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captainsblogI could go on at length about any of these, but I'll try to keep it to the point on all three, and will cut them all in case I don't. Pictures under the first and last; some better ones of the graduation from Eleanor to follow:
The date fell exactly 33 years after mine, which was outdoors on the football field behind my high school. Boring speeches, recognition of a select few students, a line for diplomas, and farewells, fond and not-so-fond, to 675 other people who'd gone through those years with me.
Hers, inside the main auditorium at UB's Center for the Arts. Boring speeches, recognition of a select few students (she being one of them, getting one-of-a-kind mention in both the program and from the podium for her piece going into the permanent art collection), a line for diplomas, and farewells, fond and not, to a somewhat smaller class who'd accompanied her. I know there was some sadness on her part, because she still hasn't reconciled with one of her closest friends from recent years who was also on the stage, in the slide show (as was Em- many times, including one in the prom dress) and no doubt still in her heart and head making them both ache. Hopefully, time and distance will do their acts and bring them back at least to a non-hurting point at some point.
The keynote speaker was our esteemed state senator, who did everything to make his speech a piece of Republican rhetoric except pass out absentee ballots to them with his name pre-checked. At one point, he wisely advised the class to make good decisions like the better businesses of this world do:
Be like Exxon Mobil, not like BP.
Good call, Mikey. Not only is your party going to force you to apologize to Tony Hayward for that remark, you also don't have much of a memory of bad choices made by Exxon within these 18-year-olds' lifetimes. Mine, at least, knew what company ran the Valdez into the shore.
A few photos to hold you until Eleanor downloads from the real camera:
Our view from the cheap seats. We did get to see the pit orchestra; it was Eleanor's brother who noticed that it had a net over it, Whether that was to protect them from flying caps or more direct protests, we never did learn.
----
Right after it ended, Em got hauled off by two of the girls in this picture for group photos. Notice that she was the one smart enough to ditch the gown at the first possible moment.
----
More here, or somewhere, when I get them.
----
(2) Saturday night- "The Big Bang"
(And by that I don't mean the, um, climactic Moonlighting episode that was unofficially titled that after the censors rejected it as the official aired episide name.)
A nice end to a more-than-occasionally bumpy ride, here in my first year skitching on the rear bumper of the TARDIS. As I commented somewhere, it was nice, and refreshing, that they ditched the scorecard full of villains and one-shot historical characters who had overwhelmed me last week, in favor of having Just One Hero, Just Two Supporting Heroes (three if you count River, and my jury's still out on what she is), and Just One Villain (which, face it, had to be a Dalek if you were only going to have one; argue with me in comments about why). The script actually made a plausible case for thinning the herd so dramatically and getting it down to that few principal players, and it worked for me. Not much backstory was required, although I'm sure it helped play it on another level, especially River's ominous threats at the very end about what lies ahead, but for me, it was just seeing love and friendship in action. The Boy Who Waited finally got the Girl Who Waited, they got their storybook wedding, and made the only choice there was to make at the end (especially with Amy under contract for Season Six). Pete was absolutely right about Amelia's importance, and I hope they find ways to flash back to her despite her no longer being necessary to the arc.
If I've got any of this all wrong, I'm sure I'll hear.
----
(3) Sunday morning- Preach it, brotha!
This is a small church here. There were perhaps 20 to 30 people there, including Rob the organist, Rob the liturgist, and a side room full of church ladies doing what Methodist church ladies are always doing- preparing food. The blessing of such a size is you get to meet your audience. All of it. During the passing of the peace (or as their bulletin literally called it, the "meet and greet"), there was time to say hello to and introduce yourself to everyone, and Eleanor and I tried to do just that.
I added and subtracted slightly from the final draft I'd written. My first words had to be, "I'm not Barbara," because the bulletin still had our other regular lay speaker listed as the one doing the sermon. I also shortened, but did not cut completely, the Dogma and CSI references I'd planned to use. Nobody got them especially, but I don't think anyone was offended, either. For the record, I used explicit references from three of you in the text (don't worry, if you were one of them, you already know), and the stories and reactions from your lives and mouths and hearts were just as important as the ones from mine. It was well received, and since this church didn't do a childrens sermon or communion, we were out of there pretty quickly.
