Remodelling the Basement

Our basement was a functional, utilitarian space.  It had long ago lost what little novelty or newness it had.  The years had not been good to it.  We had not been good to it.  The decor was dated and dark.  As my love for it waned, so, too, the frequency with which I cleaned it.  That I couldn't find any pictures of the basement prior to starting the remodelling is only testimony to just how little regard I gave to this space. 

I didn't think to start taking pictures of the remodelling process at first.  The demolition was messy but gave little vision of what was to come.  Only after the wood panelling was repaced by drywall could I begin to see that yes, indeed, the basement could be brighter and more welcoming.  Messy, still, yes, but with promise.



This corner once had a small closet.  It was busted out to make for a larger shower on the other side.

The empty space will hold a built in ironing board.

This is the hallway that leads upstairs.

The bathroom entry.  A pedestal sink will be installed where the plumbing fixtures are.

This is the shower area, considerably larger than what was there before.

At this point the walls have received their first coat of paint.  The gray door will be replaced at some point.

Things are getting lighter.  The panel light has increased significantly how bright the room can be.  A work table will be located directly under this light.  The TV will probably still be in the corner where it has always been but possibly on the wall near the corner with the piano between the wall and the closet.  We have yet to decide.

The bathroom wall is gray but with a tinge of blue.  It blends nicely with the gray in the shower tiles.

The shower tiles.  There is a seat in one corner and two small shelves in the other.

Our plan is to not have a shower door.  We may, however, have to install a glass panel on the one side.  We won't decide until we've seen just how much water sprays into the rest of the bath.  I'm thinking it won't be a problem.

This is where the pedestal sink will be.  An oval mirror above with lighting above it.

The new tile floor is now in and the new ceiling tiles are starting to be put up.  The poles and the strip along the ceiling will be covered before all is said and done.  Notice the tiles on the bathroom wall.

The shower and bath.  What a difference!  Light/fan still needs to be installed, along with the toilet stool and sink but now more than ever, I can see what the final result will be.  Accessories will be black.  Towels will be red.

Very retro bath.  Fixtures will be brushed nickel.  One thing we have noticed is just how out of square things have been.  Amazing.

Well, there is a lot of work yet to be done in the next week.  Clearly the finishing details will add a lot to the overall look.  But we all know what will really make the space is how we decorate it once the shell is complete.  I'm looking forward to reclaiming the house to ourselves and taking my time buying the furniture, rugs, and other decorative elements that will turn this basement and bath into a well loved space.  The living we will do in it will make it home.

Truckers -- My Frienemies

Driving in America means sharing the road with truckers.  Big ones.  Tall ones.  Single trailer.  Double trailer.  Trucks and their drivers seem to own the road these days.  Before my solo road trip last spring, I confess truckers triggered only negative emotions in me.  Disgust, fear, and anger.  They hog the road.  They slosh you with whatever matter is on the road.  Ice, rain, mud, sand, salt.  When you pass them, you take your life into your hands, especially during snowy or rainy weather.  You'll be lucky to see where you're going as you speed to get around them.  Anything on the road lands on your windshield.  Pray you don't run out of windshield fluid!  The backwind alone can push a small car off course. 

Sometimes truckers gang up; they travel in groups making any enjoyment of the drive and its view near to impossible.   In their effort to manage their fuel and their time, they will pass giving insufficient prior notice rather than slow down, moving back and forth from the pass lane and back knowing full well that their size will intimidate any car into backing away.  This happens especially in hill country when trucks gather momentum going downhill or when hoping to maintain that into an uphill slope.   And the very worse of it all, too many times I've been behind a trucker who is clearly tired or drunk.  Probably tired.  The truck will edge off the highway, swerve to correct, only to edge over the center line making passing a gamble at best.  This makes for tense driving.  Following such a driver frustrates me.  I worry about him or her.  I worry about others on the road.  Passing under those circumstances is risky but the only way to relieve my tension.  Even then, I feel like I should do something.  Honk, flash my lights, report them, something.  When I see the aftermath of an accident in my travels, too often a truck was involved.  Disgust, fear, and anger.  Truckers are my enemy.

