I woke up early, finished my book–so good–and then it was time to lug Brompty down the stairs to ride to the Jackson & Lee monument over by the BMA for a historical tour of Baltimore monuments. They’re there on horseback, and etched at the base is this: “They Were Great Generals amd Christian Soldiers and Waged War Like Gentlemen.” Then we weaved in ways I never would to get down to the Battle Monument on Calvert and Lexington, the first public memorial to a war, but not the last. Continue reading
The weather report said it might rain, and a glance at the sky assured me that it would, so of course I put on a skirt and a light jacket and headed out for a long bike ride to campus–oh, the curse of aspirational dressing! I was cold all day. Regardless, it just felt good to be on my bike after three days off due to what I’ve decided was a pollen-induced multi-day headache. I zoomed down the hill and then took my right through Bolton Hill and Marble Hill over toward Upton. Continue reading
I was out with S. last night, and she suggested we get up early for a few laps around the reservoir at Druid Hill Park, her running, me on my bike. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when I woke up all warm in my bed surrounded by cats, well, it seemed like a better idea might be to enjoy a vacation day in bed with coffee and books. But I said I’d be up for it, so I sent a text, sucked down some coffee, put on my wool layers, and headed out on the bike, and, as always, I was glad I did. Continue reading
It was another gray and rainy day and it was still sprinkling when I headed out on my bike for an errand or two. I pedaled Uptown to visit a video store–look it up–and then back downtown for a trip through the Ogden. I stopped at the intersection of Prytania and Camp to snap a picture of this statue of Margaret Haughery. It’s the first statue of a woman erected in the U.S., and it’s right there, and it took reading a book about Civil War memory for me to learn about her. Anyway. She was born in 1813, her parents died, she was adopted, those parents died,and she was all alone in the world. She worked hard, moved her way up some kind of ladder, and became a rich baker. She distributed free bread to the needy, gave away most of what she had to provide for the (white?) widows and children of New Orleans, and seems to have been generally incredibly generous and supportive of the community’s poor. Maybe we should trim some of those trees and remind people of some alternatives to the way the vast majority of those of us with economic privilege act now. I rode to the museum, watched that Benny Andrews video again. Art can do something special, for sure. It was a good ride.
I woke up early this morning and did a little reading for pleasure before taking the bike out to the Marigny for blueberry pancakes with V. and a quick tour of her place for my upcoming housesitting/squatting gig. It was bright and hot out, and the streets had that empty feeling they have on Sunday mornings when everybody who’d be up and out on a Sunday is in church and everybody else is still in bed. Continue reading
Ok, so for me, riding a bicycle is usually a solitary act. I don’t love riding with other people–I’m not good at pacing. I prefer heavily-trafficked routes to the side streets with their potholes, unlike most of my friends, for whom fear of the motor vehicle outweighs all else. And I’m a stickler about being a law-abiding cyclist, which means no, I do not want to ride the wrong way down that one way street (S., I’m looking at you). Continue reading
After retrieving my bicycle from last night’s hijinx, I groggily rode home and then to an appointment. I was in no place to ride, honestly, but I have reached the point where it doesn’t even occur to me to take my car unless I’m making an airport run. Continue reading