(Things Are) LOOKING UP IN BURNET WOODS

Dear George,

I’ve always believed that our adult work roles shape our life experiences and consequently the sort of persons we are. Being a librarian is dramatically different from being a bricklayer which is different from being a pro football player. In my own case, my job as a college professor meant that I spent much of my time working with ideas – reading, thinking, talking, writing -- and this abstract, cognitive/verbal engagement spread into my nonwork life as well. As a result, I was pretty internally centered a lot of the time, focusing on the verbal discourse running through my mind, and consequently less attuned to the immediate external environment. Now that I’m retired, this has changed some. Because I spend part of most days taking photographs, I’ve become much more alert to visual surroundings – framing perceptions from different perspectives, attending to color and light patterns, juxtaposing objects. I think I may spend less time in abstract thought, more in direct sensory experience of the world. It reminds me of my sister Vicki’s lessened concern about language development in their kids’ early home schooling and greater priority to sensory activities like making music. It puts one more directly in touch with the world around you. Recently I’ve been trying to photograph images of nature. The subject matter poses lots of challenges. I’ve done various mini-projects – mushrooms, acorns, wildflowers, etc. Then it dawned on me that we rarely look upwards in our everyday contact with the world, and I got interested in the remarkable visual patterning available in the treetops of a barren, December forest. Here are a few samples from our nearby Burnet Woods Park. These were taken on a cloudy day, and hence the stark black-white imagery. It’s a mysterious, almost magical world up there.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Donna D (12-18): this is beautiful and, you're right, mysterious. i can see myself in those trees...reaching up for life, energy and connection on a dreary day. donna

-Phyllis SS 912-17): Dave, Interesting. I've had the same experience since I am no longer sitting in an office listening to patients all day long. I think you'd love a book of photos by the brother of a friend of mine. It's photos of China by N. Kander. Just published and won lots of prizes.

Best, Phyllis

-Jennifer M (12-16): I like these photos. The tangle of branches evokes sadness or confusion. Or maybe it's a Rorschach test and that's what I see. :-)

Ghosts of Music Hall

Auditorium, Cincinnati’s Music Hall

Dear George,

I can’t even guess how often we’ve been to Cincinnati’s Music Hall over the years. Katja’s parents were devotees of classical music, so we’ve usually had subscriptions to symphony and opera performances each season. Given all those years I was shocked to learn that experts in the paranormal regard our Music Hall as one of the best-documented locations for ghosts in the U.S.

The authorities speculate that there are ghosts in Music Hall because of the land’s early history. In 1818 the city purchased a large lot near Elm and 12th Streets, the current Music Hall site, and established “a Commercial Hospital and Lunatic Asylum” for the state of Ohio. When an 1832 cholera outbreak killed 832 people and orphaned many children, the Cincinnati Orphan Asylum was built right next door. When it was later used to isolate people with infectious diseases, it became known as the Pest House. The ground around the building was used as a pauper’s cemetery where the hospital buried suicides, strangers, and homeless people, all of whom were simply bundled up in blankets and stuck in the ground. In the 1870’s Music Hall was built on the original site of the Pest House and Orphan Asylum. Because the resting places of the poor were not marked by tombstones, the new building was simply constructed on top of the graves. When workers dug a new elevator shaft in 1988, 88 pounds of bones were exhumed on the first day, 119 pounds on the second.

Ghosts were reported at the Elm St. site from the very beginning of construction. In 1876 a local newspaper reported that the ghosts hadn’t bothered anyone until the ground was excavated for an elevator and yellow bones had been dug up. “From that hour shadowy people wandered restlessly through the creaking halls by night, hiding in dark corners, stealing behind pillars, and creating crepitating noises under the dim roof.” The account added that, when dogs were brought into the building, they whined to be let out “and followed their masters with every sign of abject terror – eye balls wildly protruding, and ears laid back.”

An actual early photo of some of the Music Hall ghosts

The ghosts still make their presence known today. On President’s Day in 2003 a Music Hall box office worker who was alone at the closed building heard strange noises all day long. He heard music stands in the lobby being knocked over, but when he checked they were still upright. A button signaling that there was a customer at the window was rung several times, but no customers were there and there were no footprints in the newly fallen snow. Later he heard a crystal chandelier in the lobby crashing to the floor and shattering, but he found the chandelier still hanging from the ceiling. And when he walked by the Critics’ Club, he heard “what sounded like a party going on,” except that the door was locked and the lights were out. Patricia Beggs, CEO of the opera, observed recently, “Ghosts? Um, yes. Indeed, there are Music Hall ghosts.” Likewise Erich Kunzel, late conductor for the Pops orchestra, stated some years back, “I’ve met these people. They’re not in the offices, but when you go out into the house they’re there, they’re upstairs. …If you think I’m crazy just come over here sometime at three o’clock in the morning. They’re very friendly.”

