Trenton Revolutionary Mile

I met Tom in July on my first Trenton Walking Club stroll through Trenton's Downtown district. Back then he announced he was creating a 1.55-mile run/walk event on October 16th called the Revolutionary Miler. I marked the date on my calendar, and joined their email list. I also started running with Tom and the Trenton Fit group on some Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Tom's plan was ambitious. He wanted 30 people to stand holding yellow umbrellas and signs identifying Trenton landmarks. At the last minute Debbi signed up to hold an umbrella, but where she was supposed to stand was not clear (okay, it was clear in Tom's head, but did not get conveyed clearly to Debbi). She was a good sport.

Bib pick up started at 4:30. The race started at 5:30 after a few speeches by local politicians, with runners going first, followed by the walkers. There were 60 runners, ranging from 10 minutes to 45 minutes. The price for runners and walkers was the same. We each received a $10 gift card to be used at a downtown establishment within the year. I don't know how many walkers.

Right away I spotted Debbi and Mike, then pastors Jeff and Karen. I saw Caroline and Breshen from Passage Theater (I signed up to be on team Passage). I also saw Micah and Jason from Trenton Fit, and of course, Tom. The weather was stunning -- in the 50s and sunny with a crisp blue sky. He truly lucked out in that regard.

We started on Warren. Went past Mill Hill Park, turning away from Passage Theater, up one block to return on E. State Street. Back on Warren we went up to the Battle Monument and came down the other side. We made a similar detour on the other side forming the shape of a sword. As the crowd was light, I returned to this picture often to make sure I was going in the right direction. I used it mostly after the race when I did the course in reverse to try to find the last participants. I'll suggest to Tom that next year he include a cyclist to keep an eye on the runners and walkers.

I slowed my pace and ran with Mayor Reed. When he complained about being out of shape, I invited him to join us on a Tuesday or Thursday evening run.

The crowds were the best I have seen in races. When I left the path to check on Debbi, they pointed me back in the right direction. They laughed when the wind took off my hat. They dispelled the rumor that Trenton is a scary place. 

Businesses stayed open later than usual in order to drum up some business.

Towards the end of the event I started talking to a man from Virginia. He is a furloughed federal worker who used to live in Trenton. We reminisced about the Trenton Half Marathon. He asked me if I remembered it, and I unzipped my jacket to show I was wearing my race shirt from 2017. Yes, I do miss that race. 

I felt in my element. I parked by the War Memorial and strolled to the start. After living in Mercer County for nearly 40 years, Trenton is finally starting to feel like home thanks to the Trenton Walking Club and Trenton Fit.

Dear New York...

About a decade ago Heidi turned me onto Humans of New York. She bought the book of that title and had it on a table in her home. I started following the organization on Facebook. The group featured a photograph of an ordinary person, with a small story about them. I've since learned the photographer/author is named Brandon Stanton.

Brandon has expanded his project to include "humans" from 40 other cities (and growing). For a while he featured individuals in an in-depth series that unfolded on Facebook much as the serial novels of the turn of the last century ... an enticing bite at a time until the full story unfurled. 

This month he unveiled his most ambitious project yet: a two-week public art display at New York City's Grand Central Station. Originally intending to use proceeds from his book "Humans of New York," he ended up using most of his savings to pay for the space and to compensate for their loss of advertising revenue. He took over the train station. He bought the rights to fill every inch of Grand Central Station with art. There is not an ad to be found. Using a grand piano and people affiliated with Julliard, he filled the main concourse with music.

The exhibition only runs from October 6-19.

I read in an article this is the largest public art exhibit since The Gates by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the saffron-colored banners that flooded Central Park in 2005. I have long regretted not going into NYC to see them in person, and was thrilled with The Shed had an exhibit earlier this year reminiscing about it.

Don and I go into New York on a fairly regular basis, especially now that we are not working full time. As we stood on Fifth Avenue waiting to cross 45th Avenue Don looked at me and said how glad he is that we go into the City as we do. It is something his father used to do, and something Don envisioned being part of his retirement. Last night the weather was perfect -- it was still in the 60s after dark and the rain from the weekend evaporated. It was so perfect we ended up walking to the PATH station at the World Trade Center rather than taking the one at 33rd Street like we normally do.

