A dad came into the library to check out the limit of seven DVDs. "You must be planning to hole up with air conditioning all week to beat the heat," I said.
"Oh, no. We are heading out on a family road trip," he replied.
"Gosh, when I was a kid we looked out the window and counted windmills," I said.
"Things are different now," he said, obviously sure that the differences were improvements.
And that is a big chunk of what's wrong with the world from where I sit. There's not much wrong with modern day families that couldn't be bettered by a long ride west on two-lane Highway 6 in a '54 Chevy with a few gravel road detours and the aromas of hot tar and cattle lots.
Kids learn pretty fast how not to push grown-ups over the edge with endless questions and bickering. They learn that annoying your siblings just makes everyone hotter, sweatier, and more stuck to the vinyl backseat. That's a big incentive to get along and to find pleasant diversions. Looking out the window observing the towns, fields, trucks, signs, and windmills might help build a connection to the landscape that might eventually become a sense of stewardship for the planet.
It's not the destination. It's the road trip. And if you see the first white horse, you win.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
Showing posts with label road construction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label road construction. Show all posts
6/5/11
Communing with balloons
Took flowers for Dad's vase after lunch. He'd been pretty sharp in the morning, just uncomfortable being folded wrong in his bed. Dad doesn't weigh much these days, but still enough that I need an aide's help to scoot Dad up toward the pillow. Then I can raise the head of the bed so Dad can sit up to drink coffee, always important!
After lunch I stopped back with the bouquet. Dad was still sitting up, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth agape, and hands tracing the route of the suspended ceiling's grid. He looked like a flight attendant pointing to the exits during the safety demo. Oblivious to me, I arranged the flowers, chatted about lunch, took off his glasses and cleaned them. He grabbed the glasses back and returned to communing with the ceiling. Pair of L lines receding toward the horizon.
Spur of the moment, I headed to downtown Dallas for free admission First Saturday at the Nasher Sculpture Center. I needed art. I needed free. I needed driving directions! "You cain't get thar from hyere" should be the Mavs welcome to Heat fans. Downtown is a massive detour due to construction on the Woodall Rodgers deck park that will change the freeway into a tunnel with a giant urban park above (take a virtual fly-through at the link). For now you cain't fly through. You cain't exit. You cain't backtrack. You cain't find the parking garage at the Dallas Museum of Art to save your life. Not even from the three-point line.
While I was struggling to get off of Woodall Rodgers to circle back to the Arts District, I got a view of the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge, also under construction. The bridge is the first of a proposed trio designed by Santiago Calatrava for the Trinity River Project. It would be nice if the construction went as quickly as this time-lapse video.
While it looked like I might be stuck on the Interstate all the way north to Denton, I was able to exit at Victory Avenue. This was as up-close as I've been to the site of tonight's game three of the NBA Finals. It figures that I was lost at the time.
This is not a map of downtown Dallas with detours, but there's a resemblance to my completed Worm Knot textile project.
The good news is that my auto travails were completely worth it. The Nasher Center has an outdoor exhibit, "Statuesque" with very fun works by Aaron Curry in blazing pink and lime green.
The bright colors contrast with the dark figures of Thomas Houseago. (Both these artists were born in 1972). Hut, hut, hut! The works resemble football centers from this angle.
And Curry's "Horned Head Trip" looks a bit like my new "CollageMama" Chinese chop:
Wait in a long line with anticipation building for your turn inside the balloon room. A few people lost their nerve, as I would have in my anxiety days. When you get to the arrangement of cacti you are on deck. No eyeglasses allowed in the balloons. It would be easy to lose them. You begin to anticipate the static effect on your hair before you even enter. The atmosphere is that electric.
You are in! You are pushing your way through balloons. You push them up for a glimpse of the ceiling. It takes surprising effort to move. You push until you find a wall, then turn. It's loud. Kids are shrieking with joy. You push through balloons to find a person pushing toward you and both shriek with surprise! It is cool, and not as humid as expected. There's plenty of air, of course in all the spaces between balloons. You breathe and fill with joy. All other thoughts are gone. You are IN ORANGE BALLOONS. What else could there be?
