Working late

Although I’ve completed my formal teaching in the Summer Program in American Law (for foreign attorneys), I am not done with the Program in its entirety. For instance, tonight we had a meeting to go over the finer details of the separation of ‘powers.’ It was clear that the issue of gender was uppermost in the minds of men, women, and children. I am still worn from my marathon teaching. I strayed from the crux of the discussion in order to keep company with those who had a strong concern with what food was in the offering.

A snapshot from an evening of hard work:

a contemplative moment 

...pursuing happiness 

the one who will ultimately change the world 

The crazy lady was right -- sort of.

The other day I described getting lost in the neighborhood  just behind Perkins on University Ave. I’m sure everyone thought I’d given myself poetic license when I described the directions given by one seemingly loony resident: “find the tunnel that leads from University Ave. to Old Middleton Road,” she said. Ridiculous? Not at all!  
 
Today I went back to the scene of the near tragedy (dehydration, overheating, foul mood leading to who knows what level of violent behavior) and I found it!  
 
True, one cannot say that it stretches from Old Middleton all the way to University. And, the inside of it is hideous: it has a massive amount of broken glass, as well as a dampness to it, reminding you that you are in an unhealthy environment. Thankfully no one was selling drugs there during my explorations, but I think that’s because I hit the post-lunch sleepy hour.

a creepy way to get to Old Middleton Rd 

A message from a bleak and barren solarium

On days like this, I wish I were living at some future time period (say the year 2036), when we’ll all have had our fill of ‘natural’ and are ready to accept this basic truth: natural can be a nightmare.

I struggle with plants, outside and in, because the insect and beast is mightier than the Nina. Outside, all is ravaged by animals, inside, the sickening white flies are again attacking my passion flower and are greedily eyeing the rest. Since I live in 2004, I have to fight such avarice with concoctions that will eventually make botanists reel with laughter: natural soaps, fox urine, egg whites mixed with cayenne – I mean, come on, do people have success with any of this?

I’m about to walk my sticky plant outdoors, not because it’s dead already, but because I can’t stand to watch the vultures fly off the leaves, leaving sappy residue behind and mocking me and my natural remedies all the while.

My study is losing its greenery: it’s becoming naturally bare, naturally ugly in its purity and wholesomeness. I know, I know, I am protecting the environment. I‘m only saying that if we are about to revert again to synthetics and chemicals, let’s do it NOW, so that I can enjoy again the splendid things nature has to offer and not lose them all to species that Darwin may have scorned and labeled inferior, but I myself find tougher than the wimpy human being (me) who can’t deal with a dumb rabbit or a stupid fly.

After the tempest, a musical evening

It’s hard to explain the Concerts on the Square to a non-Madisonian. The basics are simple enough: a weekly summer outdoor event for which thousands gather; a concert, a bring-your-own-picnic, a spread-blanket-on-the-grass and sit-in-comfy-beach-chair-that’s-no-more-than-six-inches-off-the-ground (that’s a rule) event. There, it’s starting to get complicated. Bullet time!

• You have to know that to get anywhere within viewing distance of the “stage” (really, the SE entrance of the Capitol), you must put your blanket down at 3 p.m. to claim a spot. Not earlier (that’s a rule), not later (others will fill the spaces). The concert starts at 7, but you don’t have to stay with your blanket (and chairs if you’ve brought those as well) because this is Madison and things remain where you leave them.

• If it’s windy, your blanket will flutter away in your absence unless you weigh it down – but you can’t use stones (that’s a rule). Some years ago people (including me; hey, everyone was doing it!) looted stones from around the Capitol to weigh down blankets and after the show they would take their things and leave the stones behind (not guilty on this one) so that it looked like it had hailed boulders that evening.

• You can eat, read books, drink wine or beer, play cards or board games, do pretty much any quiet, low-to-the-ground activity, using the music as an excuse to be there. Listening to the music is an option (about 75% do listen), but not a requirement.

• The rules of concert going go out the door (no pun intended). People applaud after movements, or in fact before movements even finish (ey harriet? The dern thing finished yet? Sounds like it should be done. Clap clap clap).

And so on.

Tonight’s theme was “classical hits.” You would think that this would be boring to the thousands who gather (last week’s polka theme seemed more fitting for the carnival atmosphere), but no: the crowds will swell no matter what and for the most part, people listen.

The sun moves behind the Capitol dome in the course of the first hour and the concert ends in the pallor of early dusk. You stretch your legs, chomp away at your edibles and feel at peace with the evening (or, if you’re like me, you get a tad weepy at the first strains of the Tchaikovsky First Piano Concerto; it’s so beautiful, and it’s been a long day; one can get emotional like that and no one will notice).


looking up from the blanket 


napping is also an option 


intermission