It was odd, yet soothing, to not see ANY ads. In place of advertisements there were pictures from his book, also called Dear New York.

Standing in the Main Concourse with the PA reminding us to be aware of our surroundings and not become a statistic, his images and quotes were projected on 50-foot walls and columns along with quotes making the experience immersive. I felt as if I was part of the story. Often the person would be projected on one column, a snippet of the person's story would appear on one or two columns, then turning around, another column might show an eye on a column on the wall behind us. Making it that much more personal, inviting us into their stories. Into their lives.

We stood reading their stories for about 45 minutes. At the twenty minute mark we asked the guide at the Information Booth if he knew how long the loop was. He said, "it is ten-minutes long." We knew that wasn't right since we had already been there twice as long. The stories were engaging, so we stayed and watched. I did a quick google search, but did not find the answer.

Through the tunnel, in Vanderbilt Hall is the second main part of the exhibit. To the left was a two-part exhibit. On the inside were panels representing photographs by 11 different professional artists. The one that moved me the most was work by Sara Bennett who photographed formerly incarcerated women in their bedrooms. Their panels identify the women, how long their prison term was to be, how long they served, and how long they have been out. Some are living in apartments. Others have a place in a homeless shelter. All are proud of the lives they are rebuilding. There is a description that says they all served time for heinous crimes, including homicide. It continues to say the United States has the longest prison sentences in the world. When I've heard about prison populations the focus is often on Black men. It was jarring to learn the problem exists for white women, too.

Don was drawn to the bright pictures of New York City's nightlife. Images shined with glitter and sequins.

Surrounding these panels were photographs taken by six hundred New York City students of someone who inspired them. They originally planned to include only 300 pictures, but were overwhelmed with the response and, using screens that flipped through multiple pictures could show more than originally planned. Each picture had a sign in font much too small to read and appreciate identifying the artist and how the subject inspired them. It was encouraging to see that these pieces of artwork were closely studied by a large crowd. These six hundred pictures could easily fill a book so you could sit and enjoy each story at your leisure. On the walls, surrounded by people pausing on their daily commute, it was overwhelming. I found it hard to concentrate on the images and stories as I needed to be up close to read the descriptions, and take a step back to enjoy the picture, meanwhile making sure I did not bump into people or be pickpocketed.

The Dear New York exhibit was turned into a 474-page book by Brandon Stanton that debuted on October 7th. The book was for sale in the Transportation Museum exhibit in Grand Central Station, at Amazon, IndieBound, and all major booksellers. We were able to borrow it from our library.

Meanwhile, the Transit Museum was hosting an exhibit on 100 years of the New Yorker Magazine, with a focus on transportation cartoons. It was brilliant, and free. This only runs through October. There is a separate exhibit taking place in the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue.

My favorite: Missed Connections
of two people reading
the same book in 
different trains

The one on the left is from 1978.
The one on the left is from March 2020.

  

Don and I walked around Ground Central Station trying to figure out what we should do for dinner. As we wandered, we saw in place of ads were giant posters of images we recognized from the walls of the Main Concourse. We also saw pictures we did not see. We crossed under the Grand Concourse and came into it from the other side.

As we walked up the stairs, I realized we never saw nor heard the Julliard pianist. Coming from a different angle, we did. We then walked over to our space on the other side of the information desk -- maybe twenty-five feet away (distances are swallowed up in a room that large), but with the desk and central clock blocking our view, and realized we could not hear the piano. Listening carefully, we did hear applause, but only because we were focused on it. Was someone playing when we were there the first time or not? According to the schedule the piano is not played during rush hour. We arrived at ten of six, so maybe it was silent at that point. The perfect arches in Grand Central Station act as a whispering gallery allowing you to whisper in one corner and having the sound travel up the arch to the other side and be heard perfectly well. The Grand Concourse seems to have the opposite where sound is absorbed.

