Parade

After the Zendo yesterday morning I went to watch the Pride Parade with my friend Bill. I’m ambivalent about the parade, with all its outrageous costumes, hypersexuality and glut of marchers. (It’s WAY too long.) But on the other hand, it’s fun to watch for a while, and it is an important expression of community.

So, anyway, we watched long enough to see Rue McClanahan stumping for Obama, and newlywed George Takei (Mr. Sulu from “Star Trek”) riding atop a convertible with his partner. Then the skies opened up and it poured rain -- complete with thunder and lightning reminiscent of Florida. I ducked into Banana Republic, but the storm passed quickly and the parade never really stopped, from what I could tell.

(Photo: Street art in Dumbo, Brooklyn, June 2008)

Scrapbook

About five years ago, after my Uncle Rudolph died, we got a call from the realtor selling his family home in Avon Park, Fla. Seems several boxes of stuff had been left in the house, including some family photos and documents. Did we want them?

Uncle Rudolph was my great uncle, my grandmother's brother. The house being sold was the one where both of them grew up. Certainly we wanted this stuff. At the next opportunity, my mother and I drove down to Avon Park and retrieved it.

Included in the boxes was this scrapbook, which my Aunt Laurita -- who died in the mid-1990s -- compiled of a trip she and Uncle Rudolph took to Europe in 1968. That was back when flying was stylish and traveling was more exotic than it is today. They did the grand tour: London, Paris, Amsterdam, West Germany, Austria, Rome, Madrid and Lisbon.


Aunt Laurita was something of a journalist -- she wrote a newspaper column in college and vivid letters all her life. The scrapbook reflects that. It's not just a collage of mementos, but also a collection of handwritten notes about what they saw, from people in their hotels to landmarks and facts about each country.

I love this scrapbook. I love all the '60s-style writing on hotel stationery and napkins, and the photos of my great aunt and uncle. I love the notes she took about getting lost in London -- and lost again in Paris. She was funny, my Aunt Laurita.

I put a few pages of the scrapook on Flickr. To see each photo, click on the thumbnail, and scroll your mouse over the page for notes. To see an even bigger version, click the "all sizes" tab above each picture. I wish I'd been able to photograph every page, but there's just too much!

Flow

I don't pretend to know a lot about Chinese medicine and philosophy, but I know the concept of flow is vitally important. Normally, I'm pretty good about maintaining a sense of flow in my life, even subconsciously -- I don't let things accumulate and stagnate, whether paperwork, or food in the fridge, or tasks and errands. I get things done. I keep things moving.

I rotate my clothes, so that none get worn to excess and none get ignored. I read one book at a time. I work my way through magazines chronologically, reading each issue in turn. I eat all the groceries I buy. I post my pictures to Flickr in the order I take them. Flow permeates my habits, and I think that contributes to a sense of stability and soundness.

My Zen teacher even gave me the Dharma name Junryu, which means "Flow with the river." I'd like to think she appreciated an innate sense of flow in me, but I think it's more likely she was reminding me not to get hung up on things.

Lately, parts of my life have not felt like they're flowing. Some things have felt stuck. Pleasures become painful when they don't move and develop; stagnation sets in. I am devoting this weekend to restoring flow, big and small, both personally and professionally. Never mind all the details, but trust me that it's needed and all is well.

(Photo: Patio in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, June 2008)

Party

This is GLBT Pride Week in New York, leading up to the big Pride Parade on Sunday. I don’t march in the parade, but I usually try to attend -- it’s a good place to meet up with friends, even though all the floats and marchers get a bit tedious. (These days, it’s all very corporate.)

Anyway, last night we had a party for our GLBT & Allies group at work. It was held on the 30th floor of a building overlooking Madison Square Park, and the views were terrific. We could clearly see the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building, not to mention the Flatiron right next door.

I had a lot of fun -- it’s interesting how socializing with people from work is totally different from working with them! I also got to hang out with a bunch of people I often don’t see during the course of a normal workday.

But it’s funny -- this building had balconies, where I stood for quite a while, talking and admiring the view. Then, after I got home and went to bed, I had scary half-asleep visions of myself and/or others falling from the balconies. Yikes! (I think it must have something to do with the current dire economic situation at work, and our periodic layoffs. Where’s my dream analyst when I need one?)

(Photo: Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, June 2008)

Quiet Time

Still not much to report. Just work and my normal routines, for the most part. I've been trying to focus on finishing "Jane Eyre," which I had to put down for a while -- I'm finally getting toward the end. I'm enjoying it, but I just haven't made the time to sit down and read until now.

I saw "Get Smart" the other day. I always liked the 60s sitcom, but the movie offers further proof that a silly TV show doesn't always offer adequate foundation for a two-hour movie. Steve Carrell, though a good actor and comic, gives Maxwell Smart a bit too much gravitas and style for my taste.

(Photo: Graffiti in SoHo, June 2008)

Breathe

I seem to be taking a little blog break. It's not even intentional -- I just suddenly feel like I've run out of things to say. When I come up with something, I'll let you know!

(Photo: Lexington Avenue, June 2008)

Sea Creature

Last night, as I was walking home on Third Avenue after dinner with a friend, I found a starfish lying on the sidewalk.

I kid you not. A real, actual starfish. It wasn’t a living starfish, mind you -- it had been bleached and dried and otherwise rendered non-stinky. But a starfish nonetheless. I picked it up and looked around quizzically, thinking I might be on Candid Camera, or whatever the modern equivalent is. But no one paid me any attention.

So I brought the starfish home and put it on a shelf with some other seashells.

Strange things wash up on the sidewalks of New York from time to time.

Unrelated: If you’re a Suzanne Vega fan, you’ll want to read this.

(Photo: E. 29th Street, May 2008)