Archaeology at the Cornelius Low House

The real reason I keep up with my membership in the Archaeology Society of New Jersey is the opportunity to go on a volunteer dig once a year. It seems, like with much else, the ASNJ is figuring out how to safely host a dig.

This year we could sign up for 90 minute slots at the 1741 Cornelius Low House, next to the stadium at Rutgers University. As the slots were filled before I got around to doing it, I emailed them and they said come anyway. 

We only had two 4x4 pits -- and the two pits were far away from each other so as to feel as if we were the only ones out there digging. We wore masks, eve though we were outside. Only two people in each pit at a time. (The tent was a last minute addition as the sun was beating stronger than expected, and someone had a tent in their trunk. They planned to bring a second one the next day for the pit I worked in.)

I dug for a while, then moved over to sifting so the stronger arms could move more dirt. Mike uncovered:

Last I heard they were still trying to identify it.

I found a rather large tooth while sifting:

I ended up staying later than my shift, and enjoying every minute. The day was deceptively warm with a breeze that was welcomed whenever it came by. Sunshine is wonderful, but temps in the mid-70s are not typical for the end of September. 

I was invited back the next day, but as we had plans with cousins Helen and Paul, it didn't work out. Yup, life is getting busy again.

18 Months into the Pandemic

 I wish I had wise words for this milestone. I have thoughts, but not answers.

* How are we still here?

* Why couldn't we have adjusted to a life of masks sooner and let graduations and celebrations happen for Ashley and her classmates?

* Why hasn't the FDA approved a vaccine for under 12 year olds?

Masks are common in our part of the country, but not in other parts. 

Proof of vaccination is required in NYC, but not in New Jersey. 

Labor shortages exist. I've heard rumors of a shortage of paper towels, paper, and turkeys (buy Tom the Turkey early this year). 

After 18 months, I feel numb to it. 

I'm starting to get out again as things reopen, but in the back of my head there is the fear I could catch COVID.

This week Don learned he may never return to the office. What a change from 18 1/2 months ago when he was told he could never work even a day from home. Now we share an office.

Wonder what the next 18 months will bring.

Lucy, The Oldest Surviving Roadside Attraction in America

 

There is nothing like having an international guest plus a planned eight-month construction project to move a "someday I'd like to see" to a "this weekend we will see."

That was the case with Lucy the Elephant. Lucy was built in 1881 in South Atlantic City (now Margate) as a roadside attraction. The original owner built the 65-foot elephant about 100 feet away from where she currently stands as a way to sell beachfront property. Prospective owners would pay a penny to climb to the top and from the howdah look out and point to where they wanted to live. At the time there was no easy way to reach Lucy as the rail line ended a few miles north in Atlantic City, and the road had not yet been built. Therefore, it was not an easy sale.

Postcards used to refer to Lucy as "the elephant hotel of Atlantic City," but until March 2020, it was never actually a hotel. In March 2020 airbnb.com ran a contest where four couples were allowed to stay in Lucy each for a night (seems they squeezed this in just before COVID struck). It was a very successful contest!

The building fell into disrepair. It has been fixed over the years as being that close to ocean damages his skin (despite the girly name, elephants with tusks are all males). A week after our visit in September 2021, it was scheduled to be closed until Memorial Day weekend 2022, and hidden under a cover that entire time.

You can read about the history HERE. 

The day we drove down the weather was beautiful. The NJ Ironman was happening in nearby Atlantic City, but other than seeing some runners on the boardwalk, we were not impacted by the extra traffic. 

Tours happen every 45 minutes. Of course we arrived 7 minutes after one started. We walked to the beach and around Lucy and scoped out a place for lunch. After being in the car for nearly two hours, it felt good to walk.

Ticket booth where people
in the 19th century bought
tickets to go inside Lucy.

Bathtub, but no toilet.

Some artifacts from the area

Our tour guide shared some tidbits about Lucy's life. We went inside with about 15 other people, including 4 small children who were humoring their moms. We had to climb a spiral staircase inside on of her hind legs. Spoiler alert -- we climbed back out again down the other hind leg, never did see what was inside the other two legs or the trunk.

The upstairs was not what I expected. It is pure Victorian splendor. Most of the wood has been replaced over the years. I later learned a friend from library school was married inside Lucy.

View from inside her eye

Giant peanuts in her stomach --
what else would you expect?

Us in the howdah

Lucy moved from where the giant building is
to where she is now (view from the howdah)

I hope we can return next summer with Ashley so she can see Lucy.