I haven’t worried that much about ghosts since my twenties. I still don’t think we’re in any danger. We went to Music Hall last Saturday night, and I kept an eye out, even checking some nooks and crannies where audience members don’t typically go. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and concluded the spirits probably stay hidden while the symphony is going on. But I plan to be on the alert. If we do have any sightings, you’ll be the first to know.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Jennifer M (12-13): I like Kunzel's view that they are there and they are friendly. We often joke that Mrs. Buemiller's ghost lives here with us. I simply asked her, when we first moved in, to do her haunting in front of me so I didn't have to worry that someone had broken into the house. She has obliged and we all stay the house together peacefully. :-)

-Donna D (12-13): we should break in some morning around 3:00! donna

-JML (12-12): People in New Orleans have long believed that the Saints miserable first 43 years of existence was due to the fact that the superdome was built on an Indian burial ground and the spirits were angry. And after their success post-Katrina, it's widely believed that the flood waters washed away the sins of the past. I think you can come up with a story to explain whatever reality comes along.

-Linda C (12-12): the music hall looks wonderful and ghost free, even tho not as interesting, we have our own lady in blue that comes to a club in montara, eveyone knows about it, apparently she was killed there and then made to look like a suicide i don't believe in ghosts

-Phyllis SS (12-12): Dave, How very interesting - especially about the asylum and the orphanange and just building over the top of the graves.

Phyllis

Puzzled About the Meaning of Life?: No Problemmo

Dear George,

When I went to college, my classmates and I spent an extraordinary amount of time discussing “the meaning of life”. Just what the issue was, I’m not entirely clear, but we were confident that it was the most important question of all. As18-year-olds breaking free, we rejected religion as offering viable answers, and we tried to extract clues from our various studies – philosophy, literature, psychology, even physics. But all to no avail. I graduated five years later, hopefully more knowledgeable, but, if anything, I was further from grasping the meaning of life than I’d been at the beginning.

Then something strange happened. I went to graduate school, and the question of the meaning of life vanished from my mind. For one thing, I was pretty busy. For another, my life now had lots of meaning of sorts – struggling to keep up with daily demands, passing unfair doctoral exams, doing a painful dissertation project, trying to fashion a new identity, etc. There wasn’t much occasion to ponder the metaphysical implications of it all. Something similar happened when I took a job as a faculty member. Teaching classes, getting research started, attaining tenure – the meaning of life (at least for my life) was sort of laid out in the pile of papers on my desk, so I set aside any deeper questions. Until recently, that is. Now that I’m retired, I don’t have any doctoral exams, tenure reviews, merit assessments, really external pressures of any sort. All of a sudden I find myself waking up at 2 a.m. wondering, “What, after all, is the Meaning of Life?”

Such thoughts were buzzing around in my head as I set out the other day to take some photos in nearby Burnet Woods. Just by chance I ran across a cluster of oak trees, and, it being early December, the ground was covered with acorns. They brought back many happy associations. We had large oaks in our front and back yards at river house in Menominee, and they were the vehicles for a lot of enjoyable childhood activity. My brother Steven and I would have endless acorn fights, darting back and forth behind the Norway pines. Other times we would hold up metal garbage can covers as shields and pretend we were medieval knights, flinging acorn projectiles at one another. Or one person would stand out in the open space of the yard, dodging back and forth while the other would try to hit him from a distance (usually a challenging task). Acorns, of course, were also good for other sorts of throwing, e.g., trying to hit a floating tin can that we’d tossed in the river; seeing who could throw the farthest on land or sea; or hitting the flagpole from thirty feet away. Playing by myself, I would gather big assemblies of acorns and pine cones and form them into competing armies around the big white boulder at the foot of the oak trees, carrying out their attacks upon one another. Acorns were even useful for peaceful pursuits, e.g., becoming the painted heads of tiny people constructed with pine cone bodies and pipe cleaner limbs. We would even bury acorns in the earth in order to start a new forest.