Then last spring I travelled the highways and byways of our country between here and Montana and back.  Three weeks on the road swayed my thinking a bit.  There were times when the only ones on the road were myself and truckers.  As a lone traveller, I was glad for the company.  The wide open spaces are wonderful but when they are filled with turbulent winds and driving rain, it was comforting to know I wasn't on the road alone.  As I realized the great distance and often times isolated two-lane, roads between inhabited spaces, be they isolated homes or small towns, I recognized the service truckers offered.  Need for the produce and products these trucks contained was in a way greater for them than for those of us who live in abundantly stocked cities.  I began to recognize just how dependent they (we) are on truckers.  Not for their food but for other items that ease daily life -- detergent, CDs, appliances, health and beauty aids.  You name it.  If it can't be grown, it probably has to be trucked in.  When I learned that the some of the highways into Yellowstone where closed due to snow and had that realization emphasized by the signs and gates indicating that even the interstate I was using closed occasionally in the dead of winter when the snow is heavy and blowing, I began to think about the trials and tribulations of a trucker's life on the road.  Even when I worked, if the weather was severe, school was closed and I stayed home.  No such situation with truckers.  That postal greed -- neither rain nor snow nor dead of night...  Well, that kind of applies to truckers, too, doesn't it?  And Christmas Eve as we drove home from our wonderful dinner, it was clear to me that those in cars were like us, heading home but those in the trucks?  Well, it wasn't so clear.  Many, I'm sure, were heading to deliver whatever their trailers contained so consumers such as myself could shop the day after Christmas.  Got me to thinking a bit better of them.

I've also had occasion to see truckers as good Samaritans.  For instance, road work that results in a lane shutting down almost always creates a back-up of traffic.  Now in the ideal world, we'd all take our turns, wait patiently, move slowly, and keep traffic crawling along.  Creeping, yes, but at a constant creep.  Unfortunately, cutting in line isn't something that only happens in grade school.  In a traffic back-up there are always those who seem to think their need to reach their destination is more important than anyone else's and so they whiz by those of us who've already moved out of the lane that is closing.  These drivers then edge their way into our line ahead of us causing a stop-and-start movement rather than a steady flow.  More than once I've seen truckers move into the closing lane making it impossible for anyone to "cut in line".  I've seen them move to the head of lines of traffic to force us all to slow down when the situation calls for it.  And I've seen accidents that involved trucks, yes, but trucks that were there because they chose to go off the road rather than hit the car.  Darn, I appreciate that.

And then there was a recent incident.   We were coming home from Kansas.  We got as far as Gary, Indiana without a weather hold-up but there we ran into "lake effect" snow.  More like, "lake effect blizzard"!  The snow was coming down hard and fast.  The wind was blowing.  It was dark.  In what seemed just a matter of minutes, the three lanes of the highway had diasppeared under a blanket of white.  We couldn't see where the road began or ended much less where the lane lines were.  When we realized we might have been better to stop rather than risk an accident, we were far from an exit.  Our saviour was an unknown trucker.  He or she doggedly slogged forward into the snow and darkness and we meekly followed behind in the tracks.  I don't know how far or how long this went on but that trucker got us, and the dozens who were following behind us, safely through.  Truckers are my friends.

So I've come to realize it's really like most everything else.  Truckers aren't one or the other.  They're both.  They're my frienemies!

Giving Thanks in New Orleans

This is a very late tribute to what was a wonderful 2010 Thanksgiving. 

We stayed at the Royal Sonesta on Bourbon Street.

Our first stop for food, early upon our arrival, was the Acme Oyster House.  We loved the grilled oysters and made pigs of ourselves!  We liked it so much, we managed to return before the extended weekend was over.

I'm sorry to say that I missed this particular event.  The guys in our group stayed out later than the ladies and were rewarded for their tenacity when they heard strains of New Orleans jazz coming from the street.  They put down their drinks and joined the second line as they wended their way up Bourbon. 

During the early hours, the French Quarter is pretty empty.  Generally it was us and the street cleaners who were most gracious and welcoming.  They did a fine job removing the evidence of all debauchery from the night before.

One of our favorite stops, not directly on Bourbon Street, was Evelyn's Place.  It was quiet and full of history.  Frank, the 90+ owner, made a great host and regaled us with stories of the New Orleans of days gone by.

