I Feel Lucky

For all of my life, except for 5 years, I have lived in or near Lafayette/West Lafayette.  I took many things about my community for granted. The appearance did not change much through the first twenty years of my life.  In 1973 a large enclosed shopping mall was built at the south edge of town.  New housing additions were being built in both towns. Those additions were all being built at the far edges away from the centers of town.  

At first the changes where not noticeable.  In most ways the town continued to have the same feel and look. When the Mall opened it took J.C.Penny from a downtown location.  It also took Sears from near downtown.  By the mid 70's many of our old downtown buildings were beginning to look tired and worn, a lot of them were a hundred years or older.  Gradually other businesses began closing, many of them having been long time downtown businesses.   Loebs Department store which had been a downtown institution for almost a century closed.  Reifers Furniture, another long time downtown business closed. The whole downtown from Ferry street to Main Street to Columbia Street and South Street was beginning to look tired, sad, and worn out.  Downtown was well past its prime.  

So what makes me feel lucky?  It sounds like a sad story, and it would be a sad story had it ended in 1990 after 20, and more years of decline.  Instead, like a human who beats cancer, or someone who gets a heart transplant...the downtown began to grow healthier following a series of changes and it continues to improve in health every year.  

A large part of the credit for downtown's comeback goes to the Lafayette Railroad Relocation project.  Removing the trains that bisected town was a huge benefit for both traffic and safety through downtown and into West Lafayette. The first railroad was relocated in 1994, ending 142 years of train traffic down the middle of 14 blocks of Fifth St. The second Railroad was relocated in 2001. It was a project that had taken about 30 years from developing and talking about the idea through funding and construction.  Two new bridges were built, the old Main Street bridge was turned into a pedestrian bridge between Lafayette and sister city West Lafayette. A third bridge also saw improvements also.  Two underpasses were installed under the new corridor at Wabash Avenue and North 9th.  and finally the old brick railroad depot was moved to a new plaza that anchors the west end of Main street next to the new corridor which now runs next to the Wabash. 

 Almost immediately you started to see that change was happening.  Empty store fronts were no longer empty. Outdoor art appeared in many locations around downtown.  New buildings, including nice condos were added along 2nd street and along Main street filling up space that had become parking lots 50 years ago.  People were living downtown again. Today on a walk along Main street from 11th down to 2nd street you see almost no empty buildings. 

Perhaps one of the most positive results of all this new excitement about downtown is that a lot of interest has been created in support of historic preservation. Much of that excitement has been created by one talented and dedicated young man who has a passion for preservation.  Because of that new interest, many of the old buildings have had facelifts that not only preserves them but does so in a manner that is sensitive to the style of the buildings.  

One of the fun changers downtown that I love is the appearance of what I call "alley art" which are murals painted on available wall space by some very talented young artists.  Each mural is different but they could be described as enchanting, dazzling,  intriguing, ironic,  or silly but every one of them is fun to look at and they add both color and excitement to our downtown.  Once again downtown a fun place to go shopping, to eat out, or to simply walk along and enjoy the views.  As I said, I feel lucky to live in a town that was able to pull itself up by the bootstraps, even it it has taken the better part of 50 years. I'm excited to see what's next.  

At Riehle Plaza the anchor of Main street

As we pass through the doors of 200 years of history for Lafayette

A little playful humor

More alley art.  

Honoring the Wabash

One of my favorite pieces of sculpture with courthouse dome in background
 

Refurbished. This was once a fires station
during the days of horse drawn equipment.

 

A little excitment at night. 

Midway down Main, the old Lafayette theater brought back by the City. 
Appropriate words on the Marquee, Eat - Drink - Explore 

 

Memories

I want to keep them!

Where have they gone? 

Some memories are better forgotten.  Other memories you want to hang on to.  All things considered,  I would rather have memories, even it means I must have both of those types.  Memories can bring great joy, like the ones I remember of sitting on the porch swing with my grandma "Meme" and watching the sun sets, or at about age 5 the faint memory of sitting on the edge of the bed with my other grandma with her arm around me.  I don't remember if we were talking but I clearly remember the feeling of being loved. I can still see that room, even where the bed was located in the room.  

A couple of nights ago as I was getting into bed my back itched and I asked my wife if she would scratch my back.  I lifted my T-shirt and she gave my back some great itch relief.  As she was doing that I said, did you know I have a numb place on my stomach?  She said, That's probably from when you had your appendix removed.   What? I had my appendix removed.  She told me the story of the Christmas when I got sick a day or two before Christmas and she took me to urgent care and from there I was transported by ambulance to the hospital where they took out my appendix, and that I was released from the hospital and we were able to have our family Christmas celebration on time.  My immediate thought was "She must be making that up, I have no recollection of any part of what she just said, how could I not remember something like that?"  The next morning I texted both of our daughters to see if they remembered such an event....they both did! My reaction might have been "Damn, what's going on in my head?"  But I wasn't really surprised.  

