Guess the BART Stop

“They're called stereo-types for a reason,” I was scolded.  “Yeah, because they’re often true,” I muttered under my breath. “Because, they’re often not true,” she continued.  True or not, they make for some entertaining time-passing on public transit.

One of my favorite games on my way home from work is called “Guess the BART stop.”  People watching upped with a predictive element. Based pretty much solely on stereo-types, I guess at which BART station other passengers will off-board.  I’m correct more often than I’m wrong, but not nearly 100% accurate.

Red line coming out of San Francisco.

Some are pretty easy and obvious. Pink or green hair, odd piercings, extremely flamboyant clothing; most certainly getting off the train at Downtown Berkeley.

Some are a little tougher for pegging the exact stop, but easy enough to narrow-done fairly well.  Mid-40s in professional clothing; if they didn’t get off at MacArthur to get into their car or switch to the Pittsburg/Bay Point line going out to the big house, big yard suburbs, they’ll most likely exit the train at North Berkeley, where they’ll get into their car and drive to their home in the hills.  Really ghetto-dressed people, often playing badly distorted music at top volume from their cell phones, who don’t exit the train at one of the Oakland stops are likely to stay on until Richmond. Though occasionally, some of the younger ones go to Downtown Berkeley.

Late 20s, early 30s hipsters in their skinny jeans and plaid shirts; it depends. If it’s commute time and they’ve got their terribly ironic and practical messenger bag with the seatbelt buckle tossed around their back, they’ll likely get off at Ashby, maybe a few stragglers at Downtown Berkeley. But if it’s later in the evening or it’s a train going the other direction, they’ll most likely exit at one of the downtown Oakland stops.

Red Line pre-San Francisco

The BART-leg of my commute home actually begins in Millbrae. But, I have not learned enough about the neighborhoods’ on the Peninsula and heading into the City to be able to play the game down there. All the people at that point just look the same to me.

Orange Line to Freemont

I can also sort of play on my way into work, when I take the orange line to Union City. However, since I board BART so near the end of the line (and so early in the morning), there aren’t really a lot of people to watch and guess about.  The main thing is to guess which people will transfer at MacArthur to the San Francisco bound train. It’s pretty much everyone other than me who is dressed nicely.

As I spend more time on BART, I get better at the game. But then, just when I’m starting to get too proud of myself and think I have everything figured out, a noisy phone-blasting kid gets off at North Berkeley, or someone with pink hair rides all the way to my stop.  “They’re called stereo-types for a reason,” because they can help you make a quick judgment when you need to but not necessarily a correct judgment.

Happy Anniversary Alfred and Nathy-Boo!

Today is Alfred and Nathy-Boo’s first anniversary. Since I didn’t post about their wedding a year ago, I figured this is a good occasion to do so.

The air was moist and warm, droplets of imagined rain clung to the ferns. Munchkinhead and I ducked under a banana tree leaf and giggled. Paradise. Nearly everywhere you turned there was lush green foliage or a burst of flowers. Hard to believe it was 40 and rainy outside. No, we weren’t in a jungle. Munchkinhead and I were just pretending we were in a jungle. Where we really were was the rehearsal for Alfred and Nathy-Boo’s wedding.

A truly exotic location, Des Moines, Iowa.

I’ve been to quite a number of weddings over the years and I have to say that this one was by far the best wedding I’ve attended.  It was well-organized, beautiful, economically, delightfully representative of the bride and groom, tons of fun and just over all amazing.  And I’m not just saying that because it was my sister’s.  Alfred knows I’d tell her if I thought she could have done better.
Alfred did pretty much all of the planning herself. The venue was delightful: the Des Moines Botanical Center.  A beautiful glass dome arcing high above succulent gardens with a small stream where colorful fish flipped their tales. Banana tree leaves and spindly flowers waved in the breezes created by people walking down the cobblestoned paths.  The moist, warm air inside hid any indication of the cold April gloom covering the outside world.  Why fill a church with expensive flowers when you can have the convenience of an indoor garden?

Alfred’s dress was, of course, absolutely beautiful.  A simple woman of logic and practicality, she is nothing of the diva that her two sisters are. Her dress showed this perfectly, classic, yet elegant, with just a touch of sparkle in the purple embroidered flowers at the bottom of the white satin.  Being as cold-blooded as the rest of her clan, she has had a matching bolero for the reception.
Her bridesmaids dresses also exemplified an important part of her nature, her consideration for others. Knowing that the fairer sex is prone to fluctuations in body size and shape, and having her bridesmaids coming from across the country, Alfred chose an adjustable option for the dresses. Purple satin corsets with matching long skirts.  Of course, Mommy made all the dresses, her own, the bridesmaids and Alfred’s.

Standing at the front of the garden with the other bridesmaids, I couldn’t help but tear up. Not only did Alfred look so beautiful and happy, but Daddy was tearing up next to her. How could anyone not get misty eyed seeing that?

The ceremony was short and sweet, presided over by the pastor from our home church in Milwaukee who came all the way to Iowa on Easter weekend just to marry Alfred and Nathy-Boo. And then the bride and groom walked together down the aisle to music from Star Wars. Geeks.