I need to recharge

This week it became clear to me that I need to recharge.

This week it also became clear to me that I don't know how to recharge.

The pandemic is nearly 18 months old. Old being the operative word.

I'm drained at work.

I'm drained at home.

I don't have the energy to be the only one who is "up." 

I need to recharge.

I don't know how to recharge.

Day after my birthday blues

As I sit here in my office, the only person at school on Rosh Hoshana, I am feeling the post-birthday blues. I'm missing my friend Carin. I'm missing Dana's annual birthday greeting (he loved birthdays and was always the first to wish someone a happy birthday -- sadly something I didn't appreciate about him until his virtual funeral earlier this year). Missing my grandfather, as we used to have a combined family birthday celebration.

My exchange student, Yoran, presented me with a bar of good Belgian chocolate for my birthday. I was touched. It is clearly something he brought with him that he planned to give us for Christmas (he already gave us our welcome chocolate with the promise of more coming later). Here is an 18-year old who has only known me for a week and knew exactly what would make me smile.

Put that in contrast with people who have known me my entire life, or their life, or most of our lives, yet, could not come up with a present that would make me smile. 

Don pointed out last weekend we went into NYC to see the Van Gogh exhibit and dined at a French restaurant. All true. Behind that, though, I bought the tickets to Van Gogh, I made the dinner reservation, I planned the outing. He would also point out we went to Grounds for Sculpture with Yoran. Again, I'd point out I made the reservations.

Ashley did text me a birthday greeting at 12:15 am. I asked her to FaceTime and set a time of 4:30 to see her. Between classes and play rehearsal, I knew her time was limited. At 6 she said she had an emergency meeting at 5 and was sorry. I was sorry I wasted 90 minutes waiting for her to call and didn't live in the moment. All because I wanted to see her smiling face.

Neither Don nor Ashley likes surprises, but I do.

That's where the disconnect lies. 

That's where the disappointment festers.

I want to feel special. I don't feel special.

It was another reminder I can't count on Don or Ashley for emotional support, yet they expect me to provide it to them.

Let's Gogh to Van Gogh!

Months ago I bought tickets for Don and I to celebrate my birthday in New York City at the Immersive Van Gogh exhibit at Pier 36. A couple of weeks before my birthday the organization reached out to let me know my tickets would have to be changed because they no longer had permission to use that building. Fortunately the rescheduled date fit on our calendar, so we went on August 29 instead.

There is a longer version to the story that involves buying tickets to a similar (though in my opinion not as good) virtual reality show in Philadelphia called Van Gogh: the Immersive Experience. I asked for a refund and was granted it. With so many artists, why have two shows about the same artist and use words that are nearly identical?

When I first heard about the Immersive Van Gogh we thought this would be our first big outing to New York City since COVID, that was long before we knew we would be seeing a show on Broadway. It was still a fun outing. Based on fond memories of seeing Klimt at Ateliers des Lumieres in Paris in 2018, I really wanted to see Van Gogh in New York City.

It was basically a similar experience -- images of art work projected on enormous walls and floors so you actually feel as if you are a part of the experience.

Other than the artist, there were differences.

1) The show in Paris was about $17, the one in NYC was $50.

2) The show in Paris was only in one room, this was the same show in four rooms.

3) Paris was far more crowded (it was pre-COVID).

4) The show in Paris was nearly an hour then it repeated. The one in New York was about 15 minutes before repeating.

The one in Paris will always feel more special to me, partially because it was the first time I saw something like that.

Back to New York. We knew it was at Pier 36, but thought it was on the same side of the Island as Little Island's Pier 55. Ooops. They were an hour apart on foot, or 35 minutes apart by mass transit (we walked). Fortunately (for once) we were early. Even after stopping for lunch, we were early enough to enter at the beginning of our window.

As I stated earlier, the exhibit was in four rooms. Walking from room to room it became less crowded. My favorite was the third room because the projection was also on the floor -- making you really feel as if you are in it. After that we walked up a flight of stairs to watch from above (which felt like a fourth room).

Everyone wore masks and there was plenty of space to spread out and enjoy the experience.

Here are some images:

After Van Gogh we hiked back to the other side for dinner at Pastis, site of where we had an incredible spur of the moment birthday lunch last year. This time I made a reservation the night before, so we had the odd 4:45 time slot. We dressed a little nicer and dined inside. It was fun -- again, the closest I will get to Paris for a while. I had a simple omelet, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Don said this is turning into an annual tradition, if so, next year I want to go earlier so I can have the quiche again. It is rare for me to drool after the memory of a meal, but, alas, I do. The quiche is on their brunch menu. The two women near me sang "Happy Birthday," and waiter added a candle to my dish. I felt loved and special, which is important.

