Gallimaufry

The view above frames a portion of Richmond's downtown district as seen from East Grace Street on Church Hill. Church Hill is the original site of the town of Richmond, established there by William Byrd II in the 1730's since it is the highest point overlooking the James River. Just off-camera to the left is the Richmond Hill Retreat Center, which was still the Monte Maria Convent when I moved to Richmond in the late 1970's. A Catholic friend told me back then that this was a cloistered order of nuns, and that only one nun was allowed contact with the world outside the tall brick walls that surrounded the property. It seemed so mysterious. Today, this is an ecumenical retreat, and the gates are open.

I've been staying busy lately, and haven't made time for blogging. My apologies for that; I've been visiting new AA meetings in addition to my regular rounds, and I am seeking a new sponsor. I know that I need continuing guidance on my journey to emotional sobriety. I miss my old sponsor, but he is gone, and it is time to move forward. I trust my Creator to provide the right mentor for me. For now, I feel the lack of a sponsor, which is a humbling reminder that I'm not better off trying to figure things out by myself. I keep referring to the sign I have at my desk: Don't believe everything you think. Whatever I think is a good idea usually begs a second glance.

One recent Sunday, Jeffrey & I drove down to Petersburg to attend an out of town meeting. It was a bright & balmy day, and we enjoyed the morning meeting at the Tri-Cities Clubhouse in Old Town Petersburg. We got a nice welcome from the regulars at the meeting. Below, an ancient streetcar that sits near the clubhouse is pictured, followed by the historic South Side Depot building. The depot is on the south bank of the Appomattox River, an area of bustling commerce in prior days, and you can see evidence of a long-gone neighboring building on the side of the depot. The adjacent structure was probably a tobacco shed. Note how the depot's windows were constructed based on the now-missing neighbor.



On our way back to Richmond, Jeffrey & I stopped at the Bellwood Flea Market, which now occupies the parking lot of the defunct Bellwood Drive-In movie theater. If you are looking for power tools of dubious provenance, fruit or vegetables from English-as-a-Second-Language vendors, or hand-tooled leather belts with buckles the size of serving platters, then your search has ended. Sadly, we both walked away empty-handed, but the finely-made doll baby below did tempt me. She reminds me so much of the granny dolls that my Great-Aunt Freda crapfted in an obsessive-compulsive manner out of dishwashing detergent bottles in the 1960's.


There's no real purpose for this post, other than to say hello, tell you what I've been doing, and to clean out the memory card on my camera. You'll be treated to a hodgepodge of pictures in no coherent order. So here we go...

When I visited Sheldon one afternoon, I discovered that it was Cereal Box Day for his cat, Sassy. What cat doesn't love a box or paper bag? Sassy was in high cotton with two cereal boxes to play with. Even with a large Cheerios box, Sassy cannot wedge her fat ass into it, but she does the best she can with her front half. The expression on her face says pure contentment. I think Sassy is autistic.




Speaking of cats, in the mixed-use neighborhood known as Scott's Addition behind my office building, there are several breakfast & lunch diners. I go to the Moore Street Cafe for breakfast fairly often, and beside the restaurant there is an office building with a resident cat as part of the staff. He is usually in the window, waiting for his co-workers to arrive. I don't know his name, but he wears a Superman pendant from his collar. I think he's deaf, so instead of saying hello, it's best to stick your fingers through the mail slot so he can rub up against them.


Sue's Country Kitchen is one of the neighborhood canteens serving breakfast and lunch. They make really good homemade soups. The place only seats 25 patrons, and it's run by a jolly fellow named Ike.


My friend Morris and I share an interest in local history, and we have been taking car rides throughout the city, exploring old neighborhoods, and being all-around looky-lous. Someone has to keep an eye on this city. We also toured the State Capitol recently, so maybe I'll post pictures from that soon.

Unlike me, Morris grew up in Richmond, and has been a wonderful source of local arcana. We will be driving by the most ramshackle looking church in a depressed neighborhood, and Morris will say "That church was built in 1859 and was the original First Mount Zion Pentecostal Holiness Church, before it moved to its present location at 321 Magnolia Street on May 16, 1947."