And then the real fun began, the reception. Every person had a gift to take home with them, lovely nameplates cross-stitched by the bride herself.  Alfred and Nathy-Boo also made all the centerpieces for the dinner tables, out of Legos! No one can tell me they’ve had better center pieces.  The small cake above the mountains of cupcakes was also Lego-themed, with a small corner of icing peeled back to revel bricks beneath  and a Lego bride and groom up top.
The cupcakes provided lots of amusement throughout the night as the cake part, and the fillings inside were quite delicious, but the frosting was a bit too much for anyone. Tables were covered with mounds of frosted peaks carefully removed from little cakes. Mugs overflowed with the pastel swirls, looking like fancy lattes.  One of our aunts had close to a dozen cupcakes and left a fine frosting display around her table place.

Alfred and Nathy-Boo’s music was perfect. All their favorites. I don’t think the dance floor was empty the entire night.  A ridiculous line formed across the middle for the “Time Warp”.  Munchkinhead and I waltzed to Metallica and danced with Daddy to the family theme song. Mommy and Daddy danced to their song. Alfred and I played air piano to “November Rain.” And we all polkaed.

It was a fabulous night. Wonderful to see so many family members and old friends and an absolute blessing to see Alfred and Nathy-Boo so happy. Congratulations on a fantastic wedding and on your anniversary!

Photo by Jill Brown

My Lake

[Originally written on my way to visit Alfred, November of last year.]

As we flew out over Lake Michigan, a tear slipped from the corner of my eye and slowly rolled down my cheek. I was so happy.  Though miles away, seeing the lake made me feel close to home, as if Mommy and Daddy were an arm’s length away. 

This lake, this wide shimmering body of blue, this lake is part of me.  Though it took the life of one of my friends and still holds the body of his wife, I bear it no ill will.  Theirs were not the first, nor last it has taken.  But it does not know. 

It ripples on, beats against the shores, rages on the breakwaters and laps onto the sands.  This lake that I have enjoyed from every side, climbing dunes in Indiana, sitting on the beach in Michigan, walking along the cliffs in Wisconsin and gazing at hungrily from a plane leaving Illinois. 

This lake that filled my marching band days with the smell of dead fish, that kept us ten degrees cooler than the next county over, that brought us extra snow, delightfully heavy snow perfect for snowmen and snow forts. 

This lake that gave me beautiful sunrises, the red ball reflecting below, yellow rays streaking out in all directions, a mirror of water and sky both purple at the edges, a glow of pink slowly lightening into a bright clear day.The lake that tumbles under my favorite bridge. 

How much of this lake have I drunk, swan, bathed in, played in! 

Yes, this lake is truly great.  It is my Great Lake.

Churning Churches

I want to go to the church I went to when I was 8, or the one I attended when I was 16.  But where do I find those churches in this crazy new-fangled world?

My church in El Cerrito took a little field trip up to a “new” kind of church in Sacramento.  It had all the eh-things about my church without any of the good things I like to balance it out.  Like the big non-denominational churches some friends attended in high school and college, this church was all about doing things a new way, with drum sets and solo singers and that sort of stuff.  Different, new, exciting, yadda, yadda, yadda.  “Church attendance is down, we have to do things different.”  “People are looking for something new.”  “Church has to be exciting.” Bah humbug.

I want organs and choirs in robes; acolytes with long wick holders, preachers draped with stoles, Bible passages read from a giant Bible on a pulpit, hymnals and people in their Sunday best.  I want my favorite hymns that I can only hear in church.  Not electric guitars and drum sets and one singer with a mic, not overheads and jeans, not songs I hear on the radio.

But somehow, for some reason, church can’t mean these things anymore; it has to mean the opposite.  And before you know it, there’s nothing special, nothing about church you can’t get anywhere else.  Before you know it, there’s no reason to go.

While the easy-going churches lighten up even more to fight dwindling attendance, the Catholic church up the road fills 5 services a week. 

Sometimes it’s not a need for less structure and more change, but a need for more structure and less change that we need. 

Adventures from Home: the Zoo

Way back when, now about 6 months ago, I was frolicking around Milwaukee with my delightful and adorable younger sisters.  We have a bit of a tradition amongst ourselves that whenever we are all home we go to a Milwaukee field trip or tourist destination.  Most often, since we are most often all home together around the Christmas holidays, we go to the Milwaukee Public Museum.  This time, however, we thought we’d take advantage of being home together in the middle of summer, and we head off to the Milwaukee County Zoo.

Like the museum, we’ve been going to the zoo pretty much our whole lives, on school field trips and random adventures with friends.  When I first started college at Carroll, the school had a day outing to the zoo where we could meet our future roommates.  Being long-familiar with the exhibits and offerings of the zoo, we all have our favorite spots.  My personal favorite is the petting zoo and, for some reason, the very steep valley that goes under the zoo-train tracks on one of the main walking paths.

At the museum, we like to imitate the exhibits.  We tried to do this at the zoo.  It did not work as well; the animals keep moving!

We found being the topiary, signs and statues a much easier task.

 

Since we don’t come to the zoo very often, we decided to have an extra special treat and take a ride on the zoo train!  We all remembered liking the zoo train.  We did not remember it being so small!  Even Munchkinhead’s knees were up to her chest.   We had excellent timing for as soon as we boarded the train, a light drizzle started.

Rain continued on and off the rest of the afternoon, culminating in a fierce thunderstorm that made us feel like we were in Jurassic Park, all the more so for the scary dinosaur topiary with beady yellow eyes.

Standing in the foyer of the conference room building watching the wind toss around heavy tree branches, lightening momentarily sending spooky shadows everywhere, we decided to make a run for it.  To the aviary building.  Our umbrellas protected us from things worse than rain.