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Another Day in the Neighborhood


First up on the day’s agenda was a visit to the
dermatologist in the Medical Center in Houston. I’ve discovered that the most
pleasant approach is to park somewhere in Herman Park and take the train, thus
avoiding the challenge—character building experience of parking a F250 in
parking garages more suitable for Renault LeCars. I rode with a short old black
woman carrying a Tinkerbell backpack, a black gentleman carrying what had to be
an extremely greasy breakfast offering wrapped in layers of waxed paper giving
me his seat. I guess I must look old or infirm but I’ve noted that people are
tending to open doors for me too.

A handful of birdseed

Herman Park is a quite lovely place with a large reflection
pool with a fountain. Beds of fading roses gave a faint fragrance while
squirrels well-practiced in the art of begging gave it their best shot with
me—. Someone had thrown out a bag of birdseed for the grackles and pigeons
and I watched them scramble for the best bits of cracked corn.

Rows of yellow school buses filled the parking lot and I was
a bit reluctant to go into the Museum of Natural History but I haven’t used my
member pass for a few months. Groups of school children of assorted ages and
all in uniforms roamed about the museum excitedly shouting about this or that
discovery. I toured the Hall of the Americas very leisurely paying particular
attention to the textiles. Regrettably no photos were allowed; I did a few
crude sketches of some of the more interesting items. While I did so, one of
the school groups came through and spying me working away in my sketchbook, a
boy about 12 said ‘shh’s—be quiet..someone’s here studying..” I didn’t realize
I looked so intent.

Home again in misty rain—wishing it was a regular downpour.

 

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