Thursday, February 26, 2009
As children, my brother and sister and I often were assured by my father (a master of deadpan delivery) that a mechanical chicken lived in the attic. The mechanical chicken was the explanation for any unusual noises we heard. It was the reason we could not play in the attic. Can't disturb the mechanical chicken.
(Oddly enough, there was no prohibition on our playing in the basement or the garage, both of which were filled with dangerous tools and household chemicals. Hm.)
Of course, we knew he was kidding. At least, we were pretty sure. Regardless, it was enough to keep me out of the attic for next forty-odd years.
But finally, a couple of months ago we decided to have the attic insulated, get some flooring put in, and install a nice sturdy pull-down ladder. It's still an unfinished space, but now we can store all kinds of stuff in it we can't bear to part with, but don't want underfoot. On top of that, we're setting the thermostate four degrees lower at night, and we're still warm.
On the downside, it was confirmed that no, there is not now, and probably never was, a mechanical chicken.
However, there were a couple of interesting things I never knew were there, sitting patiently in the dark for half a century or more. First, this 18" by 39" pastel painting, here taken out of its ornate (and utterly filthy) gilt frame:
It's in great shape for something that was done on cardboard. Signed "Phillips." A family member? A friend? The visible pencil lines on the ice suggest an amateur effort. Sadly, we'll likely never know who the artist was, as anyone who might be able to tell us is gone.
Then, there was this perfectly lovely kerosene lamp, which is back on the main floor of the house now. (Well, on a table, not on the floor as you see here.)
I imagine it might have been used regularly long ago, when my grandparents first moved into this house around 1924. Electrical outlets were fewer and much farther between than today's code requires.
And now, the attic once again holds old furniture and stuff for others to find...but no chickens.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Remember, it's Jamaica, Queens, at 8:30 on a dark January night.
The child is no more than 5, if that.
The woman says to her child, "I told you to stay in the car!"
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
"Sure," I tell her, pointing waaay across the room, "…there should be a couple on those display tables over there, in front of the elevators."
"Oh, okay," she said, and looked in that direction to the display, which was some forty feet away, past pillars and shelving and desks and kiosks.
She turned back to me, nodded at the baby in the stroller and said,“I’m just gonna leave him here.”
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The white ibis preferred the inland waterways, nearer the hotels. This photo was taken by Ken during a morning run around the commercial district:Another highlight of the trip (at least as far as I was concerned) was this - a mall wall! I'd scrambled over a small share of the Shawangunks, albeit in a most casual manner, sans equipment, in my college days, but since then I've always wanted to essay one of these faux rock walls.
Here was my chance to do it! Here was my chance to climb *almost* to the top, turn around, and shout out to those below, "Does this harness make my butt look fat?!"
How could I resist?I can't understand why nobody else wanted to try. Oh well. (Photo by DH)
The church named after me was still in business:The bougainvilla was in bloom:
And we saw signspinners on the drive from Cooper City to West Palm Beach.
On the way home, we noticed the Southwest Airlines Gate at Palm Beach International Airport had gone all out for Valentine's Day:
Friends and family: well and happy. Who could ask for more?