Your five minutes are ending. You find the windows, and then the door. People are taking photos of you through the windows, documenting reactions. You are pleased to emerge without letting any balloons escape. You feel a bond with everyone who has been inside. You may never be quite the same. You have been on a very odd detour!
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
After lunch I stopped back with the bouquet. Dad was still sitting up, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth agape, and hands tracing the route of the suspended ceiling's grid. He looked like a flight attendant pointing to the exits during the safety demo. Oblivious to me, I arranged the flowers, chatted about lunch, took off his glasses and cleaned them. He grabbed the glasses back and returned to communing with the ceiling. Pair of L lines receding toward the horizon.
Spur of the moment, I headed to downtown Dallas for free admission First Saturday at the Nasher Sculpture Center. I needed art. I needed free. I needed driving directions! "You cain't get thar from hyere" should be the Mavs welcome to Heat fans. Downtown is a massive detour due to construction on the Woodall Rodgers deck park that will change the freeway into a tunnel with a giant urban park above (take a virtual fly-through at the link). For now you cain't fly through. You cain't exit. You cain't backtrack. You cain't find the parking garage at the Dallas Museum of Art to save your life. Not even from the three-point line.
While I was struggling to get off of Woodall Rodgers to circle back to the Arts District, I got a view of the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge, also under construction. The bridge is the first of a proposed trio designed by Santiago Calatrava for the Trinity River Project. It would be nice if the construction went as quickly as this time-lapse video.
While it looked like I might be stuck on the Interstate all the way north to Denton, I was able to exit at Victory Avenue. This was as up-close as I've been to the site of tonight's game three of the NBA Finals. It figures that I was lost at the time.
The good news is that my auto travails were completely worth it. The Nasher Center has an outdoor exhibit, "Statuesque" with very fun works by Aaron Curry in blazing pink and lime green.
The bright colors contrast with the dark figures of Thomas Houseago. (Both these artists were born in 1972). Hut, hut, hut! The works resemble football centers from this angle.
What about the balloons? What about the communing? That's a whole different exhibit on the lower level of the Nasher Center. "Whole different" doesn't begin to describe the experience of "Sightings: Martin Creed".
Walk down the stairs, and the balloon-filled room grabs your vision. But, wait, these are musical stairs. Each step plays a tone. You and everyone else is making the strange music filling the museum.
Wait in a long line with anticipation building for your turn inside the balloon room. A few people lost their nerve, as I would have in my anxiety days. When you get to the arrangement of cacti you are on deck. No eyeglasses allowed in the balloons. It would be easy to lose them. You begin to anticipate the static effect on your hair before you even enter. The atmosphere is that electric.
You are in! You are pushing your way through balloons. You push them up for a glimpse of the ceiling. It takes surprising effort to move. You push until you find a wall, then turn. It's loud. Kids are shrieking with joy. You push through balloons to find a person pushing toward you and both shriek with surprise! It is cool, and not as humid as expected. There's plenty of air, of course in all the spaces between balloons. You breathe and fill with joy. All other thoughts are gone. You are IN ORANGE BALLOONS. What else could there be?
Your five minutes are ending. You find the windows, and then the door. People are taking photos of you through the windows, documenting reactions. You are pleased to emerge without letting any balloons escape. You feel a bond with everyone who has been inside. You may never be quite the same. You have been on a very odd detour!
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
2/2/06
Power Series
In the last two weeks I've had the great luck to see paintings of powerful machines. The Dallas Museum of Art is showing paintings by Charles Sheeler known as the "Power Series". Sheeler made the paintings on commission for Fortune magazine in the late 1930's to celebrate mankind's attempts to harness nature. The images are of an old-fashioned waterwheel, a coal shovel, a steam turbine, a hydroelectric power turbine, an airplane propeller, the wheels of a locomotive, and electrical power transmission towers at Boulder Dam.
