High Bridge Smokestack
Actually, I was exactly opposite, across the river. The power plant blocked my view, but I didn't get the cloud of dust.
Actually, I was exactly opposite, across the river. The power plant blocked my view, but I didn't get the cloud of dust.
"Can I take your picture?," I asked. "Where will it end up?" "Don't know." Beautiful trees near Minnehaha Falls that we passed through on our Saturday bike ride. The artist and the easel where just added bonus.
And Madeline took this picture of Dorothea and I reading the Sunday paper on the front porch. She thought we were cute.
This weekend was the graduation of Madeline's Coming of Age class at the Unitarians. The 25 ninth graders last night each had to read essays in front of the congregation. Today, there was a bit more of a celebration.
And, while Madeline and her mentor Amy were getting ready for today's service, Dorothea and Liam and I drove to visit Grandma Sally. Liam is going to be 12; she, 94.
Jack Lemmon, not in a cubicle, but a "bullpen." Phone (dial), typewriter (electric), Rolodex, day planner. How little things have changed in fifty years. The lobby, the elevators, all look the same. Just not an elevator operator anymore. The switchboard. The references--to IBM, to punchcards, to the Sound of Music, to Marilyn Monroe. Looks as modern and the newsroom in All the President's Men. (Dustin is using a manual typewriter.)
Camila from Brazil joins us.