The next picture is of statuary on Franklin Military Academy, originally the East End Junior High School, on the eastern edge of Church Hill. The sun was setting, and the light striking the old school was beautifully roseate.

Several blocks away, we happened upon the splendidly renovated Robinson Theater, which operates as a community center after suffering through various incarnations including pool hall and disco. It was built in 1937, and named after Richmond's very own tap dancing Bill Robinson - who is more widely known as Mister Bojangles. We were amazed to stumble upon the theater, because it's in a very bedraggled section of Church Hill. It was like finding a pearl in a pig sty.




When looking at the Robinson Theater, a quick pivot of the camera lens shows Night & Day Chicken. This is a truer picture of what this neighborhood looks like today. After years of urban blight, Church Hill is a neighborhood in transition. In the last half of the previous century, this historic neighborhood housed the economically and socially disadvantaged. Now it shows signs of careful, respectful restoration. Meanwhile, corner stores selling beer & wine and businesses like Night & Day Chicken still dot the hill.


Just a few blocks south of Night & Day Chicken, a storefront window offers a message of goodwill.
Peace on earth, my friends.

Secret Squirrel

I hope everyone has had a splendid weekend. I did. I was busy both days, and only had time for one short nap. Weekend naps are something I look forward to during the work week. I'm sleepy tonight. I went boating with Sadie this afternoon, and the sun zapped me. Yawn!

Before I head upstairs to bed, I thought I'd share a few photos with you. By now, everyone has probably seen the ground squirrel that photobombed a couple's vacation picture (below). As it turns out, he's been around for awhile. Obviously, he's not camera-shy, but I was surprised to learn that he's been a thread in our nation's fabric since our early days, and still wields power and influence in modern times. He has also visited a couple of my good friends recently. This guy seems to be everywhere!



Here's our furry pal acting as a protocol advisor to President Obama & Michelle on their recent goodwill trip to the Old World. This venture might have been a disaster without his counsel.



Jimi Hendrix would never have played The Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock if not for the urging of this wise marmot.



He was part of the first lunar landing, although some naysayers still claim it was all a ruse. He knows better. He was there.



Passionately devoted to the United States of America when we were still just thirteen ragtag, bickering colonies, few Americans today know that we would never have united as one nation if not for the wise vision he shared with our country's forefathers.



Before you jump to any conclusions, this was not a political endorsement. Our friend was simply foraging for nuts, and he found a really big one.



My friends Suzanne & Brett in Amsterdam were thrilled that he found time to drop in when he was in Europe. They are opening a new shop, La Naranja, in the Kinkerbuurt section of the city. Suzanne told me that he is a whiz at product marketing ideas, and he didn't charge them a thing. They just had to keep their cats outside during the consultation.



My pal Scott will be launching a new art show of his works in September, and confided to me that this little ground squirrel has a keen eye for the best picture placement on the walls of the Nau-Haus Contemporary Gallery in Houston.

The House That Love (almost) Built

At some point in most intimate relationships, a time is reached when one asks oneself "How can I best express my love? What can I say or do that will truly demonstrate my undying ardor?"

Of course, the simplest way to let someone know that you love them is to look them in the eye each day and say "I love you," and treat them sweetly. As civilized people, however, we like to make things as complex and convoluted as possible, so we bypass the direct route and seek flashier solutions, usually in the form of gifts or services. Here are a few examples I've heard of.

♥ fresh flowers (delivered; not yanked out of the yard)
♥ a luxury day at a spa
♥ a mood ring (I'm sorry to say that my dad had this idea for my mom)
♥ a night on the town, including dinner & a show
♥ a private island with a 120+ room Rhineland-style castle

I know what you're thinking. The mood ring seems excessive. I'm not sure if my mom ever got over it. I found it in a jewelry box after she died.

Last month, while I was cavorting around the Thousand Islands, Sadie took us to Boldt Castle. Boldt Castle is perched on Heart Island, and was a built as a testament of George Boldt's love for his wife, Louise. George was a Prussian-born self-made millionaire. He & Louise had summered in the Thousand Islands region, and Louise was very much taken with the area.

