Don't be a lookyloo...

I should tell y'all about Sunday's trip to NYC with Meera and Ross, but first you should read Meera's post because she gives you the general outline.

And yes, I saw Danny DeVito and Rhea Pearlman. At first, I wasn't sure. We were crossing a busy, tourist-clogged Manhattan street and I couldn't stop and stare. I did crane my neck and slow down a bit, and said, "Whoa... that was Danny DeVito." As soon as I said it I was more sure and less sure. Then some guy came walking along beside us and I heard him tell his friend, "Did you see that? Danny DeVito!" Always nice to know you're not crazy. (At that moment I wasn't crazy, anyway.)

But no worries, this stranger and I were not the only Lookyloos in New York City on this particular Sunday. Everyone in the whole wide world came to NYC to see The Gates. My reactions were similar to Meera's - it was hard to see anything with so many people in the way, but maybe I was supposed to be seeing them. The family who employs me went to NYC, too, last weekend and had much the same reaction. Actually, Miriam loved The Gates, as well as having that reaction.

I liked how they were set up like dominoes, rigid rectangles over the path that create a cubist version of a curve when bending with the path or swooping over a hill. There were huge breaks between them sometimes, though, and these bothered me. I wanted to imagine that the fabric, if a strong wind blew it horizontally, would touch the next gate in a light kiss and would act like a temporary canopy for the paths. In most places that seemed possible, but then there would be an isolated gate, too far from its fellows to join in their little party.

After walking a fair bit (20 blocks plus 20 blocks plus...), we had ourselves a little rest in a circular park surrounding a statue of Christopher Columbus. Short wrought-iron gates kept a grove of beautiful bare trees at bay, the kind that twist and spiral a bit as they grow toward the sun, and may just be more beautiful in winter. We were all pretty tired, and I didn't even notice my eyes blurring until I noticed the colors around me as a new entity. There weren't too many gates nearby, but those we could see formed an orange strata hovering over the heads of the many, many people, their blue jeans a hazy strata below, the silvery bare branches wisping away above. All of it moving, the blue like a stream - started, slowing, rushing, melting around obstructions. The orange pulsing with the breezes, unrelated to the blue. The gray branches twitching slightly in the wind, but mostly only symbolizing movement with their shapes.

So yes, it was beautiful. And worth the 8-hour round trip on a crowded bus.

But the trip was a success, for me, because of its spontaneity. I feel old sometimes, and hate the fact that I abuse Boston with underuse. I feel a little stuck in the smallness of my life and miss the JoBiv who would gladly follow you if you suggested a romp in the Great Beyond. Just let me put on my shoes, I would say, and follow follow follow. These days I've grown hesitant, clinging to the safety of my known world, and I hate to love that safety. In other words, I was ready for an adventure and I got one.