college student with crippling debt. Rotary has come through and said that the funds that were to be applied to my 2007-2008 year are available for my use 2008-2009. Awesome. I had been told that the funds had been disbursed back to the district in Texas because I had interrupted my studies and therefore, there was no way I could use them. People, it’s called extreme circumstances.

I wrote out–sometimes in excruciating detail–just exactly why I had to take the year off. I guess I wrote to enough people and was sufficiently persistent (read: annoying) enough that I ended up getting permission to use the money. So, that’s a good chunk that will pay for….half my tuition? God the UK is expensive.

So now I’m waiting for # 3. Or is it only bad things that come in threes?

Valley forge

Returned from burying my father. This funeral service was harder than the first one (in Texas). Part of it was the complete finality of it–this is where he was going to be for good. Forever. Previously, I always had this service in Valley Forge to look forward to. Well, look forward is the wrong phrasing. I had it to fall back on. The plot of land is beautiful. He’s in a mausoleum where he has the bottom right plot. Seemed fitting, and will make placing flowers, flags, etc. easy. He’s within sight of the World of Scouting Museum, which is fitting, since he took such an interest in my life in the Boy Scouts.

The chapel itself, (Washington Memorial Chapel), is really stunning. It’s in some ways quite fitting that his funeral take place there, since he was married there some 60 years ago to his first wife. Now his second buries him there.

There was honor guard from the Army. Bugler played taps (on a real horn). They folded the flag and presented it to my mom, “On behalf of a grateful nation for faithful and steadfast service.” That was kind of hard to hear and stomach. And, of course, the weather was not agreeing with us. I walked outside carrying the urn and the weather was cloudy and wet (like Scotland). By the time the flag was in my mom’s arms, it was pouring and everyone was soaked.

I was blessed to have many friends come from all over (Chicago, Boston, NY) and family. It was the first time my 4 siblings and I have ever been in the same room. Surprisingly, went off without much of a hitch and without any drama. Minor miracle.

I’m happy that I discharged my duty as a son. That I brought him back to Pennsylvania and to Valley Forge as he wanted. I’m happy that I eulogized him–I hope it even approached what he deserved. It was much harder to deliver the speech here–owing again to the finality. The organ playing Amazing Grace at the end of the service was very difficult. Whereas I had to be the pillar of strength in Texas, I no longer had that burden in Pennsylvania, so I also lacked an urgent need to keep everything together.

It’s a place I’ll be happy to visit and take my kids to someday, and that’s what I wanted.

Iron range

Back from MN. Very strange weekend. Took the Cloquet bypass. Very desolate land, and yet, it reminded me much of Texas. Trees maybe a little different. Plenty of farmland out there. Gray place. Saw the huge mine outside Hibbing. Looked like Mordor, everything grey, brown, black. Historic Hibbing was only foundations and pictures of what was. That and the rainy cold weather made it a brief stay. Something very odd about a town that up and moved entirely.

Was a pallbearer. Carried my friend in the last. Not sure that I deserved this honor, and this doubt was a source of self-conflict for the weekend. I imagine it will continue to be.  Be there? Sure. Position of honor? Not so sure.

Small town life might suit me well. People pulled together–there was a church meal with homemade food in the basement after the service. Never before has cheese, butter, cream, and meat played such a large role in my diet.

Was able to provide support for my friends. This was my main role and my purpose.

I’m happy I went. Less so that I agreed to be a pallbearer. I hope to be able to write his widow something that she finds worthwhile in a letter. Something that maybe is good. I have the envelope all ready. Just need the letter.

Wegmans is not impressive

For many months (possibly years) I’ve been told of the incredible stores in and around Philadelphia called Wegmans, which was apparently the pinnacle of grocery shopping. Even my mother came from Austin and dared to say that Wegmans was better than Central Market or the flagship Whole Foods at 6th and Lamar.

How could she be any more incorrect? The produce was mediocre, especially for the price. The Prices were pretty ridiculous. The spices were ungodly expensive. A cannister of cardamom seeds was over $10. $10! Yikes.

Sure, there was a good selection. And I will give them credit for a fine tea corner. The salmon was very pretty (but no more so than CM or Whole Foods). There was a good selection of prepared foods, but again, nothing that blew me away when compared to the two Austin chains.

Conclusion: Meh.

Night people make the best houseguests

It seems as though everyone and their mothers wants to visit Boston in the springtime. This doesn’t bother me one bit, since I really enjoy playing tour guide around places I live. But, it has made me realize that clearly night (bordering on nocturnal) house guest are ideal. (Not to discourage morning people from visiting nor to mock those that have recently departed).