In the summer of 2020 I had a seizure, the first one I had what what I can only describe as talking and even walking around the room, but at the same time not being aware of anything at all.  We attributed it to perhaps I had a heat stroke or something. I had just come in from some heavy work in my flower beds on a typical very hot humid day here in Indiana.  I do remember thinking I wanted to go inside to get a drink of cold icewater.  

A couple of months later another "event".  My wife and I were sitting at our computers in the office.  My wife told me later. "you were sitting in your chair, spun around and vomited on the floor, then I cleaned up the mess and we went back to our computers.  That evening she asked me,  "how are you feeling now".  "I feel fine, why?"  She told me she was just concerned because I had thrown up that afternoon.  I looked at her like she was nuts, told her I didn't know what she was talking about,  then I got up and looked in the waste basket for dirty paper towels. CRAP...THERE THEY WERE.  WTF IS WRONG WITH ME? 

The rest of the year passed with nothing unusual happening. Then came March 16th. Just an ordinary day.  We finished dinner and I picked up my plate and carried it to the kitchen thinking to myself I was going to find something for dessert.  my wife heard a loud crash and called out asking if I was all right.  I did not respond.  She found me laying on the floor in the pantry, unconscious, she talked to me, and then touched my leg and she said my whole body stiffened when she touched me. She called 911 and soon the fire department arrived. I am told, but do not remember that the firefighters helped me up off the floor and walked me to the dinning room and were talking to me.  I have no memory of any of that. Then the Ambulance arrived and they helped me onto the cot and wheeled me down to the street and hoisted me into the back of the truck.  I do have a sort of hazy recollection of the feeling of being lifted up and I recall that the medic kept talking to me, asking questions all the way to the hospital and all I wanted to do was go to sleep.  As they were unloading me things were clearing up in my head and I remember being wheeled into the ER and of the events that happened there.   I had a cat scan which showed no stroke so they sent me home and did not make a specific diagnosis, just an unexplained loss of consciousness. 

I followed up with a visit to the family doctor and he referred  me to a neurologist.  After 4 or 5 EEG tests, including one where I was wired up for a whole weekend the neurologist explained that I was having seizures of the type called "complex partial seizure or sometimes called focal onset impaired awareness seizures.  Epilepsy, who saw that coming at age 70? 

I believe, though it has not been confirmed by my neurologist, that my loss of some memories is related to the seizure issue.  At any rate I am much more conscious of my memories than I once was.  I'm also more afraid of losing more of my memories.  The bottom line is what I said before,  I'd rather have memories, even if all of them are not roses and rainbows.  

 

I DON'T GET IT

Exclaimer:  I am not a politician, nor an expert in foreign affairs, nor a military expert. I have friends and neighbors who might be of the Jewish faith, I might have friends or neighbors who are of the Muslim Faith, or perhaps Catholic, or Baptists, and so on.   But you know what?  I don't know what faith they are because I never asked.  I believe a person's faith is between themselves and God.  It's none of my business. 

The Middle East has been suffering through more war and killing since October and it was all started by a group of radicals who took the lives of more than 1000 people who were minding their own business on the other side of a border between Gaza and Israel and then that was followed by Israel "getting even" and attempting to eradicate the entire group of radical murderers.  Don't get me wrong, I believe Hamas consists of men who are murderers and are guilty of crimes against the law as well as moral crimes. They should all be put out of business, permanently.  

That said, I want to first ask a question.  If someone murders my wife is it right for me (or the state acting in my place) to then find and kill that murderer,  Of course it is.  But is it right that the state,  while in the process of finding and killing that murderer also decides to kill the wife of the murderer, the children of said murderer, his cousins, his grandmother, and his neighbors who knew nothing about his crime?  I think not.  In that way it is as heinous as what the the murderer did in the first place.  I don't understand why the world is not appalled by the manner in which Israel attempts to eliminate Hamas.  

My second thought, and maybe even more important,  and even more confusing to me is this.  Even if Israel were able to eliminate ever single Hamas fighter and leader they have surely created thousands more enemies in the process, new enemies that live right next door.  Am I misunderstanding human nature? If my three year old child is blown to bits by an Israeli rocket I believe I'd end up being a dangerous enemy to Israel in the future, even though I was not originally associated with Hamas and even if I had held no grudges against Israel prior to them murdering my 3 year old daughter.  Harsh language you think?  I think it's just being honest about human nature.  Israel will be no better off in a year than they were at the beginning of their pursuit of the Hamas murderers and maybe worse.  