Some pics of and in the church:
The main, columned entrance on Ontario Street. This is in the Riverside section of the city of Buffalo, which is somewhere between struggling and decaying on the urban devolutionary scale. It was historically very reliant on heavy industry, which has all but abandoned the area, and yet it hangs on. Places like this become all the more important to stem the tide; you can see the symbolism of that importance when you see its anchoring corner in the heart of the neighborhood (Riverside and Tonawanda Streets). The other three corners have given up: Rent-a-Center and Aaron's (another ripoff-to-own joint) occupy the corners on the other side of Tonawanda Street, while the one facing us on the other side of Ontario is an abandoned seller of suits and other finer mens clothing, which held on for years before neighborhood decay and Casual Fridays finally forced it out to the burbs.
----
One of the gorgeous stained-glass windows in the building; I took this soon after we got there, and we did get more of a congregation arriving, although this gentleman did come in first in my unofficial Uncle Junior Soprano lookalike contest.
----
A bigger and better view of the window in the back of the sanctuary. Those side panels are virtually identical to the ones in our own suburban sanctuary, which probably date to the same late 1800s era.
----
I love three things in this shot (four, if you count me being finished speaking from the pulpit in the middle of it): the dove atop the proscenium arch, the gorgeous organ pipes, and the drum kit in front of them. They didn't use the drums (I suspect they're for a Pentacostal-type group that uses the sanctuary for Sunday evening services), but the organ still works and positively sings. Rob the Organist looked like he was having a rip-roaring good time playing the old-timey hymns on this console of living musical history; I told Eleanor I could so picture him gigging on keyboards at a rock club the night before, then coming in and doing this Sunday mornings, because that's what people here of all faiths do, in one way or another.
I got several compliments, we were invited to the pot-luck dinner (sorry, but I needed to get out of that suit), and we're now just chilling until another ::koff:: regular week begins. Tomorrow I do all the insurance paperwork on the car for Emily, Tuesday we register and acquire it, and then we'll see just how busy this last week before the holiday will be.
The date fell exactly 33 years after mine, which was outdoors on the football field behind my high school. Boring speeches, recognition of a select few students, a line for diplomas, and farewells, fond and not-so-fond, to 675 other people who'd gone through those years with me.
Hers, inside the main auditorium at UB's Center for the Arts. Boring speeches, recognition of a select few students (she being one of them, getting one-of-a-kind mention in both the program and from the podium for her piece going into the permanent art collection), a line for diplomas, and farewells, fond and not, to a somewhat smaller class who'd accompanied her. I know there was some sadness on her part, because she still hasn't reconciled with one of her closest friends from recent years who was also on the stage, in the slide show (as was Em- many times, including one in the prom dress) and no doubt still in her heart and head making them both ache. Hopefully, time and distance will do their acts and bring them back at least to a non-hurting point at some point.
The keynote speaker was our esteemed state senator, who did everything to make his speech a piece of Republican rhetoric except pass out absentee ballots to them with his name pre-checked. At one point, he wisely advised the class to make good decisions like the better businesses of this world do:
Be like Exxon Mobil, not like BP.
Good call, Mikey. Not only is your party going to force you to apologize to Tony Hayward for that remark, you also don't have much of a memory of bad choices made by Exxon within these 18-year-olds' lifetimes. Mine, at least, knew what company ran the Valdez into the shore.
A few photos to hold you until Eleanor downloads from the real camera:
Our view from the cheap seats. We did get to see the pit orchestra; it was Eleanor's brother who noticed that it had a net over it, Whether that was to protect them from flying caps or more direct protests, we never did learn.
----
Right after it ended, Em got hauled off by two of the girls in this picture for group photos. Notice that she was the one smart enough to ditch the gown at the first possible moment.
----
More here, or somewhere, when I get them.
----
(2) Saturday night- "The Big Bang"
(And by that I don't mean the, um, climactic Moonlighting episode that was unofficially titled that after the censors rejected it as the official aired episide name.)