We walked around the High Line and enjoyed the beautiful weather knowing it might be our last date night until Yoran becomes settled -- which I hope is soon for all of our sakes! Great guy, but I'm not used to setting up playdates and driving a teen where they need to go, or having to keep track of a school calendar and how someone is doing with their classes.

Stay tuned for more updates about our year playing tourist in our own backyard.

What a week! Taking time for a Pause

This morning I woke up tired with no wish to do anything other than read the latest Louise Penny book ("The Madness of Crowds") and organize photos. To just take a pause before I turn 52 tomorrow. An odd reaction from me because today we had planned to take our new son into NYC to walk around. I was looking forward to going into NYC, but it would have been our third Sunday in four weeks -- a bit much by my standards.

Instead when I woke up I said to Don he and Yoran could go to NYC and leave me home alone. I was really hoping they would take me up on it. Had I not fallen out of the habit of praying, I would have been praying for them to go into NYC without me and leave me home alone.

Instead of going into NYC, Don is riding his bike and Yoran is chatting with his friends back home. 

Let me backtrack to the past week. 

Friday, August 27 Ashley returned to campus.

Saturday, August 28 Don went into Philadelphia for a group bike ride and I was home alone for the first time in ages. Leading up to this, we combined our offices and prepared Yoran's room. Then we cleaned the basement so there is another teen hang out space.

Sunday, August 29 we went into NYC to celebrate my birthday early while we attended the Van Gogh virtual exhibit.

Monday, August 30 we picked Yoran up from the airport.

Tuesday, August 31 we had a quiet day for Yoran to adjust, but Don and I both worked. After work Yoran and I went grocery shopping so I could learn what he likes to eat.

Wednesday, September 1 Yoran had to take an ESL test -- which he passed with flying colors. Don took him. Again, we both worked. That night we had a tornado in town, and FaceTimed Ashley so she could finally meet him.

Thursday, September 2 Yoran and I went back to the high school for class selection. Again, we both worked. After work Yoran asked to go to the high school football game. Of course I said yes.

Friday, September 3 Don and I took the tandem out for a spin. More errands. A visit with a friend. I also went for a run for the first time in ages.

Saturday, September 4 MORNING: the

three of us had our post-arrival YFU site visit. Learning YFU's expectations for host parents is exhausting ... monthly check-ins, three meetings a year on a date they select, community day (for Yoran). At the meeting we were told to apply by January if we want an exchange student next year -- let's survive this year first! AFTERNOON: Nephew Hayden and friends, and neighbors Noam and Ashley came over to meet him. (As Don put it, a chance for me to have that graduation party Ashley wouldn't let me host for her.) EVENING: We drove to Ocean Grove to watch the sun set and walk the boardwalk.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I have hardly heard from Ashley -- which is both good and not good. I'd love to have a real conversation with her.

No wonder by Sunday I was feeling tired. The cloudy weather is not helping.

Yoran is a perfect exchange student. He hails from Belgium (where I spent a gap year) so when he talks about life in Belgium, I can picture it. His English is amazing -- years of schooling, and the availability of American TV and movies shown in their original language have helped. He has a great sense of humor. Best (for me) his parents raised him well so he helps around the house -- cleans up after himself and after us. Part of why I could press on so many days in a row was because he helps and I don't feel like it is all on me. May he not gain bad habits from the rest of us! The dinner table is clean before we eat, his shoes are always away. He is very pleasant. I try to remember being 18 in a foreign country and being exhausted because I had to translate everything into English and back out again. Again, his English is much stronger than my French has ever been and he is still on week 1.

Meanwhile, a couple of moments of note:

1) I nearly teared up with the security guard handed him my pass and said "give this to your mom," and he did.

2) By Wednesday he was already calling our house "home." I'm glad he feels comfortable here.

3) I wasn't prepared to enter "boy's land." The house is already starting to smell like a locker room and food has shifted towards meat and potatoes. An adjustment I hadn't anticipated.

Tomorrow I start another lap around the planet. A time for reflection on the past year, and a chance to dream about the new one. What will this year be like? The biggest question is, will COVID be enough in the past we can enjoy living without guilt. Ashley will be halfway through college. Will I travel out of the country? We can't with Yoran (YFU rules) but I could alone.