Knowing it's there

I know some very dear people who have some very dark clouds in their lives right now.

For some, it's been stormy all day. For others, a perfectly blue-sky day turned into a dark, dismal storm without much warning.

I took this picture just a few weeks ago just a mile or so from my home.

It tells me that even when there are dark clouds -- really dark, threatening, dismal clouds -- there is sunshine just behind them.

And whether that sunshine comes out now or tomorrow. Whether the sunshine comes to you or you go to it, whether you have to wait or whether you are surprised when the sky suddenly opens up, it will bring you warmth. And beauty. And peace.

Just know it's there.

NY's finest

We got to see New York's finest in action when we visited last month. First, the men of the NYFD when they showed up at our daughter's apartment building to check out the smell of gas.

They made quick work of the problem -- a stove left on in a main floor apartment, and after watching me watch them run in and out with their picks and shovels while my husband and daughter ran up and down with boxes and suitcases, one was so observant as to figure out what I was thinking.

"Your daughter will be fine," he said reassuringly.

Second, the men of the NYPD, as they blocked all passage from anywhere too near the UN during a summit of 20 nations that included an appearance and remarks from the President of our very own nation. The police very effectively, though politely, kept us riffraff away from the limosines with the motorcycle escort and guest vehicles and ambulance as it hustled into the UN complex.

Effective and polite are the words that come to mind in both cases.

Thanks guys.

Where in the world?

The fun thing about these pictures is that they were not taken in Europe. They were taken in a city settled by Europeans, however, and you can tell. It is a great heritage and it is great to have benefited from their architectural and cultural traditions as we've developed our own.

Any guessses on where these sights were seen?

The ice cream man

One of the absolute delights of working as a newspaper reporter, is the chance to meet people from all walks of life with all kinds of stories to tell:

The teacher who just graduated and got a job teaching first grade at the school where she went to first grade, with her first-grade teacher just down the hall.

The farmer who turned his farm over for a conservation easement and opens his corn rows and turkey pens up to schools so city kids can see where their food comes from.

The young man who wanted to be on the city council since he was seven and earned the spot over more experienced competition and works 26 hours a week to help his city.

The woman who turned a pile of rubble at the end of a parking lot in her apartment complex into a garden with the help of kids in the complex (and then got evicted -- but that's another story).

But today I want to tell you about Gordon Christensen.

I first met Gordon when I sat next to him at a Veterans' Day event last November. First he handed me a poem typed on blue paper and cut with serated edges that said something like, "it isn't the journalist who gives you freedom of speech, it's the soldier..." I thought to myself, he doesn't know I'm a journalist.

But that wouldn't have mattered.

Then he gave me a clothespin with a tiny washer glued on it and told me it was a washer and dryer. Then he told me about the ice cream social he does every year to celebrate the creation of the ice cream cone and how it started in his yard but now is a city-wide event. And when he found out my daughter was born on the same day as his ice cream social, he gave me an envelope filled with poems and stories and a $2 bill and told me to give it to my daughter. Then he gave me a quarter with something of significance stuck on it, which sad to say I've both lost and forgotten. (I tried once to throw away the washer and dryer thinking I would never see this man again, but while it was still in the garbage can I got assigned to do a story on a young man that turned out to be his son and since I had to call Gordon up for a couple color questions, I thought I'd better be able to report that I still had it -- so I pulled it back out. It's safe in my drawer again.)

The next time I saw the older gentleman -- a proud veteran -- was at a Memorial Day event, when he told me he liked the story I'd done about his son, but wished I'd included his daughter-in-law's maiden name in it so her family could get some credit too. And he reminded me about the ice cream social.

So I was thrilled to be assigned the ice cream social just last month, where I saw him in action -- seated on a chair off to the side of the event that now included live music and a car show, as well as his traditional free ice cream. Kids got their cones and then wandered over to where he told them about how cones started.

Here's Gordon in action:















When I talked to Gordon between readings, he pulled a copy of the story I'd written about his son out of his shirt pocket. He told me how he liked to show it to people, but he'd have liked it better if I'd included his daughter-in-law's maiden name. It was cut with serated edges.
And then he gave me a dime with a pin glued on to it. "It's a dime-and pin," he said, making it sound like "diamond pin."

I still have it.