Sheeler referred to himself as a "Precisionist". His paintings show no brush strokes, and are closely related to his photographs. They are completely unlike my own artistic tastes, and yet I've always been fond of them. This piece is owned by the Dallas Museum of Art, and always holds my attention:
As the daughter of engineers I visited construction sites, industrial plants, hydroelectric dams, and noteworthy architectural sites as a child. I was well aware of the construction of Interstate 80 across Nebraska. The highlight of any trip to McCook, Nebraska, with the Interstate construction detours, was a visit to the bridge over the railroad tracks at the train station. Watching trains pass beneath the bridge was as much fun for me as it was for Harry the Dirty Dog, by Gene Zion and Margaret Bloy Graham. I thank the Out of Lascaux blogger for these images of Sheeler's paintings.
Now it's time for a different Power collection, painted by a five-year-old boy. Here are two tempera paintings from Sam's "Three Machines" series. How terrific that his concepts of machines include both grid structures and radiating energy!
Sheeler referred to himself as a "Precisionist". His paintings show no brush strokes, and are closely related to his photographs. They are completely unlike my own artistic tastes, and yet I've always been fond of them. This piece is owned by the Dallas Museum of Art, and always holds my attention:
As the daughter of engineers I visited construction sites, industrial plants, hydroelectric dams, and noteworthy architectural sites as a child. I was well aware of the construction of Interstate 80 across Nebraska. The highlight of any trip to McCook, Nebraska, with the Interstate construction detours, was a visit to the bridge over the railroad tracks at the train station. Watching trains pass beneath the bridge was as much fun for me as it was for Harry the Dirty Dog, by Gene Zion and Margaret Bloy Graham. I thank the Out of Lascaux blogger for these images of Sheeler's paintings.
Now it's time for a different Power collection, painted by a five-year-old boy. Here are two tempera paintings from Sam's "Three Machines" series. How terrific that his concepts of machines include both grid structures and radiating energy!
5/25/05
Make a new plan, Stan!
Hop on the bus, Gus!*
My brother-in-law has an expression about being ready to gnaw off his left arm if he doesn't get out of a church service or meeting soon. I certainly felt ready to gnaw off my left arm during the graduation ceremony for the 1112 members of the high school class of 2005 yesterday afternoon.
The ceremony was held at Reunion Arena in downtown Dallas where the Mavericks and Stars used to play. Graduation for my middle son two years ago was held there also. My oldest graduated in the sweltering Texas Stadium (where the Cowboys still play) with the class of 2000, one of the largest graduating classes ever in Texas. That "graduation from hell" is legendary in these parts, as is the incredible traffic jam that followed the ceremony. After that hours long jam, I vowed I would never drive to a graduation again.
We went down to Reunion Arena on the bus from the senior high, which was fine. Riding the bus to and from Reunion in 2003 went fine. This time it took two full hours to get back to the senior high after the mind-numbing ceremony. Big wreck under the High Five at rush hour, but our bus driver didn't know any other way back to Plano. We finally got off "Central" 75 with the help of another bus driver herding our bus along like a stubborn dogey, but by then the alternate routes were also big jams. It was exhausting. The air conditioner wasn't cooling, passengers were sweating, fanning themselves, snoring, talking loudly, or listening to all the stomachs growl as we inched along. Worst, the situation was out of our control. In our own cars, we could battle the frustration by taking action, pitting our wits against the Evil Traffic Beast. On the bus we were just starving passengers in pinching dress shoes who hadn't eaten since breakfast. In a moment of supreme maternal sacrifice, I gave my graduate the only Starburst in the bottom of my purse. That's all the pomp I could muster under the circumstances.
I work near the High Five construction for the 75-635 Interchange. I am really quite fond of driving through the interchange and noting the progress. I'm still the structural engineer's daughter! I am amazed that such an enormous and complex undertaking is proceding as smoothly as it is, and ahead of schedule, too. I just discovered that I can view webcams facing each direction of the interchange. Take a look. Squint hard and you can see the bus. I'm the one waving out the window!
Slip out the back Jack
Make a new plan Stan
Don't need to be coy Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus Gus
Don't need to discuss much
Just drop of the key Lee
And get yourself free
*Paul Simon's Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover
My brother-in-law has an expression about being ready to gnaw off his left arm if he doesn't get out of a church service or meeting soon. I certainly felt ready to gnaw off my left arm during the graduation ceremony for the 1112 members of the high school class of 2005 yesterday afternoon.
