The Hubris of Men

“This is the story of Isaac and his time in America, the last turning of the centuries, when the hubris of men led them to believe they could disregard even nature itself.”
― Erik Larson, Isaac’s Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History

Oblique Strategy: Children -speaking -singing

When our kids were young we used to come over Thanksgiving, or over New Year, or both – to rent a beach house at Crystal Beach on the Bolivar Peninsula, just east of Galveston, Texas. In the off season you could rent an old rickety beach house for almost nothing. It was great with high maintenance kids like ours- there were only two directions they could go on the beach and nothing they could destroy. It was the best of times.

We had to stop going because in 2008 Hurricane Ike wiped the low sandy Bolivar Peninsula clean.

Now, ten years later, a lot of the beach houses have been rebuilt. Their stilts are noticeably higher now, heavier and more numerous. So we rented one for New Year’s – Lee came from New Orleans and Nick from North of Houston.

It’s great to be back, the only problem is the weather is awful – cold, rainy, and very windy.

Lee walking in the surf at Crystal Beach. I checked my old blog entries – this was December 29, 2002. Fifteen years ago, almost to the day.

Lee walking in roughly the same spot, fifteen years later. There was no sun and it was very cold and windy. Same ocean, though.

Then and now, DART train and the White Rock Creek Trail

And there is the headlight, shining far down the track, glinting off the steel rails that, like all parallel lines, will meet in infinity, which is after all where this train is going.
—-Bruce Catton

I like to take pictures of the DART trains. While I was exploring the Cottonwood Trail I snapped this one of the intersection of the Cottonwood and While Rock Creek Trails.

White Rock Creek
The southern terminus of the Cottonwood Creek trail, where it connects with the White Rock Creek Trail. The DART train is crossing White Rock Creek over the trail.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you look up and realize that you’re one of those people you see on the train talking to themselves?
—-Marc Maron

And here’s a picture of the trail from the train, showing the spot I took the picture.
White Rock Creek Trail

The White Rock Creek Trail from the DART train. I don't know what the crap on the window was. I probably don't want to know. It was on the outside, at least.

Here is what it looked like this Saturday. I took this picture from the train with a better camera (my Nikon is back from repairs). Look how much greener everything looks after only a rain or two over the last weeks.

Rest Area

The trail runs through some thick woods between the train line and the creek south of Forest Lane. There is a nice rest area built there. This homeless guy was sitting in the rest area, reading and writing in his notebook. We talked about the weather and I helped him find a lost sock.

I took this picture of a homeless guy at a nice wooded rest area along the Cottonwood Trail.

Here is the same spot along the trail taken from the passing train. There is usually a homeless person (different ones each time) camped out here, but today it was deserted.


Then and Now, Lee gets a hit

Nick and Lee are playing on a softball team on Sunday evenings. One of the other kid’s parents said, “It wasn’t that long ago I was their little league coach – and now they’re playing in an old-man softball league.”

Nick at third base

Nick at third base

Lee gets a hit

Lee gets a hit

I know it’s different kids in the two pictures – but it’s late, I’m busy… and this is what I’ve got.

Speaking of baseball, everybody was watching “The Sandlot” the other day. The kids loved this movie – this is one of the ones that they watched over and over. It was unusual in that I liked it as much as they did. A classic.

People can talk about the “Best Onscreen Kiss.” I don’t think there is any doubt – it is when Squints puts the move on Wendy Peffercorn.

Michael Squints Palledorous walked a little taller that day. And we had to tip our hats to him. He was lucky she hadn’t beat the CRAP out of him. We wouldn’t have blamed her. What he’d done was sneaky, rotten, and low… and cool. Not another one among us would have ever in a million years even for a million dollars have the guts to put the moves on the lifeguard. He did. He had kissed a woman. And he had kissed her long and good. We got banned from the pool forever that day. But every time we walked by after that, the lifeguard looked down from her tower, right over at Squints, and smiled.
—-The Sandlot

Then and Now – Lee likes shiny things

Then:

Lee at MLS soccer gameT

Lee at MLS soccer game

Lee, outside a soccer game at the Cotton Bowl. He likes shiny things

This was a game in 2002 where, in honor of the visiting Clint Mathis, everybody (that wanted one)  got free Mohawks – all the kids on Nick’s soccer team did. .