Scenes of dead children break my heart and bring me to tears.  I can no longer even bear to watch the news. I understand there are Israeli parents and children who are suffering now too.  For the good of all humanity this killing must end.  I don't understand how world leaders, including those in our country don't demand it.  

 

 When I started this blog soon after retiring I thought that I would be posting a lot of photography but that never quite happened.  I have a confession to make,  since I got my iphone I have used that camera much more often than my good Nikon and lenses.  It's always in my pocket so I can often get a quick shot that I might have missed with the "good" camera.  Actually the iphone camera isn't bad if you are careful while shooting the picture.  Since we are nearing the end of another year I thought it would be fun to post some of my own favorites from the past year and talk about why I like them.  So let's get started. There is about one each month.  

The common denominator in most of my photography is color and shape. This one was a good example of color on the vine and the shape and location of the window in the frame.  

One of my very favorite neighborhood homes in the beautiful early evening light. I really like shooting 

late afternoon evening light all the way into sunset.  

Here is another one with both shapes and colors.  The white, yellow, and blue caught my eye along with the curved stairs and circular ceiling above. 

Here we go again with shape and color, but with some local history in the background with the courthouse dome showing through one of the openings in the sculpture.  

Need you even ask?  I started out photographing a lot of people.  Senior pictures, a couple of weddings and some other events, but I soon discovered that wasn't for me but this one was just too good to pass up looking unrehearsed and natural.  

Besides color I liked the way the background color was soft while the foreground was sharp. Prophetstown State park and this one was taken with my Nikon equipment.  

This place just shows off for night shots. 

I love this one.  This guy comes around and keeps an eye on the bird feeders.  He was giving me the once over but he did let me get pretty close.  

I have a really good view of sunsets from my office window. I have no views of sunrise so I often take advantage of the sunsets...this one had great color and I like the roofline of the house next door and 

of the church steeple down the street.  

The sunsets can be so different from day to day but they all have great color 

This is not an especially good photo but it had some senimental meaning to me.  My grandparents had a windmill not far from the front of their house and a trumpet vine with flowers like these climbed all the way up that windmill.  When we were young we would pick those flowers and stick them on our fingers which made us look like we had long orange fingers.  

Some cool stone carving but I've never figured out how that face ended up on the side of a church.  

I'm always happy to see new life popping up when spring arrives.  The fern sprouts have a nice top spiral as they come up

Finally, this one of the Wabash just after sunset way back in February   I loved the striped sky and reflection on the water.  

Good old American Consumerism AKA Conspicuous Consumption

 

I read a funny quote on Facebook the other day.  Life consists of three phases: 

1. Wanting stuff

2. Collecting stuff

3. Getting rid of stuff 

Camilla and I have hit phase three I believe. At our age I think it's natural to start thinking about "downsizing" and a big part of that involves evaluating what you have and what you can do without.  As I was emptying the dishwasher and putting things away the other day I stopped and actually looked at the wall cupboard where we keep our coffee mugs.  My lord...why do we have over 30 coffee mugs...in addition to the white ceramic coffee cups that match one of our china sets.  I have not counted to see what the actual total is.  I'm afraid to.  I did however take a quick photo of that wall cupboard just to give readers some idea of how runaway our "collecting" of coffee mugs has gone.  

I would guess that we are not any different than a large number of other folks. Our American economy is based on consumerism so companies have always worked hard to increase our desire to have "stuff".  We have been convinced that possessions are a sign of wealth, and wealth equals worth to many.  So we buy, collect and accumulate more stuff to in order to make us feel better about ourselves.  Not because we need more stuff but we long for more worth.  When we get a new thing it makes us feel better about ourseves, at least for a while.  

So going back to my question about why we have so many coffee mugs.  We both have a small number of "favorites" that we use most days.  Usually we make a pot of regular coffee each morning and then a pot of decaf in the afternoon but we usually use the same cup all day, and sometimes I use the same mug for more than one day with just a hot water rinse between days.  Some of our mugs have been gifts, I think we brought a few home from my parent's home after mom died. We did a lot of travel in the first several years after I retired and some of the cups are souvenirs from places we have visited.  I have a colorful Route 66 mug as we have traveled that road a few times on our way to Arizona.  It might be the mug I use most often.  A basic fact  of life is that "too much of anything is the beginning of a mess." In truth we have created a mess and having a lot of stuff just complicates our lives. 

So which mugs would we eliminate if we wanted to simplify our lives? I'm not sure yet, but I think we will find out one of these days soon but coffee mugs are just the tip of the clutter iceberg.  

