When I saw this show in New York, it was one of the most jaw-dropping spectacles I had ever seen. Naturally, when the show traveled to Miami, I had to experience it again. Enjoy some stills and video from my point of view. And, yes, that pool is suspended above the audience.
An astonishing and unexpected change has occurred within me. I have become patriotic. I’d always been wary of wholesale patriotism. It felt slightly embarrassing. Crowds of Americans chanting “USA! USA!” at sporting events made me vaguely uneasy (ok, that probably hasn’t changed). Please understand – I did not consider all patriotism unwarranted. Those individuals who sacrifice of themselves for our nation are right to feel proud, as are those, like my maternal grandparents, who chose freedom deliberately at great personal risk and cost. But apart from casting my ballot faithfully, what have I done to deserve that particular brand of pride we call patriotism? Let’s face it: the fact that I am an American is simply an (exquisitely fortunate) accident of birth. I guess you could say that I thought of my American-ness as a personal attribute much like my curly hair; something I appreciate but didn’t fight for or choose, and as such, an insufficient thing over which to make a tremendous fuss.
And then I watched a new chapter of history being written before my eyes. I saw something that many of us hoped, but feared, would never happen. America elected Barack Obama. In huge numbers. Fair and square. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude, not just because my candidate had prevailed or because a racial barrier had fallen, but also because the victory was decisive. After the traumatic push-me-pull-you of the 2000 election, anything less might have ripped a gaping wound in the fabric of our society. I felt grateful that an engaged electorate had participated vigorously in democracy. And I felt proud.
On Tuesday, I watched the inauguration coverage on a big screen amongst other students. One of the announcers made reference to a peaceful transfer of power. As I watched the four former presidents take their seats I considered the concept of a peaceful transfer of power. And then I thought of the millions of people in nations around the world who must be mystified and bewildered by our ceremony. “These men simply walked away from power? Without a fight? Surely not!”
We live in a world where so many are governed by despots who cling to power at any cost. Where a change in government is always accompanied by upheaval, violence, and frightful instability. As Americans, it is easy to take this aspect of our democracy for granted. After all, democracy has taken hold in other nations. We are not unique in this respect. But suddenly, I did not take the peaceful transfer of power for granted. A rather sizable minority voted for the other guy, but those folks didn’t riot in the streets. Some Americans may be accepting new leadership grudgingly, but accept it, they have. As I mulled this over, tears streaming down my cheeks, I was struck by the magnitude of our collective achievement. And in that moment, I became patriotic.
Now, more than anything, I have hope. Sometimes I have reservations because the challenges our President must face are so profound and the expectations of him are so high. How can this man, no matter how talented, intelligent, thoughtful, dignified, or principled tackle our troubles while living up to superhuman standards? Still, President Obama inspires in me a hope that resists being extinguished. He inspired a nation to reject decision-making based on fear and to embrace, instead, the simple but powerful idea that “YES WE CAN.” I could have conceived of the idea that I might one day see the election of an African-American to the nation’s highest office. But after years of nursing a deeply ingrained political cynicism, I never dared to dream that in my lifetime I would be able to shed that cynicism and unabashedly proclaim beaming pride in my President. Never before have I felt this way about a leader. I didn’t think it was possible.
President Obama has spent only one working day in office, but already he has begun to live up to the ideals that he laid forth and with which he won my heart. An ethics class for his staff? Glory! Hail to the chief, indeed.
Not long ago we took the boat out in the late afternoon just as some rain clouds began to roll in. This is the view over Fisher Island out to the ocean.
We made time to go to Jimbo's for some smoked fish. It's hidden among the mangroves:
We passed by the Port of Miami. The cranes are simply tremendous; the container ships utterly massive.
To get a sense of scale, look at this picture of the bumpers. Those are not car tires, but truck tires. They are barely visible in the photos above.
Looking behind us we could see the clouds rolling in over downtown Miami, but with the sun bursting out the top.
During my recent trip to New York, Emily and I visited an art installation called Playing the Building by former Talking Heads frontman David Byrne and Creative Time. It is located in the Battery Maritime Building in lower Manhattan, next door to the Staten Island Ferry. It has a rich history that you can read about here. It's a gorgeous building that has stood empty for quite some time. As you can see, the exterior has undergone renovation. The interior will get an overhaul once the installation is done at the end of August.
Here's a view of the building from the water.
Because of the condition of the building, you have to sign a waiver before entering. I really enjoyed getting a chance to see the interior in this way. We live in a world where new=good. But this space was beautifully decrepit. I was taken with the details of its decay.
The installation itself originated in Stockholm before making its way to New York. A small, antique church organ is connected via wires, tubes, and other engineering voodoo to various parts of the building. In front of the organ, painted on the floor, is this invitation:
When you press one of the keys it might rattle the radiator. Another blows air past a heating pipe creating an ersatz flute. A third raps on a metal column. It's strange to describe because it is so deceptively simple. When you play the organ, you are literally playing the building. I was raised on a steady diet of Talking Heads music, so I already had great respect for David Byrne. My hat's off to him for coming up with something so clever and wonderful.
The space itself is a masterpiece. Having the lower portion painted in white provided a wonderful juxtaposition of clean openness with neglect and decay.
The weather was beautiful the day that Emily and I visited. The early afternoon light poured through the massive skylight, making stunning patterns on the floor and walls.
At that hour on a Friday, we didn't have to wait long to try the organ for ourselves. Here's virtuoso, Emily:
No matter what words I use, they will be inadquate to describe the experience. If you are in New York, I urge you to check it out yourself (Fri, Sat, Sun. 12-6pm). Short of that, you can check out this movie. Thanks to Emily for her camera work:
In the middle of June, I went for a long weekend to New York City. As always, the city provided something entertaining to see:
The actual reason for the trip was to attend the wedding of Jenny and David. Jenny and I are friends from nursing school. I got to see other classmates at the wedding. It was a lovely garden ceremony. In this photo, Jenny's sister is reading a piece of poetry. What I love about it is the look David and Jenny are exchanging. You can tell they really *get* each other. Isn't that what marriage is about?
The reception was great fun, with lots of dancing. Everyone agreed that Jenny was the World's Most Entertaining Bride.