As all this came back, I suddenly realized that acorns embody more important attributes than practically anything else in the world: fun and laughter, excitement, danger, freedom, activity, mastery, growth, imagination, creativity. Hmm. If one is struggling to discover the meaning of life, it seems to me there’s a pretty obvious answer: ACORNS! And here it’s been right in front of me all these many years. Needless to say, I’m extremely relieved to have resolved this lifelong quest, and I’m even happier to pass it along to friends and family. Here are a few acorn photos from Burnet Woods. Imagine interacting with them, and see if you don’t agree with me.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Vicki L (12-9-10): Hi David, I have a new friend/tenant moving into the back (outside) bedrooms… In the meantime, it's meant not only re-locating/discarding things…but also dealing with my own stuff. One category has been 'future craft projects'. Thought you'd be pleased to hear that I was unable to toss a 12 oz container of acorns I'd collected in Menominee. I loved your piece and must agree .... acorns represent the meaning of life as well as anything else. Fond memories .... and a profound thought.

-Ami G (12-9): Whew! I'm glad that's settled!

Being Two

J and V, K and L, in Burnet Woods

Dear George,

We got a lot of joy out of seeing our two-year-old grandkids, V and L, over the Thanksgiving holiday. Such an amazing, exciting age. The children have unbounded energy and curiosity about the entire world, much of which is brand new to them. Two years seems like sort of a midway point between infancy and full-fledged childhood. The kiddies still have streaks of wild beasts in them, but they are also semi-socialized beings who are eager to please parents and others. They have mastered piercing shrieks which they produce in unison, then laugh hilariously as adults grimace and cover their ears. Their inner motors run at high speed for hours on end, and then they fall into deep sleep within moments after they lie down. Being in the midst of such major life changes, V and L vacillate back and forth between clinginess and independence, laughter and tears, obedience and stubborn resistance. K and J respond consistently with affection, attention, sensitivity, and unwavering patience. They are super parental role models. Here are some photos which show a little bit of what the children are like as two-year-olds.

L and V are very capable of sustained attention. We had a DVD of Disney’s Dumbo from the Clifton library, and the children were captivated. (So were the adults.)

V and L snacked all day long, ate whatever was put before them. Looking for a playground on a frigid morning, we drove to a McDonald’s Playland in suburban Finneytown, but they were out of business. Arby’s was a nearby substitute. L and V enjoyed their french fries o.k., but what they liked even better was putting their fingers in the catsup container, then licking them off.

The children’s mobility keeps improving at a rapid pace, even in the few months since we last saw V. Everywhere we went outdoors they were busy running like demons. As far back as I can remember I’ve had a dream of running fast, then jumping off the ground and soaring through the air for yards and yards. Now I think that must go all the way back to the exhilarating feeling of being two years old and running free in the world.

We hadn’t planned it, but it turned out that the leather-covered platform bench in our living room was perfect for bouncing two-year-olds.

V was fearless on the swing, and, as high as her dad pushed her, she always wanted to go higher.

The WPA-constructed concrete slide at Burnet Woods park was another test of toddler courage. L the Brave mastered it from his first attempt.

When you were two, would you have put your head in an alligator’s mouth? Not me.

V, filled with confidence about life, was comfortable going off on her own.

But the happiest times were being with Mom.

And being with Dad.

Or with Nana.

Or a sister and a brother being with one other. Despite occasional minor tiffs, the two siblings were very attached to and caring of one another. They loved to say one another’s names.

Days proceeded with such fervor that it was inevitable that little people got drowsy once they were in their pajamas. They seemed to fall asleep in seconds and virtually never woke up during the night. That’s probably a good indicator of happy, contented children.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Ami G (12-7): Loved the baby pictures. Now that it's winter, I think you should start taking photos of your room and all your collections. Yes?

-Linda C (12-5): again than you so much for this wonderful blog, l just love it.

