I played basketball this morning and then went to an event uptown. I didn’t see the news. Fifty people dead. Fifty. My God. What is wrong with us?
Archive for Blog
Basketball at Bouchercon
The traditional — now almost classic! — Bouchercon basketball game will be Saturday, Sept. 17 at 1:00. If you want to play, let me know and the programmers will try to keep you off a panel at that time. NO PROMISES, but they’ll try.
Trump and Pocahontas
Can I just say how much it bothers me that Donald Trump tried to belittle Elizabeth Warren by calling her Pocahontas? I’ve seen comments responding that Trump missed the mark because Pocahontas was an incredible woman, and others saying Warren tried to claim Cherokee heritage she can’t prove so she deserves it. I don’t care about either of those things. What I care about is, he’s using “Pocahontas” the same way he uses “Goofy” and “Crooked” — as an insult. One of the few Native Americans most people have heard of, and just attaching her name to someone is an insult? Shame on you, Donald Trump.
TBT: Me in my architect days
On the jobsite for the Women’s Rights National Historical Park, Seneca Falls, NY. Late 1980’s. I was Project Manager, and for awhile was going up there (halfway between Rochester and Syracuse) about twice a month. Loved this job.
I Love New York
Got to the corner at the highway this morning, waited for the light to change. When it did each of the three cars that rolled up to the crosswalk was a black Mercedes, one SUV flanked by two sedans. What jumped into my mind was this.
I love New York.
Ironbound Expedition
Explored Newark’s Ironbound neighborhood (so called because it’s enclosed on all sides by railroad tracks) on Saturday. Ate excellent Portuguese lunch, coffee, pastry; and first-class small-batch ice cream. Roses everywhere, new park down by the river, a multitude of churches. Rain, but not until we were done and headed back to the train. Excellent expedition!
Expeditionary force:
Ironbound history mural detail:
Front yard shrine:
1961 chimney:
RIP, Muhammad Ali
I’ve always been a jock. That part of my identity could have been at odds with the part that’s a political activist; but Muhammad Ali showed us we could — indeed, had to — be both. I’m not a big boxing fan, but I’m an Ali fan. RIP.
Twenty-second Saturday, five days late
Slap-footed jogger,
Dogs panting, leashes clinking,
Robins twittering.
Ripples on river
Part around glass-surfaced pool
Just past piling field.
Patrol boat zips by.
Much later, wake’s waves roll in.
Water slides up wall.
Bella the Cat
Too much laundry in the laundry basket, not enough cat room. Bella took care of that.
Twentieth Saturday, eight days late
Purple-hulled tugboat —
White wheelhouse, white frothy wake —
Rides on pale river.
Bagpipes, drums on pier,
Robins, chickadees, in trees,
Drowning out traffic.
Sailboats inching north.
Hard-nosed ferry plowing south.
Cormorant fishing.
