Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Post #29: In Which I Meet My Expectations and Expound Philosophic

Today I realized I am heading towards Post #30. I would like to say I'm astonished to find I have so much to say, but that would be disingenuous. Because really I already knew that given a topic, any topic, I am perfectly able to talk for several minutes (if not hours) without pause. My mother was once asked while testifying in court "What makes you qualified to give your opinion on this case?" to which she replied without hesitation, "Well, I can give my opinion on anything." Exactly.

So today my almost-thirtieth post has inspired me to reflection. On what, you ask? Huh. Good question. Apparently on my not-so-surprising-after-all ability to reflect. And since that is a rather overwhelmingly vague topic even for me, I will instead reflect on the ever-changing face of reality that we call life. Or in other words, my kids.

Here's what I did on my own when I was six: Cross an eight-lane highway to visit the Walker Art Center.

Here's what my six-year-old does on her own: Go to the bathroom. Sometimes.

The world has changed so dramatically in the past 35 years. Today I wouldn't let a six-year-old walk two blocks by herself let alone wander around alone in a public museum for several hours. But wander I did, aimlessly drifting from gallery to gallery to see what I could see. Sometimes I would get lost in the museum but I always knew that when I saw this piece I had found my way again.

Frank Stella Protractor - Damascus Gate Stretch Variation 1968

Then I would amble down to the main entrance and wander on back home again.

Today I'm making an Early-New-Year-Almost-My-Thirtieth-Blog-Post Resolution: I will strive to make my kids' world as safe and full of color as my world was when I was six. Frank Stella and all.


  1. All hail the powers of art!!!

    Hey, didn't you live stumbling distance from the Walker later in life too?

    cheers and happy holidays,
    Big in Japan

  2. Oh gosh, when I was 6 we lived in St. Louis (a burb at least) and my sister & I ran the neighborhood with a gang of kids. I didn't see my folks from breakfast til lunch, then after lunch til dinner time. We went to the penny candy store, crossed the interstate (by running through the tunnel if it wasn't flooded) over to Six Flags of Mid-America for some lime sherbet and merry go round. I didn't let my kids out of the fenced back YARD until they were practically in Middle School. :D

    Times are definitely different.

  3. I know, it's a bit sad really. I had some friends from Mexico City and they were absolutely gob-smacked at how SAFE it was here and how they could allow their four-year-old to play in his own backyard without someone watching his every move. Ack! I feel like we're now living they way they used to in Mexico City, with armed gaurds and clutching their child's hand for dear life every time they stepped out the door.

    And Big, I did live across the street from the Walker for a year and then down the street for several more! I have some sort of weird Walker Art Center gravity well or something.


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