2011 Mardi Gras

2011 Mardi Gras

Lee, New Orleans, 2011 Mardi Gras. He still likes shiny things.

Then and Now at the Nasher Sculpture Center

Some time long ago – I think it was the early spring of 2004 – Lee and I went down to the newly-constructed Nasher Sculpture Center in the still nascent Arts District of Dallas. I took some pictures of him, and wrote it up into my journal, The Daily Epiphany, at the time. It was popular enough that I re-wrote it into a magazine article and it was published in a local magazine, Richardson Living,  (I’ll dig up what I wrote and put it up here when I get some time). The folks at the Nasher liked it so much they sent me some free tickets.

Now, about seven years later, Lee and I went down there again and I took some more pictures. Like most museums the artworks move around quite a bit – so nothing was exactly the same. Lee has, of course, grown a bit, and my camera is different. The trees in the Nasher garden have grown a lot. In 2004, the place felt like a finely tended garden – now it’s more like a forest glade.

It was hot as a humid blowtorch today, and the light wasn’t very good, so the pictures aren’t great. I wanted to go early in the morning, but the house was full of sleeping college age boys, nobody slept much last night, and it took some doing to get myself enthused and then roust them up and out the door.

Night (La Nuit) by Aristide Maillol

Night (La Nuit) by Aristide Maillol

This is Lee sitting on a wall in front of Night (La Nuit) by Aristide Maillol.

Lee sitting by Night, 2004

Lee sitting by Night, 2004

Seven years ago, the sculpture was out in the grassy garden area.

Eve, by Rodin

Eve, by Rodin

Eve, by Auguste Rodin

Eve, by Rodin, 2004

Eve, by Rodin, 2004

Bronze Crowd, by Magdalena Abakanowicz

Bronze Crowd, by Magdalena Abakanowicz

Bronze Crowd, by Magdalena Abakanowicz

Bronze Crowd, by Magdalena Abakanowicz - 2004

Bronze Crowd, by Magdalena Abakanowicz - 2004

Richard Serra - My Curves are Not Mad

Richard Serra - My Curves are Not Mad

One sculpture that is still in the same place is Richard Serra’s My Curves Are Not Mad.  That’s not surprising – it weighs fifty tons or so and I read somewhere that they had to do some serious work on the foundation when the museum was built. I did this by memory, but it looks like I stood in the exact spot I did seven years ago. You can really see how much the trees have grown.

My Curves are Not Mad - Richard Serra, 2004

My Curves are Not Mad - Richard Serra, 2004

Inside My Curves are Not Mad - 2004

Inside My Curves are Not Mad - 2004

Quantum Cloud XX (tornado) by Antony Gormley

Quantum Cloud XX (tornado) by Antony Gormley

Quantum Cloud XX (tornado) by Antony Gormley used to be down at the bottom of the garden. I liked it there, it looked like a ghost emerging from the shrubbery. It’s always been one of my favorite pieces and I still like it. Actually, today I was glad it had been moved into the air conditioning.

Untitled (Sprawling Octopus Man), by Thomas Houseago

Untitled (Sprawling Octopus Man), by Thomas Houseago

Untitled (Sprawling Octopus Man), by Thomas Houseago, is part of a temporary exhibit, called Satuesque.

Hammering Man, by Jonathan Borofsky

Hammering Man, by Jonathan Borofsky

Everyone that has lived in Dallas for a long time remembers Hammering Man, by Jonathan Borofsky, because it used to grace Raymond Nasher’s shopping mall, Northpark. I love it that he was allowed to stay in the city.