-Gayle CL (12-5): David. Thank You for the wonderful description of the children... I could picture them perfectly;). I am so glad you got to spend time w them and see the world thru their eyes. Hope to see u soon. Keep writing the letters;) Give my love ;)))) G

L and V Do Cincinnati

At the Zoo: Dad J & Mom K with kids V (held) & L (in stroller)

Dear George,

On Tuesday we wound up a week-long Thanksgiving visit with our son and daughter-in-law, J and K, and our two-year-old grandkids, V and L, all of whom flew up from New Orleans. It was more fun than one could imagine. Because we live far apart, getting together is always a memorable occasion. J, K, and V (along with K’s dad Ted) had travelled to China in late summer to bring L back home with them, so it was our first time to see our new grandson in person. L was everything we could hope for. Both children are as cute as pixies, and they have energy levels of whirling dervishes. Plus they are totally smart. I don’t think that L had had any prior English exposure before three months ago, yet he communicated successfully and seemed to understand just about everything his parents and sister said to him. V, too, had grown a lot in language and motor skills in the short time since we’d last saw her in June. Everybody commented on how well she speaks. J had cautioned us to babyproof everything, and it was apt advice since the kiddies were endlessly curious and liked to examine everything in sight. As on our last trip, V showed a strong attachment to her grandma. When we drove across town and J pointed out the building where I worked, V asked, “Nana work there too?” And when it came time to leave, V gave a kiss and spontaneously volunteered, “I love you, Nana.” L too was full of hugs and smiles at meetings and departures. I took a lot of photos, and I’ll put a larger batch on Flickr. Here are some highlights of our week.

We worried a bit beforehand about four adults, two toddlers, and two big sheepdogs all occupying the same space, but the dogs were gentle with the children, and the children were remarkably good with them. V and L had their own bedrooms upstairs, while J and K camped out in the living room.

The children seem to be full of play genes, and they loved doing many things, old and new. We’d stocked up at the thrift shop, and Jennifer and her family lent us still more toys. L was fascinated with pulling the lever to release the brightly colored balls.

The preschool school bus was a huge hit – just their size and speed for the little ones.

Donna had trimmed V’s hair on her last visit, and she did so again. V, with her growing sense of independence, wasn’t as into it this time around.

Paula D and Jordan came over for a late afternoon visit. L and V had many laughs and giggles playing with 20-year-old Jordan (who was much older than the kids but still closer to being a young person than the rest of us).

I got more firsthand familiarity with Cincinnati playgrounds this trip than ever before. Dunore Park is just down the street from us. It contains a little playground pitched to two-year-olds, but the kids have nearly grown out of it. Nonetheless, L enjoyed driving the “bus” and taking his Mom for a ride.

Clifton’s Burnet Woods was a more plentiful offering, with playground swings, a giant slide, the hiking trails and gazebo. Here’s our group making their way up the stairs from the playground and through the woods.

The park’s shelter house became a play room in its own right. The two favorite games were: (a) Dad chase the kids, and (b) kids chase Dad. Even Grandpa got into the act. Lots of screaming, squealing, and excitement.

With lots of room to run around in, L and V invented their own mini-soccer game, kicking around the giant yellow-greenish seed pod.

Mt. Airy Forest had the biggest and best playground gym, but the magnificent Treehouse was the highlight of our expedition. Set off in the forest, mounted forty feet up in the air, and suspendend by four or five big hardwood trees, it could have vaporized out of a fairy tale.

L was sleepy one afternoon, and J and I took V to Eden Park and visited the holiday show at the Krohn Conservatory. V liked the waterfall, the model train displays, the poinsettias, the other little kids, and, most of all, the teenage violinists.

Then we drove to the nearby Eden Park Overlook. When J was a little kid, he was fascinated by the statue of the mother Wolf nursing Romulus and Remus. Wouldn’t you know, V was just as fascinated too.

The zoo was the biggest and best of our family outings. In addition to the elephants, giraffes, gorillas, manatees, a baby wallaby, and two baby cougars, V had a lot of fun chasing the barnyard hens to and fro.

Being late afternoon we weren’t allowed to enter the petting zoo, but that didn’t stop some of us from doing their petting by stretching over the fence.

On the last morning Katja had to leave early for work, and V watched solemnly over the patio fence as she got in the car to drive off. Later, when we got ready to leave for the airport, V cried and cried. Maybe she was just tired from an abbreviated nap, but I imagined that she and L were sad about their vacation in Cincinnati coming to an end. I know for sure that we were too.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Gayle CL (12-6): Hi. Absolutely;))))))) thx David for always connecting :). It means so much to me;)))) L O L. G

-Phyllis SS (12-5): Dave, How lovely - I can see now how much your son looks like you. Phyllis

-Vicki L (12-4): Hi D, What a lovely story. That's all I can say. Thank you, Sis