Time wasn't on George's side, however, and in the fourth year of the castle's construction, Louise keeled over from heart failure. Only one month shy of her 42nd birthday, with the world at her feet and a castle in the making, and poor Louise takes the dirt nap. George telegraphed the island and ordered all work stopped. It is said that he never set foot on Heart Island again. Statuary & fountains brought over from Europe remained in their crates on the island's dock, which rotted, dumping the collection into the river for many years. For anyone interested, a more reverent account of all these doings can be found here.

Today, you can visit the unfinished castle. Sadie took us there in her boat, but (if you can't find Sadie) there are tour boats that you can take from the US or Canada.


Once through the ticket office at the dock, you are pretty much free to roam the island, castle, and other buildings as long as you like. We headed straight for the house, wandered through the first floor, and then went to the basement. There's an unfinished indoor pool in the basement, and a passageway that led us to the edge of the island near the power house. From there, we trudged back up to the house and explored the upper floors.

Below you will see Sherry, Robespierre, and Sadie posing in front of Boldt Castle.


The next photo shows Alster Tower, which is also known as the children's playhouse. It seemed odd to me that you'd build a children's playhouse at the edge of a river, far from the main house, but what do I know about child care? In case the river didn't tempt the children, there was a Roman pool immediately beside the playhouse. Alster Tower's plans featured a billiard room, bowling alley, library, as well as a cafe, grill, and kitchen. It also had bedrooms, and this is where George & his family stayed while the castle was under construction.


Next we see a reception room on the first floor of the castle. The property sat vacant for over seventy years, and was tormented by harsh winters and vandals. In 1977, the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority purchased the place for one dollar, and has spent millions on upkeep and renovations. The interesting thing about the house is that, while the first floor has been spendidly finished, the upper floors become increasingly crude as you climb.


The impressive domed skylight in the main hall...


Sadie in an unfinished bedroom. The house had way too many bedrooms. Really, how many overnight guests do you want all at once, no matter how many rooms you have for them? But, George owned the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia, and he was proprietor of the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, so I guess he thought that houses should have thirty bedrooms and bathrooms.


The fourth floor was quite bare and incomplete. I loved the hints of grandeur unfulfilled.


Next, we have the passageway that led from the basement to the outer edge of the island. This would have been used by servants to convey goods from the docks to the kitchens & storage rooms below stairs.


Here's the cute little power house, which held generators to supply the island's electrical needs.


The heart motif was everywhere. Flowerbeds, stone masonary carvings, plaster fretwork on the ceilings...George Boldt even had engineers reshape the island to resemble a heart. It's astounding what people, unencumbered by income taxes, could do with cheap labor. Just look at the Egyptian pyramids.


This gazebo is a popular spot for weddings nowadays.


Here's a view from Heart Island of a little lighthouse in the St. Lawrence River. The sailboat obligingly came along at the right moment. And that concludes our tour of Boldt Castle, the uncompleted monument to love. When you think about it, the mood ring makes far more sense.

Double Feature

Do you ever have one of those days where you think it's another day of the week? On Tuesday I thought it was Thursday. Wednesday I tried to make it be Thursday, also, and it wouldn't. I was in a local grocery store, saw that they had eggs on their daily special for Thursday, and had picked up two dozen before I realized I was a day early for the bargain price. Today I keep thinking it's Friday.

No surprise, then, that I started to name this post Double Feature Friday, but came to my senses before I did so. Our first feature today shows recently discovered archival footage of my pal in Texas, Scott, getting dressed when he was a youngster. It seems he's always been fussy about his appearance.



I've been on an old movie kick lately. Through the advancements in media technology, tons of old films are now available, and the list keeps growing. I went on a Val Lewton junket for awhile. Despite the lurid titles that the studio insisted upon (I Walked with a Zombie, Isle of the Dead, and the like), his movies were actually quite well done. I Walked with a Zombie was a Caribbean version of Jane Eyre, except the mysterious wife was a zombie instead of a madwoman. His Curse of the Cat People, despite its lurid title, is more of a psychological study of childhood fantasies than horror film.