The next day Lin-Manual Miranda had a turn at the piano. That would have been amazing to hear live!

I'm glad we were able to see this exhibit. I think it will be talked about for years reverently, just as the Gates Central Park exhibit of two decades ago.

What Happens When Your Place is Taken?

This Sunday's lectionary reading was Luke 14:7-24, the one about Jesus telling guests at a wedding about how to choose where you sit, i.e., don't presume you are the most important person and immediately sit in the honored chair because someone more worthy may show up and you'll be asked to move. 

It is a familiar text to many Christians. Probably not as familiar outside this circle.

Our pastor turned the familiar into something unexpected. He tied it to our church's mission to provide "radical hospitality." Paraphrasing, started by asking how many of us sit in the same pew each week. How would we feel if when we showed up someone was sitting in our spot?

I'm always late. I tend to sit on the Trenton side (the shorthand for the pews are the Trenton side, center and the Princeton side, easier than keeping track of left and right since is that facing the front or facing the back?), but it varies based on what is open. In the summer I like sitting next to an open window or near a fan. Or (ideally) both.

He then talked about our place outside of church. In the real world. How do we feel when someone takes over our role.

What are my roles?

When Ashley was in school, my role was to take pictures. This was in the days before most people had cameras on their cell phones. I almost always had a (separate) camera on me. I was willing to take pictures, and (more importantly) willing to share the pictures.

On my dig site, my role is to encourage the other diggers (make sure they stay hydrated, keep their spirits up) and clean up at the end. I come from a distance and never make it early, so my role would never be the one to set up. That's someone else's role.

When my parents entertain the family, it is my role to clean up so there is not as much left for my mom to do after we leave. I make sure the extra table is where it belongs, and that dishes are washed. I make sure dad has dessert.

We fall into these roles without thinking about it. It is part of our DNA.

How would I feel if someone took place? 

When cell phone started to come with cameras, I felt redundant. Not needed.

At the dig site, we feel like a team. We look out for each other. We clean up together.

I often wish my sisters, and the menfolk would chip in with the clean up, but is that how I really feel or do I like hiding behind the sink?

This weekend my host sister, Susanne, visited with her family. Let me backtrack, after high school I took a gap year and thanks to the local Rotary club, I lived in Belgium. For half of that time, Susanne lived with my parents. I met her in 1987 for a couple of days before I left for my adventures (I believe I slept on the pull out sofa while she settled into her new room, my old bed, my old life), and I saw her once in Copenhagen when our paths crossed in the same city. This was the first time we spent hours together.

Susanne and her family of five are lovely. Their English is amazing. It is easy to forget it is their second (or third) language. They are well-travelled and know how to be good guests. They all helped out. Often before I had a chance to wash a dish or put something away, her husband, Lars, or she was doing it. I must admit, it was a little jarring.

I felt a little bit like I was being replaced by Jacquie 2.0, a little more professional,
a little happier, definitely blonder, speaks multiple languages fluently, was able to keep working while raising three wonderful children (yes, the Danish social structure helps with that), and seemed to do everything better than me. She even travelled in an all-while outfit that was spotless after 22 hours of planes, trains, and airplanes. It is hard to not feel a little jealous. Thankfully she is also genuinely kind.

My rational mind reminded me I am not being replaced. After a few days in New York, they will return to Denmark. They won't be here at Thanksgiving and Christmas to wash dishes and keep my dad happy.

How will I feel the next time I encounter a Jacquie 2.0? Can we be friends or will we act as rivals? Is there room for another me or will I feel as if I am being replaced?

These are questions that are important to consider as our church family tries to connect with new people.

Three Event Day

I remember being in my twenties and doing so much on a weekend I only shared a portion of my activities with my much older co-workers. Looking back, I realize they were in their forties, or maybe fifties, but when you are 22, they were much closer to my parents' ages. Their children were grown. They had grown up houses (as opposed to our row home). Grown up responsibilities.

They were younger than I am now.

Even the curated version of how I spent my weekend gave the impression I was much busier than they seemed to feel possible. 