The ceremony was held at Reunion Arena in downtown Dallas where the Mavericks and Stars used to play. Graduation for my middle son two years ago was held there also. My oldest graduated in the sweltering Texas Stadium (where the Cowboys still play) with the class of 2000, one of the largest graduating classes ever in Texas. That "graduation from hell" is legendary in these parts, as is the incredible traffic jam that followed the ceremony. After that hours long jam, I vowed I would never drive to a graduation again.
We went down to Reunion Arena on the bus from the senior high, which was fine. Riding the bus to and from Reunion in 2003 went fine. This time it took two full hours to get back to the senior high after the mind-numbing ceremony. Big wreck under the High Five at rush hour, but our bus driver didn't know any other way back to Plano. We finally got off "Central" 75 with the help of another bus driver herding our bus along like a stubborn dogey, but by then the alternate routes were also big jams. It was exhausting. The air conditioner wasn't cooling, passengers were sweating, fanning themselves, snoring, talking loudly, or listening to all the stomachs growl as we inched along. Worst, the situation was out of our control. In our own cars, we could battle the frustration by taking action, pitting our wits against the Evil Traffic Beast. On the bus we were just starving passengers in pinching dress shoes who hadn't eaten since breakfast. In a moment of supreme maternal sacrifice, I gave my graduate the only Starburst in the bottom of my purse. That's all the pomp I could muster under the circumstances.
I work near the High Five construction for the 75-635 Interchange. I am really quite fond of driving through the interchange and noting the progress. I'm still the structural engineer's daughter! I am amazed that such an enormous and complex undertaking is proceding as smoothly as it is, and ahead of schedule, too. I just discovered that I can view webcams facing each direction of the interchange. Take a look. Squint hard and you can see the bus. I'm the one waving out the window!
Slip out the back Jack
Make a new plan Stan
Don't need to be coy Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus Gus
Don't need to discuss much
Just drop of the key Lee
And get yourself free
*Paul Simon's Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover
8/18/04
Superhuman AND Nonexistent
The only for sure thing at the Santa Fe Opera's performance of "Don Giovanni" is the elevation of the tailgate picnic to a fine art form. Forget Wimbledon's strawberries and the Derby's mint juleps. I have a friend who should quit her day job and become an opera tailgate banquet consultant.
Got to the opera early enough to attend the first "prelude" lecture. What fun! The old ladies with their wheely oxygen tanks and I grooved on the insights of the handsome young tenorish lecturer. I am beginning to understand the comparison of "Don Giovanni" to "Hamlet". There are so many ways to interpret the opera. Is it a conflict between lust and respectability? Is it about revenge vs. forgiveness? Is it about the mystery of what women really want? Our lecturer indicated that we might be added to the Don's list as we became fascinated with the questions.
After the lecture I had time to loiter around the box office waiting for our wonderful Noelle and her young man. What splendid people-watching! What cloud and mountain watching!
On the way to the opera I saw this wonderfully effective sign in a construction zone:
Please slow down. My daddy works here.
The opera, art museum, and chamber music gift shops were all about fancy shawls of velour and lace or beads. Back on Saturday when I went to the Albuquerque Museum of Art I saw an afghan crocheted of cassette recording tape. Maybe there's a market for something in the middle!
Got to the opera early enough to attend the first "prelude" lecture. What fun! The old ladies with their wheely oxygen tanks and I grooved on the insights of the handsome young tenorish lecturer. I am beginning to understand the comparison of "Don Giovanni" to "Hamlet". There are so many ways to interpret the opera. Is it a conflict between lust and respectability? Is it about revenge vs. forgiveness? Is it about the mystery of what women really want? Our lecturer indicated that we might be added to the Don's list as we became fascinated with the questions.
After the lecture I had time to loiter around the box office waiting for our wonderful Noelle and her young man. What splendid people-watching! What cloud and mountain watching!
On the way to the opera I saw this wonderfully effective sign in a construction zone:
Please slow down. My daddy works here.
The opera, art museum, and chamber music gift shops were all about fancy shawls of velour and lace or beads. Back on Saturday when I went to the Albuquerque Museum of Art I saw an afghan crocheted of cassette recording tape. Maybe there's a market for something in the middle!
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