November 14 – if I had someplace

if I had someplace
treehouse away from the world
I might just stay there

Where ever I have worked, I always go walk about and explore the building I am working in.

I have found my way onto rooftops, garages, basements and storage areas that had not been visited in years.

The skylight to the building was behind the parapet at the very top of building, about the red tiles

Often I would use these out of the way places to hide during the day.

For those moments when I needed a moment to myself.

At WZZM13 in Grand Rapids, there were restrooms off of what was then the main conference room.

These restrooms had a back door.

If you went through the back door, you were in a small room with a desk and a lit make up mirror.

All it needed was a star nailed on the door and it would have been a museum example of the ‘dressing room’ in every TV sitcom.

Two odd things about these rooms.

There were one floor away from the studio with no real clear path to the get there.

And, they were along the front building so one wall was a glass window looking out over the parking lot.

Not what you would expect in a ‘dressing room’.

As far as I know, at the time I was with WZZM13, they were never used.

I would sit in there and hide often.

My favorite hidden place though, was the attic of the Grand Rapids Public Library.

I worked at the GRPL before the remodeling that took place at the turn of the century when much of the main or Ryerson building was restored.

At the time, the Ryerson had been ‘modernized’ and there were odd doors, stairs, cupboards and closets everywhere.

One day I took the keys and went through a door and up a stairway to another door that opened to an almost vertical stairway ladder.

Something like you would see in a ship.

I went up the ladder and into a small room, about 12 x 12, that was dark except for the light that poured in from a doorway opposite from where I was standing.

The light was, for lack of a better word, thick.

It poured through this doorway which was a rough opening cut through a brick wall.

The light was almost solid somehow.

I walked across the dark room towards the light and went through the doorway.

I had found Oz.

The Ryerson had been built in 1904 and designed to be used WITHOUT electric light.

The center of the building was a three story open well or atrium beneath a leaded glass skylight.

Ryerson Building Atrium

I was in the attic.

When I walked through that doorway I was looking DOWN at the surface of atrium skylight.

This is the one photo I can find of the INTERIOR SKYLIGHT with it’s Beaux Arts tracery – I was on the other side of the skylight in the upper left of this photo

Above me was the roof of the building.

The roof was one massive skylight.

The quality of light in that room stays with me to this day.

It defies description.

You had to be there.

You had to experience it.

Somehow, the light, made you feel better or maybe, out of your skin.

The attic was silent.

The stillness was eerie.

It wasn’t a flat empty room, but a tangle of cables and piper and conduits going this way and that.

There was no ‘floor’ but the surface of the skylight.

The walls rose about 20 feet all around.

From the top of the walls was the peaked roof structure of iron girders that supported the thick glass of the skylight.

A rickety wooden cat walk was built over the skylight to the other side of the attic.

There was a wooden railing that ran along the catwalk and the railing had been covered with names.

Names of other library staff that had found this place away.

Aside from those names, there was no evidence that anyone had been up there for years.

Time didn’t stand still here.

Time stopped.

Time did not exist.

I need a place like that.

I need a place where time stops.

A place away.

If I find it, I might stay all day.

Do You Remember by Jack Johnson

Do you remember when we first met? I sure do
It was some time in early September
Though you were lazy about it, you made me wait around
I was so crazy about you I didn’t mind

So I was late for class, I locked my bike to yours
It wasn’t hard to find, you painted flowers on it
I guess that I was afraid that if you rolled away
You might not roll back my direction real soon

Well I was crazy about you then and now
The craziest thing of all is over ten years have gone by
And you’re still mine, we’re locked in time
Let’s Rewind

Do you remember when we first moved in together?
The piano took up the living room
You played me boogie-woogie I played you love songs
You’d say we’re playing house now you still say we are

We built our getaway up in a tree we found
We felt so far away but we were still in town

Now I remember watching that old tree burn down
I took a picture that I don’t like to look at

Well all these times they come and go
And alone don’t seem so long
Over ten years have gone by
We can’t rewind, we’re locked in time
But you’re still mine
Do you remember?

November 14 – always there for you

always there for you
it’s always, always faithful
a beacon of hope

A Waffle House

Adapted from Anthony Bourdain on a visit to a Waffle House.

Bourdain wrote, “It is indeed marvelous.
An irony free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts for everybody regardless of race, creed, color, or degree of inebriation is welcomed.
It’s warm yellow glow, a beacon of hope and salvation inviting the hungry, the lost, the seriously hammered all across the south to come inside, a place of safety and nourishment.
It never closes.
It is always, always faithful, always there for you.
” (Parts Unknown – 2015)

On Sunday just past, at our place of worship, Cross Pointe Church in Duluth, Georgia, our Pastor, James Merritt, played this clip to start his sermon.

Pastor Merritt then asked, “Why can’t Church be like this?”

I like Waffle House.

I also agree with the advice, “but you got to find the good ones.”

Regardless, everything Bourdain says is true.

Come inside!

A place of safety.

Always, always faithful.

It never closes.

My daughter worked there for awhile.

Long enough for us to learn about the secret code of how the cook can identify everything on the menu by the arrangement of the packets of condiments and silver ware on an empty plate waiting on the counter.

Now my daughter says why go there for food you can make just as well as home.

It is not JUST the food is it?

From the goofy signs on the wall to the clatter of crockery.

Everything is beautiful.

Nothing hurts.

Everybody regardless of race, creed, color, or degree of inebriation is welcomed.

It is a church of sorts.

A community.

A beacon of hope.

Not just Church, why can’t the world be more like Waffle House?

November 13 – moonlit morning drive

moonlit morning drive
full moon over Atlanta
pretty, still so wrong

Dr. Samuel Johnson famously said about the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, that it was, “Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see.” (The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. (1791) by James Boswell)

A full moon was shining this morning in the clear cold, VERY COLD, dark of this November morning when I left for work.

I headed west towards the moon as it sank lower towards the horizon and the sky slowly changed from black to gray to blue.

With Atlanta and its buildings in view, the moon hung over the city with a complete spectrum of morning hues across the dome of the sky.

It was stunning.

Incredibly simple.

It happens every day as the globe spins and the skies revolve over head.

Still, I felt lucky to see it.

I felt even luckier that I got to see it while remaining comfortably warm in my car.

Never the less, on the whole, all things considered, I would rather have been in bed.

There is something wrong about getting up at 5AM.

November 12 – once in a lifetime

once in a lifetime
wave of justice can rise up
hope and history rhyme

Inspired by the excerpt below from The Cure at Troy by Seamus Heaney.

Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker’s father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.

History says, don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracle
And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.

The Cure at Troy: A Version of Sophocles’ Philoctetes is a verse adaptation by Seamus Heaney of Sophocles’ play Philoctetes. It was first published in 1991. The story comes from one of the myths relating to the Trojan War. It is dedicated in memory of poet and translator Robert Fitzgerald. (wikipedia)

November 11 – soldiers, citizens

soldiers, citizens
death’s grey land, dream of going
to work on the train.

32nd Division soldiers prepare for the Battle of Juvigny on Aug. 29, 1918

Soldiers are citizens of death’s grey land,
Drawing no dividend from time’s to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.

Dreamers – 1918, by Siegfried Sassoon published in Counter-Attack and Other Poems, EP Dutton, New York, NY

My Great Uncle, Peter DeYoung, wounded in action fighting with the 32nd Division at the Battle of Juvigny on Aug. 29, 1918