In some ways I slowed down to only a couple of activities on a weekend. More than that and I do need time to recharge -- physically and mentally. I don't want to be that busy. I want time to sit down and process life. 

Today is one of those recharging days.

A couple of weeks ago I had three vastly different events to go to. One needed a complete wardrobe change to transform into a different version of me.

The first was a DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) meeting. Since learning we have a DAR relative (Noah Wiswell) who valiantly walked 28 miles from Newtown, MA to the Battle of Lexington at the age of 66 to fight in the war along his sons I've been curious about joining. BTW, adding to the cool factor of Captain Wiswell is that his birthday was the day before mine (270 years earlier).

When my friend Stacy said she was
presenting her research about Lady Sterling a the next DAR meeting in Princeton, I decided to check it out. Her speech was wonderful, and I would love to hear her again. But, sitting in Nassau Hall with minorities quietly white serving us tiny portions of a goat cheese salad or chicken sandwich while wearing white gloves made me cringe. I wore a dress, stockings, pearls, and high heels to dress the part. I didn't realize they had their own parking lot (a rarity in Princeton) so I walked fifteen minutes in the get up. I even had one person cede the sidewalk to me, which gives you a sense of how out of time I looked.

I politely declined the invitation to join.

I dashed home and changed into my usual attire of shorts and tee-shirt and drove to the Lawrenceville School for a symposium about the history of Lewisville Road. The audience was perhaps half white and half black, with a few other minorities represented. I felt at home listening to inspirational messages encouraging us to keep their history alive.

As I type this I see the irony in that the mission of the DAR is to keep the history alive. They are trying to encourage younger women, and women of other ethnicities to join, but they will always be elitist -- must be a woman, and must trace your family tree to someone who fought in the war. For years, we thought we only had people who lived here then, which is already divisive.

The third event required another change. This time because the forecast was calling for cooler temperatures. Don and I went to Burlington County's Arts After Dark event -- a one-night festival with storytelling, art, artisans, and music. I wish it was longer, though I respect it is a lot to organize. This was my second year.

Don and I hung out with Ashley's art teacher, Brittany, and her husband. Then Ashley and Anna joined us, which was a treat.

 

There was no time to cook dinner in the middle of all that, so we ate out at the Flying Pig Tavern in Bordentown - the original location which got its name when they told their friends they would transform their food truck to a restaurant "when pigs fly." They are about to open their fourth location. All are run by family and close friends of the owners. (No advertising dollars were received for that plug, but they would be welcomed.) Had our favorite server, Melanie, whose daughter is about Ashley's age, though they did not go to school together but have friends in common. Small world!

Perfect way to end a busy day.  

Film Tour of Princeton University

Alliance Français of Princeton hosted a tour of where films were created on campus. As we stood in front of buildings, Yassine, a student who organizes the annual French Film Festival carried around his iPad to shows us images of how the places looked in the movies. 

Some I recognized, such as the 2001 "A Beautiful Mind" and "Oppenheimer," others I did not, including the 1928 film "Varsity" by Yale student Frank Tuttle, but only one really surprised me: "Terminator 2."

The weather was perfect. The calendar says fall, but the temperatures are still summer.

In front of Nassau Hall we learned that "Varsity," a movie by Paramount starring Buddy Rogers, was asked by the University to be removed because it showed *gasp* scenes of students drinking. Mind you, this was the era of prohibition.

If you want to film at the university, you need to get permission.

We headed to Blair Hall, part of the earliest campus expansion. Up until the 1970s it is where the Dinky train used to end. The Dinky station has since been moved twice. It was a famous landmark depicted in such films as the 1979 film "Last Embrace," a spy movie with the protagonist visiting Princeton University to find a professor who could translate Hebrew. "Admission," the 2013 film starring Tina Fey and Paul Rudd was also filmed here. Today students and some faculty live in Blair Hall.

"A Beautiful Mind" was filmed outside of Laughlin Hall and inside Rockefeller College. Yassine remembers watching some of the filming.  