Another movie I enjoyed recently was The House on Telegraph Hill, directed by Robert Wise, starring Valentina Cortesa and Richard Basehart. It was a hybrid film which had elements of film noir and the woman-in-peril genres. Valentina Cortesa swaps her identity with that of a dead friend, and we know that nothing good ever comes from that. How many times did we hear this from our mothers when we were kids: "You may play in the neighborhood for one hour, but remember to look both ways before you cross the street and don't swap identities with any of your dead friends." Bette Davis learned that lesson in Dead Ringer when she murdered her wealthy sister & assumed her identity, and then got nabbed for murder anyway because her sister had killed her own husband.

Now that we've had our Intermission, it's time for our next feature film, Backpacker Cat, which was sent to me by Scott, and I've watched it frequently when I need a calm moment. Laetitia & Guillaume, a French couple, began a walking trip in October 2008 from Miami to the tip of South America. In Louisiana, they found a stray kitten in the middle of the road, and Kitty has been with them on their journey ever since.

I just love this clip.

To Sir, With Love

My sponsor passed away this week. He was 61, and was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer several months ago. I'm glad he did not have to suffer too long with his illness. I will miss him.

When I first started on my journey to sobriety, I went to many meetings around town. I listened and learned from others who had managed to free themselves from a life of alcohol. I was amazed that these people had lived soberly each day for years. Hell, I was amazed when I saw a guy pick up a thirty-day chip at my first meeting.

I was uncomfortable trying different meetings, but I did it anyway because it was strongly suggested by people who knew more than I did about life. That's how I found my sponsor. While most folks in town were still in bed, or padding around their homes in robes & slippers, I went to the earliest meeting in town at 6:45. I wasn't being virtuous; I was scared. My alcohol abuse knew no difference between 5a.m. and 5p.m. toward the end of my drinking days.

I liked what the man who would become my sponsor had to say. He spoke quietly, and talked about how he used to be, and what his life was like now. There was never a false note. He didn't seem to be shoveling out a pile of shit to make himself sound good. If he had something to say, he said it; and if he didn't, he listened. He appeared to be calm, serene, and genuinely happy with life. I wanted what he had.

I was thrilled when he agreed to sponsor me, and we started to work right away on the steps to recovery. He helped me get my life back on track. When a situation had me ready to pull my hair out, he would look at me with his calm, blue eyes and say "Bill, why are you letting that mess with your serenity?" or "What part have you played in the situation?" He had a gentle way of turning my pointing finger back at myself.

When he shared his experience, strength, and hope in meetings, people were eager to listen. He was a gentleman, and after he had his brief say, he would always conclude with "I'm glad you are all here this morning. Thanks for letting me share."

Tonight, after I close the office, I will pay my respects to him at a funeral home across town. Tomorrow I will attend a lakeside memorial service in the country. My sadness will ease as time passes, but my gratitude for having this remarkable man in my life will never waver.

A Confederacy of Lunatics

See that critter over there? That's a Luna moth, and it was part of my vacation experience last week. Sadie & I were sitting up late one night, and we heard something fluttering & banging against one of the sliding door screens. When Sadie investigated, she thought it was a bird at first. These are some damned big moths! They have a wingspan of four inches. I had never seen one (except in pictures).

I got all excited, and dashed out another door to see it up close. It was a beautiful bright green, and it must have liked my equally-bright yellow sweatshirt, because it flew right over & landed on me. Sensing a photo-op, no doubt. You can't be that glamorous in your class without knowing it.

I figured that if it bit me, it would just be a memorable part of my vacation experience, but then I found out that this genus of moth lacks mouths. Sadie the scientist wasted no time, and was on her laptop in a flash researching the Luna moth. At this final phase of their development, the Luna moth does not eat. They're just like fashion models! They just carom about at night looking for sex, like young single people. Since they can't eat, they have to act fast. They only live one week once they emerge from their cocoons as adult moths.

Next, I have more photos for you from my Thousand Islands adventure. They won't top the Luna moth, I'm afraid.