A nice end to a more-than-occasionally bumpy ride, here in my first year skitching on the rear bumper of the TARDIS. As I commented somewhere, it was nice, and refreshing, that they ditched the scorecard full of villains and one-shot historical characters who had overwhelmed me last week, in favor of having Just One Hero, Just Two Supporting Heroes (three if you count River, and my jury's still out on what she is), and Just One Villain (which, face it, had to be a Dalek if you were only going to have one; argue with me in comments about why). The script actually made a plausible case for thinning the herd so dramatically and getting it down to that few principal players, and it worked for me. Not much backstory was required, although I'm sure it helped play it on another level, especially River's ominous threats at the very end about what lies ahead, but for me, it was just seeing love and friendship in action. The Boy Who Waited finally got the Girl Who Waited, they got their storybook wedding, and made the only choice there was to make at the end (especially with Amy under contract for Season Six). Pete was absolutely right about Amelia's importance, and I hope they find ways to flash back to her despite her no longer being necessary to the arc.
If I've got any of this all wrong, I'm sure I'll hear.
----
(3) Sunday morning- Preach it, brotha!
This is a small church here. There were perhaps 20 to 30 people there, including Rob the organist, Rob the liturgist, and a side room full of church ladies doing what Methodist church ladies are always doing- preparing food. The blessing of such a size is you get to meet your audience. All of it. During the passing of the peace (or as their bulletin literally called it, the "meet and greet"), there was time to say hello to and introduce yourself to everyone, and Eleanor and I tried to do just that.
I added and subtracted slightly from the final draft I'd written. My first words had to be, "I'm not Barbara," because the bulletin still had our other regular lay speaker listed as the one doing the sermon. I also shortened, but did not cut completely, the Dogma and CSI references I'd planned to use. Nobody got them especially, but I don't think anyone was offended, either. For the record, I used explicit references from three of you in the text (don't worry, if you were one of them, you already know), and the stories and reactions from your lives and mouths and hearts were just as important as the ones from mine. It was well received, and since this church didn't do a childrens sermon or communion, we were out of there pretty quickly.
Some pics of and in the church:
The main, columned entrance on Ontario Street. This is in the Riverside section of the city of Buffalo, which is somewhere between struggling and decaying on the urban devolutionary scale. It was historically very reliant on heavy industry, which has all but abandoned the area, and yet it hangs on. Places like this become all the more important to stem the tide; you can see the symbolism of that importance when you see its anchoring corner in the heart of the neighborhood (Riverside and Tonawanda Streets). The other three corners have given up: Rent-a-Center and Aaron's (another ripoff-to-own joint) occupy the corners on the other side of Tonawanda Street, while the one facing us on the other side of Ontario is an abandoned seller of suits and other finer mens clothing, which held on for years before neighborhood decay and Casual Fridays finally forced it out to the burbs.
----
One of the gorgeous stained-glass windows in the building; I took this soon after we got there, and we did get more of a congregation arriving, although this gentleman did come in first in my unofficial Uncle Junior Soprano lookalike contest.
----
A bigger and better view of the window in the back of the sanctuary. Those side panels are virtually identical to the ones in our own suburban sanctuary, which probably date to the same late 1800s era.
----
I love three things in this shot (four, if you count me being finished speaking from the pulpit in the middle of it): the dove atop the proscenium arch, the gorgeous organ pipes, and the drum kit in front of them. They didn't use the drums (I suspect they're for a Pentacostal-type group that uses the sanctuary for Sunday evening services), but the organ still works and positively sings. Rob the Organist looked like he was having a rip-roaring good time playing the old-timey hymns on this console of living musical history; I told Eleanor I could so picture him gigging on keyboards at a rock club the night before, then coming in and doing this Sunday mornings, because that's what people here of all faiths do, in one way or another.
I got several compliments, we were invited to the pot-luck dinner (sorry, but I needed to get out of that suit), and we're now just chilling until another ::koff:: regular week begins. Tomorrow I do all the insurance paperwork on the car for Emily, Tuesday we register and acquire it, and then we'll see just how busy this last week before the holiday will be.
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-28 12:05 am (UTC)