We stopped in front of dumpsters outside the U Store. This was an example of when "Runner Runner," a movie starring Ben Affleck and Justin Timberlake that was filmed on the streets of Princeton, thus only needing the town's permission, and not that of "the gown."

Also at Rockefeller College, the 1951 Cary Grant film "People Will Talk" was filmed. It is about a female student who is pregnant and the college professor who helps her. Ironically, women were not admitted to Princeton until 1969, so I suppose the trustees did not find this worthy of censorship like they did in the 1920s. 

"Transformers 2" and "Oppenheimer" were both filmed at East Pyne Hall. In real life it is the building where foreign languages are taught. We paused here for a group photo.

Every student has to write a senior thesis before they can graduate. They are housed in Firestone Library. Future students can see them. The most requested ones are by actors Dean Cain, Brooke Shields, and David Duchovny. 

Fort Mifflin Archaeology

A couple of friends shared with me that Eternal Soldier was hosting archaeology on Fridays and Saturdays in October at Fort Mifflin. I really appreciate the information!

Erring on the side of caution, I signed up for only one session. Unlike my experiences at Newlin Grist Mill, these sessions were from 8:30 am to 4:30 pm. That's a long day, especially factoring in an hour drive in each direction. 

What if I don't like the people? What if the work is too hard? 

Last week I drove past the site on my way home from West Chester, PA. Fort Mifflin is located directly next to the Philadelphia Airport.

What if it is too loud? 

Dan, my archaeology buddy, signed up for some of the days. We were able to dig together, which eased my mind about what if they don't like me? Dan has worked with Max, the leader on this project, and always has nice things to say about her. Dan has nice things to say about a lot of people.

I arrived at 8:30 am. Some came after me. After orientation explaining the history of Fort Mifflin from its early days as a Revolutionary War site through to its involvement in the Civil War, World War I, and World War II, followed by what we can expect to find and the jobs needed, we were set free to dig!

Our first job was to bail the water out of the test unit that was started last week. I was so glad I did not sign up for week 1 because that is when they have to pull off the top layer of grass and mark out the site. Tedious work that yields no artifacts. Week two should be more exciting.

After bailing water, Dan and I took the drier end of the test unit and started to dig. Pretty quickly he found a bricked off spot. A feature. A feature is a subsection of a test unit. It is handled separately. It could be the remnants of posts that used to be a fence. Rarely are they as defined as the box of bricks Dan discovered. One brick had the marking: WARCO XX, another said 18x12. We got excited when it said 18, hoping it would be followed by a year, but alas no, it was just the size. This area will be studied closer to figure out what it is.

Our test units are 2 meters by 2 meters. Every place uses different measurements. At one point I was helping Chelsea measure how far down we were before we could continue digging deeper. They measure in metric. Keith at Newlin Grist Mill prefers engineering method of ten units per foot. As with many things in life, there is no wrong answer, but you have to be consistent. 

Each unit was assigned a different color bucket to help the volunteers keep track of what they were digging and where to put the artifacts. It mostly helped, but there were times it added to the confusion, especially with regards to the feature since that then needed a separate color bucket.

Within two scrapings of the trowel I found a bullet casing. That generated a bunch of excitement, until they verified it was used as part of WWII reenactment exercises. If it was live ammunition we would have to shut down the project until someone from Fort Mifflin could study the situation. Similar to when human remains are found.

The day was beautiful. A little warm for October (in the low 80s, and sunny). As we dug on the dry side, the other side of the test unit started to fill in with water again. Yes, the Delaware River is tidal and the tide was rolling in. This will make for challenging digger. There was another unit that was completely in the shade, Dan and I have dibs on that for next time, as returning volunteers we know where the better spot is.

I explained to Chelsea I know just enough to be dangerous. I'm not afraid of digging, or getting dirty, or any of the jobs that are needed to be done, but I don't know everything. By the afternoon Max was teaching me the right way to trowel and insisting I recognize the difference in soil changes (eventually I just smiled and nodded, it all looks like dirt to me). 