Things start to get more lively after dark.  This is still pretty early and a week night.  Since we were there during Thanksgiving and the Bayou Classic, the street you see above will soon be shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall people.  The morning following the Bayou Classic, we once again did our early morning stroll of Bourbon Street.  That morning the street cleaners had their work cut out for them!  And we saw a few hearty souls who must have partied the entire evening as they were still sipping their drinks as they wobbled their way back to their hotels.

One of my personal favorite spots, Preservation Hall, bona fide New Orleans jazz played with great skill and dexterity and zeal, a must stop for anyone visiting the city.

Some of the musicians we saw here were also members of the jazz group we heard at Snug Harbor, a much different but equally entertaining jazz establishment.

Another must stop for visitors to New Orleans, Cafe du Monde.  My advice is go early, find a seat where the wind can't reach you and be prepared to leave with a faint coating of powdered sugar on your clothing and skin.  The coffee and beignets are more than worth it and the people watching top notch.

The oldest restaurant in New Orleans, Tujague's, was our Thanksgiving dinner restaurant.  The meal was not the typical turkey and dressing we expected but was rather a southern version of the same.  It was good but I think we were all just a bit disappointed.

We took two tours while in New Orleans.  One took us around the city on a small bus, stopping at an above ground cemetery at one point.  We also saw the Ninth Ward and some of the aftermath of the Katrina.  I have been in New Orleans before Katrina a few times and one other time after.  That time, I stayed in the French Quarter and didn't venture out beyond the convention center.  Still I could tell the city was beaten down and tired.  On this trip, things seemed much better but taking this tour brought the reality home.  There is still much to be done beyond the Quarter and the city has a long way to go to be what it was pre-Katina.

The second tour we took was of the Garden District.  The day was wet and cool but we enjoyed seeing the mansions and hearing about the history.

An original mufaletta. 

The young men in the family recommended we head to the Abita Brewery for a tour and taste.  This is not the brewery now but it once was.  Now it's a great place to eat.

I wish I could say that we saw up close and personal the gators of this farm but we got there too late for the tour.  The picture is just a reminder of what could have been.

This is what I most love about New Orleans, the street entertainers.

This young lady remained motionless, a fanciful statue, until someone puts money in the basket.  At that time, she comes alive and blows that heck out of that horn.

Even the lightposts are tipsy!

The show at The Howling Wolf, one the older generation missed as we left before this.  The younger generation provided the picture and a reported a good time was had by all.

On Frenchman's Street. 

Also on Frenchman's Street.

Thanksgiving 2010 was a gratifying experience.  Next year we already know we are heading to Miami to enjoy sun and fun as we give thanks.

Weak Links

"Knowledge is a tool, and like all tools, its impact is in the hand of the user.”  The Lost Symbol, Dan Brown

I'm rereading THE LOST SYMBOL, not because I want to but because I needed something to read and picked up the book at the grocery store without checking it very closely.  Nothing about the cover or its blurbs were familiar upon my cursory examination but once I got home and turned to chapter one, I recognized the words and as I flipped quickly through the pages, the story came back to me.  Resigned, I settled in to reread and found elements of the story very relevant to this time, especially the quote above.

There's been a lot of talk about the tragedy in Tucson and what may have caused it.  Some think the toxic political rhetoric played a part.  Some think the lack of gun control or regulation played a part.  We'd all like to believe the madman who held the gun is solely responsible.  It would allow us to ignore our own role, no matter how remote, in creating the chain of events that led to this end.  Well, I believe the quote above is true.  The gun IS the tool.  The impact of that tool IS in the hand of the user.  There's really no argument there.  But I also believe in cause and effect chains.  As a principal, when a student was brought to me for some infraction, I always tried to get the whole story, not to somehow reassign responsibility and relieve the culprit of his or her guilt but because there is generally a beginning and the student in front of me is only the end.  Though not exclusively, more often than not there is a chain of events, any link of which with a different action on the part of various players could have created a different result.  Does that nullify the responsibility of the person in front of me?  No, not at all.  Does it make the persons along the chain equally responsible.  Not necessarily, though there is something to be said for intention or lack thereof when one is part of a chain of events.  There have been many times when the student caught and brought to me has been set up to take the fall.  The degree of responsibility lies with the degree of intent.   Is it important for those in the chain to understand the role they played in the event, intent or not?  Absolutely.  Did I expect each participant to learn something from this event and to change their future behavior should a similar opportunity present itself.  You betcha!  That I was no longer in the classroom did not relieve me of teaching duties.