Our clothing is just as much a nightmare as our coffee cups.  My closet was full, tightly packed full of shirts, in fact I was using two closets, one just for shirts and another for pants.  There were, and still are, so many shirts that the closet rods were literally packed so tight that it was hard to get a hanger off the rod without messing up 2 or three adjoining hangers.  Before retirement I was using lots of shirts, a clean ironed dress shirt every day.  Now some of those same shirts are still hanging there,  unworn for several years.  Earlier this week I cleaned out my shirt closet, pants closet, and went through my sweaters and sweatshirts and I ended up taking 3 large bags of clothes to the Salvation Army.  

We have lots more to donate or sell in order to simplify our lives, but at least we have started moving in the right direction.  

   

                                                The Boy Felt Lost

It was one of those almost perfect early summer days. The boy sat on a large lower branch of the ancient oak tree 8 or 10 feet above the ground.  Above him a hawk circled against the bright blue sky.  He was so glad that school was out for the year. He was looking ahead to a summer filled with wading in the creek, fishing, riding his bicycle, swimming, playing in the woods, or building hay bale forts in the haymow of the barn.

The school year that had ended two weeks earlier had not been a happy time. Teachers told his parents that he was a bright boy but not working up to his potential. His grades were not failing, but achievement seldom exceeded average.  He really didn’t understand how it was possible that he was “bright” when he found school so challenging.  It was hard for him to stay on task, his mind wanted to go everywhere except to the task or subject at hand.  

Those academic issues had been difficult for his father to understand or to know how to help.  His father had been an exceptional student who had brought home report cards full of A or B grades.  His Dad would get so frustrated trying to help with math...Often that frustration turned to angry frustration,  and his anger just made those sessions all the more unhelpful. His father had also been a good athlete and had excelled and enjoyed both baseball and basketball during his youth.  Throwing, hitting, or kicking balls felt awkward for the boy.  

The boy idolized his father.  He always had. Even before he knew the definition of the word ‘hero’ he thought of his father in that way.  He wanted to be the man that was his father.  He wanted to please his father but had no idea how to do that.  He often felt that he didn’t fit in at school, he felt adrift and in some indescribable way he also felt different, but couldn’t explain that either.  He climbed down from the tree and then over the fence into the adjoining open woods where a dozen cattle grazed quietly.  

The boy moved effortlessly through the herd and down the hill to the creek where he found some small flat stones which he skipped over the smooth surface of the slow moving water.  A trick his dad had taught him.  

A splash in the creek got his attention…it was a muskrat and the sound had startled him out of a day dream.  He decided it would be a good day to do some fishing and he walked back home, found a can in the trash and went looking for some bait.  He easily found a dozen or so worms under some old boards out in the barnyard, got his fishing pole from the shed and returned to the creek where he made himself a nest in the thick grass at the bank, baited the hook and dropped it into the water.   That day he caught a couple of sunfish, a bluegill, 3 small catfish, and some 6 or 8 inch chubs.  He released them all back into the creek.  He wondered if he had ever hooked any of them before. 

Today that boy (me) is more than 70 years old but occasionally he feels as if  he is still recovering from his childhood.  "What the hell?" you say, and if you know me you would be right to feel surprised by my statement.  My childhood wasn't tragic, I wasn't abused, didn't go hungry, had a warm bed every night of my life, had friends and a 320 acre farm including a creek and woods to play in.   There were fish, frogs and turtles to be caught, hay mows to climb in and bikes to ride.  I just wish my relationship with dad had been closer.  There are times when I still get a nagging feeling that I disappointed him.  I understand that might just be stuff in my brain and not having any relationship to the truth.  

 

 

Many of us, or maybe it would be more accurate to say "most of us" have dozens, or hundreds of photographs of family members that we treasure.  If we are lucky we could have photographs of 5 or 6 or even 7 generations all carefully and lovingly organized into scrapbooks, photo albums, or stored in boxes, file folders or maybe framed and hanging on the living room wall.   They are pictures of ourselves, our siblings, parents, children, grandchildren, grandparents, great grandparents, cousins, and other relatives and friends.  In total that big collection of photographs make up the visual history of ourselves and our families.  

Would you be willing to gather up your family photographs, pile them in the back yard, douse them with gasoline and strike a match to the pile?  Of course not,  but many of us are blindly setting into motion that very ending of those cherished pieces of our history.  A lot of us will go to great lengths to make sure that such family treasures get passed along to those who will appreciate them but let me describe one oversight that too many of us, and our grandparents have made that makes it much less likely that those treasures will survive into the future.  

The one thing that will doom the preservation of those photographs by those who follow us is the lack of identification on them.  Just that simple.   Document the faces or those faces will become lost to history sooner than you ever thought.