We broke for lunch for an hour at 1 pm. It was hard returning to digging at 2. I know I slowed down. A lot. I noticed other volunteers slipping away. By 3 pm I was ready to pack it in for the day. The schedule said we were supposed to keep going until 3:45. Chelsea recognized the need to keep volunteers happy so we come back. I started packing things up, but got overzealous and had to return shovels because a couple were still needed. That sort of thing.

It was a fun day. I'm already planning a return later this month.

I gained an appreciation for our weekly digs at NGM. We are never in a rush, and we have the flexibility to change our minds. The project at Fort Mifflin has strict guidelines. Even though the brick says 18x12 and we can only see 12x12 of it, they won't dig another text pit next to it to see how it continues. Maybe in a future year, but not this one. The project has to wrap up by the end of the month. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and they won't lose time to either the elements, or to finding live ammunition.

<<--bottle found at Newlin Grist Mill last week. 

October Kindness Challenge

Last Saturday I said to Don, "I did a good deed today." He replied, "I'm not surprised, that sounds like you. What did you do, did you help a little old lady cross the street?"

After chuckling at the little old lady comment, I told him what I did. It felt good to be thought of as someone who helps others. Lately politics has had me down and I don't feel as if I have been adding positively to the world. I'm still upset with myself for hurting a long-time friend's feelings by stating publicly I'm against all the current President stands for, and don't think very highly of people who voted for him. While I wrote that on Facebook, and I stand behind my words, I did not mean to hurt her. Then again she hurt me by ignoring the times I reached out to her in the past year. 

Lots of hurt to go around.

With the new month, I want to challenge myself to do something kind every day.

Jane Goodall, who passed away yesterday, is famous for saying "You cannot go through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to do."

I want to make a difference for good.

Saturday's good deed was stopping to let someone use my car to jump start theirs. They had been sitting there for a while with the jumper cables at the ready, but no one stopped. I saw him when I was walking towards my car. I told myself if he was still there when I had my car, I would stop. So I did. Wearing high heels and pearls, I was quite a sight as I tried to figure out how to open my hood. It took only a few moments, and he was able to go on his way.

A half an hour later I helped a little old lady cross the street. Well, across the campus to the event, and she wasn't that old.

The next day I returned a library book to the elementary school after it was left in my Little Free Library.

Wednesday, October 1: Volunteered at the English School

Thursday, October 2: Edited a friend's book

Friday, October 3: Told a neighbor I don't know I admire how well he was able to grow new grass 

Saturday, October 4: Went to see a friend perform

Sunday, October 5: Notarized a document

Monday, October 6: Checked in with a friend receiving treatments

Tuesday, October 7: Donated socks to Socktober at the library

Wednesday, October 8: Cheered on runners during my walk

Thursday, October 9: Sent a friend a picture of the fall foliage

Friday, October 10: Gave a stranger a ride home. Bonus point: he only speaks French and I was able to communicate with him.

Saturday, October 11: Cleaned up after a friend's party

Sunday, October 12: Drove out of town guests around

Monday, October 13: Cleaned up my parents' house after company left

Tuesday, October 14: Picked up litter during my walk

Wednesday, October 15: Picked up Don's book from the library

Thursday, October 16: Volunteered to look for the last runners in a race when they went missing

Friday, October 17: Brought a friend to a show

Saturday, October 18: Brought friends to a protest

Sunday, October 19: Turned the heat on Don's side of the bed before he climbed in

Monday, October 20: I can't point to anything I did, but I did witness Don offering his arm to an elderly person going down a couple of stairs. I'd like to think that my kindness is rubbing off on him.

Tuesday, October 21: Sent positive feedback to a group on an online presentation they arranged over the weekend

I'll try to remember to keep updating this. The point is, small things add up to big ones. It is actually hard to remember what I did on each day. Some days I have more than one action that could be categorized as a kindness, other days I can't think of one. There are days I anticipate in advance what my kindness will be, and then a different opportunity presents itself and I chose that instead.

If you are inspired by reading this, share your good deeds.

PS: I forgot to keep track.