Even though I spent fourteen hours driving up there on Friday, I was wide awake at 4a.m. Saturday morning. By 4:30, I gave up on falling back to sleep, so I got up & got halfway dressed, made a pot of coffee, and went down to the dock. Before long, Robespierre joined me, and we walked out to the back yard (the road side of Sadie's property; the front of the house faces the river) to watch the sun rise. That's Robespierre below. We saw a deer emerge from a copse, and wander over to a hay bale for breakfast. It was a serene start to our first full day at Sadie's.


Before long, everyone was up, and we all went into town for a 9a.m. AA meeting. There were about forty people there, and it was a great way to get our day under way. If you're in AA, it's a lot of fun to go to meetings when you're out of town. It's like being in a room full of strangers who are already your friends. The personal stories may be slightly different than mine, but there is a bond in the fellowship of recovery. After the morning meeting, we dropped Sadie off at a marina so she could pick up one of her watercraft. She motored back home on the river, and the rest of us returned by land.

That evening, we took one of Sadie's boats to Grenell Island, where another meeting was held. This one was a campfire meeting at a fellow's summer home. I took the following picture on our way there, and it shows the American span of the Thousand Islands Bridge.


The meeting was held right at the edge of the river, next to the host's boathouse. A big campfire blazed at one end of the circle of people, and ashes kept flying in Sherry's hair. The wind on the boat ride had already flailed her hair mercilessly, so the ashes adhered excellently to her damp locks. There were about thirty people around the circle, and the speaker was the area delegate. A storm blew in at the mid-point, so we all grabbed our chairs and made a dash up to the wraparound porch of the host's Victorian house. After the meeting closed, homemade pie & coffee were served inside, but I stayed outside to snap some pictures.

Below is a view from the house after the storm passed, followed by a picture of Sherry on the porch.



After the campfire meeting, Sherry & I fixed dinner when we returned to Sadie's. Sherry prepared some delectable jumbo shrimp, and we had squash casserole, herbed noodles, and a blueberry-peach cobbler with ice cream.

Sunday, we went back to the town of Alexandria Bay to do some shopping. It's a pleasant little town, with a lot of gift shops targeting the tourists. They even had a leather shop, but - believe me - it was nothing like the Mr. Leatherman shop that Brenda & I found several years ago in Greenwich Village. One day I may write about that little retail establishment, or maybe I'll just say that New York City has something for everyone, and leave it at that.

We saved our sight-seeing for Monday, figuring it wouldn't be as crowded. We took Sadie's boat to the marina at Alexandria Bay, and had breakfast at Chez Paris. It wasn't as fancy as it sounds. Just a small town diner with good breakfast fare. After eating, we walked to the Cornwall Brothers Store, which operates as a local history museum. The picture below shows my compatriots in front of Poor John's ice cream stand on our walk back to Sadie's boat.



Sherry & I posed for a photo as we sped away from town on our way to Boldt Castle. I'll write a separate post about the castle, which sits on its own island across from Alexandria Bay. See the green travel cup in Sherry's lap? This woman cannot go anywhere without at least two beverage cups. She carries five in her car, and they are all filled with something - coffee, diet cola, iced tea, Love Potion #9, hemlock tea. Obviously, Sherry still has a drinking problem, but at least it's not alcohol.


The next pictures are of the homes on the islands that we passed by on our way back to Sadie's. The Thousand Islands region is dotted with approximately 1800 islands of various size. Some are just large enough for a tree and a couple of shrubs. Others have one or several houses on them, and a few, like Wellesley Island, are sizable enough for roads and villages. To qualify for island status, it must be above water 365 days per year, be at least one square foot, and support at least one living tree.


Here's a nice home. No, the building behind the boathouse. The boathouse in the foreground looks nicer than my home, and quite a bit larger. I need to go back up there when I have time to troll for a rich sugar daddy.


This lovely old stone house has a quick escape hatch. If you get into an argument with a housemate, you can take the slide and start swimming for the mainland without waiting for a boat.


I could make do with this little cottage until I find a place of my own.


Who am I kidding? I'd be lucky beyond my wildest dreams if I could afford a place this big.


And soon we were safely home.

THE END
(courtesy of Robespierre)