So yes, the culprit at the end, most directly responsible for the ultimate wrongdoing, should be dealt with accordingly.  The tool --in this case, a gun --can not be good or evil.  The user is the one responsible for the impact of the gun's use.  But to ignore the other links in the chain is another kind of irresponsibility.  Allowing the unregulated manufacture of guns and ammunition clips with excessive capacity that can have no real sporting purpose and employing language that promotes violence in the minds of those most susceptible to such rhetoric assures that the same weak links remain weak and create another chain of events resulting in another tragic end. 

The Long Holiday Ends

The final installment of Christmas 2010 is over.  Like punctuation at the end of a sentence, this time with brother and sister-in-law, nieces, nephews, and their spouses brings to an end a very long holiday, but what kind of mark?  Not an exclamation point, I know.  That would take a full gathering of family with the opening of gifts, the sharing of raucous laughter, and the inevitable subtle tension that can result when all the Jackson personalities are gathered in one place.  Not a period.  Much too mundane, too boring.  Not at all appropriate for this holiday period.  There was nothing boring about our holiday.

Starting December 10th in Kansas City with Mark and Lindsey and some of Lindsey's family, we had a wonderful, warm time.  Our trip there and back was our gift to ourselves, stopping along the way, strolling the aisles of antique mall after antique mall, buying with abandon gifts for ourselves, a very satisfying treasure hunt assuring that every gift we gave ourselves was a valued one.  Our next event was Christmas Eve at the Dirty Dog Jazz Cafe, just the two of us, a roomful of strangers who shared with us a love of jazz, great food, and great music.  It proved to be one of the more romantic evenings of recent years.  Christmas Day brought a few surprise gifts offerings to each other.  New Year's Eve we headed to Vinology for a four course dinner and more wonderful jazz but this time, from people we knew.  Great, great food and another magical evening for just the two of us.  We spent January 7th through January 10th entertaining Mark and Lindsey.  Together we discovered wonderful Detroit entertainments, ate great food, watched a close basketball game between KU and U of M, and belatedly celebrated Mark's 29th birthday.  I had left the house decked out for Christmas for the occasion injecting more of a holiday feel.  And finally this last weekend.  More gift giving and receiving, more good food, more family, more fun, and more new members -- not only the spouses of the niece and nephew but also the parents of one.  We spent a pleasant time enjoying dinner at Benihana's and then later gathering in the family room laughing with each other as we shared childhood memories and misdeeds, something we all had in common no matter our age or our origins.

So, I'm torn between a question mark and an ellipsis.  The ellipsis would imply an ambiguity, a wait-and-see kind of feeling.  A "there's more to the story, check back later" kind of feeling.  A question mark would imply that there are undecideds, questions with  answers.  Our family is growing.  Traditions established by the older generation are being adjusted by the newer generation.  There's nothing inherently right or wrong about this reality.  I think it's to be expected.  How we respond to these changes, how we adjust -- well, that could be a question or a wait-and-see, a question mark or an ellipsis.  One is more active; the other, more passive.  Those of us of the "older" generation will choose which position to take.  The younger generation may not even be aware of the dilemma.  For myself, I choose the "wait-and-see, settle back for the ride, there's more to come" approach ...

False Advertising

So I write the annual Christmas letter and send it out to friends and family proudly sharing my blog address with the claim that I average about one entry a week.  The last entry was November 12th!!!!  I've not lived up to my advance advertising!  And I apologize.  To say I've been busy is true but an excuse nonetheless.  I've been enjoying the holiday season and indulging in numerous activities, many of which involve eating and drinking, family and friends, laughter and love.  A worthy set of diversions and a testimony to my priorities, not in the order presented however.  All that is Christmas will come to an end this weekend, January 15th, when we see the Chicago Jacksons.  Do check back here now and again.  I will be posting entries now that winter has settled in and the holidays begin to fade into the past and my routine returns to normal.