Sunday, September 30, 2018
Looking up in NYC
NYC is a place for wandering. You will always find something remarkable, curious, new. Yesterday I got off the subway at 18th Street and 7th Avenue and started walking east (after heading west and circling a block to reorient myself) toward Union Square. My aim was to get to the Union Square Market.
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Beautiful Fall day bringing September to an end
We are closing in on the end of September and the end of the first month of school. My last first month of a school year at HM. It feels like a deep breath; I am in the pool trying to come up for air to see more clearly what is ahead. The water is already wide and deep with possibility, but also with force and energy.
Since moving my dining room table back into the dining room I have been more aware of the piano even though it has been there all the years I had made it my music room centered on the violin. I have mom's piano book sitting on the stand with her list of songs that she was preparing to play at her recital at FBH. She loved waltzes and she loved Fur Elise. As I play them I can hear her singing them and I can hear the clicking of her fingers that sometimes accompanied her playing. My hands are a lot like hers; more likely to land on keys than run over keys; more purposefully placed than fluid.
Deborah has begun to take piano lessons and has purchased a Yamaha keyboard. Now I know two people who are playing on keyboards and am wondering if I should give up my piano knowing there is a good substitute. She said that she wants to play classical music. I have the same feeling about violin. I want my playing to sound like the music I enjoy listening to. It's such a long road from one to the other.
Since moving my dining room table back into the dining room I have been more aware of the piano even though it has been there all the years I had made it my music room centered on the violin. I have mom's piano book sitting on the stand with her list of songs that she was preparing to play at her recital at FBH. She loved waltzes and she loved Fur Elise. As I play them I can hear her singing them and I can hear the clicking of her fingers that sometimes accompanied her playing. My hands are a lot like hers; more likely to land on keys than run over keys; more purposefully placed than fluid.
Deborah has begun to take piano lessons and has purchased a Yamaha keyboard. Now I know two people who are playing on keyboards and am wondering if I should give up my piano knowing there is a good substitute. She said that she wants to play classical music. I have the same feeling about violin. I want my playing to sound like the music I enjoy listening to. It's such a long road from one to the other.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Early Childhood Education and Prison Education: cultural overlap?
Jody Lewen came to speak to students about Prison University Project at San Quentin State Prison in California. She described her own path from HM to graduate school to a PhD in rhetoric and finally landing as the executive director of this project. She started as a volunteer during graduate school and as she described it, "if you follow the things that feel right it all comes together."
As I listened to Jody talk about how hard it is to humanize the prisoner in conversations about what is needed and why programs such as this are important, about the culture of prisons that they need to talk about during teacher training, and about the challenge of helping prospective teachers confront their own personal biases and stereotypes about prisoners, I was hearing so many parallels to my conversations with graduate students about teaching young children. A common thread was the idea of holding ourselves accountable for the ideas, impressions, and assumptions we bring to a group of people who have been made invisible by society or who have been hidden from us behind a deep stereotype.
Jody talked about the gang culture of prisons, but also about the ways in which this Associates Degree program has been shifting culture. She discussed the impact the program is having not only on the prisoners who are receiving an education, but also on those who are in contact with or living among those prisoners. With one in ten prisoners in the program it has great potential to bring about true cultural change.
This conversation brought to mind Carla Shalaby's idea that schools are simply places where we teach children to go to school and that discipline parallels the punitive nature of prison discipline. Perhaps this is true about education as well. Do we need to train teachers in both cases about culture and bias first to develop an educational program that counteracts the forces that impact the human condition of being incarcerated or being young in our society? Do we need to convince funders of the value of educating these two groups of people as a humane and imperative act rather than a preparation for participation in society in roles defined for them by society?
As I listened to Jody talk about how hard it is to humanize the prisoner in conversations about what is needed and why programs such as this are important, about the culture of prisons that they need to talk about during teacher training, and about the challenge of helping prospective teachers confront their own personal biases and stereotypes about prisoners, I was hearing so many parallels to my conversations with graduate students about teaching young children. A common thread was the idea of holding ourselves accountable for the ideas, impressions, and assumptions we bring to a group of people who have been made invisible by society or who have been hidden from us behind a deep stereotype.
Jody talked about the gang culture of prisons, but also about the ways in which this Associates Degree program has been shifting culture. She discussed the impact the program is having not only on the prisoners who are receiving an education, but also on those who are in contact with or living among those prisoners. With one in ten prisoners in the program it has great potential to bring about true cultural change.
This conversation brought to mind Carla Shalaby's idea that schools are simply places where we teach children to go to school and that discipline parallels the punitive nature of prison discipline. Perhaps this is true about education as well. Do we need to train teachers in both cases about culture and bias first to develop an educational program that counteracts the forces that impact the human condition of being incarcerated or being young in our society? Do we need to convince funders of the value of educating these two groups of people as a humane and imperative act rather than a preparation for participation in society in roles defined for them by society?
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Rochester weekend
Breakfast at Mad Hatter on Friday with Pam. She is researching the history of the delta trying to better understand an area where her father grew up. Two books recommended to her by an employee at the Cotton Museum in Memphis, TN: Empire of Cotton: A Global History by Harvard history professor Sven Beckert and Rising Tide: The Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 and How it Changed America by John Berry.
Saturday, dropped the car at Zeibart in Canandaigua for the annual undercoating. Had the interior steam cleaned. The exerior coated to protect the paint. On the way back to Fairport, we stopped at the Pittsford Farmer's Market, browsed the lumber store and bought a piece of olive wood to make a cheese board. Stopped to buy beeswax wraps from a woman who makes them locally, www.Weslee Rose.com. Stopped for a cupcake and coffee.
Visited Dad at FBH and spent some time cleaning up and editing the family tree. We ended up with a list of people he didn't recognize, but as soon as we were done he started to tell me stories. "You should write these down..." He talked about his grandparents and his father's sister who was much younger than his father and who helped raise the children after his mother died. Later in the evening when I returned from picking up the car he didn't seem anxious to get to bed. For a second night he hadn't gone out to change the calendar that hangs in the lounge, a job he's done every days for four years. He said he can't remember the date when he goes from his room where he has a calendar to the lounge. He said he told the woman who made the calendar that he couldn't do it. We went out for the second night and changed the date. Left after 9pm.
Saturday, dropped the car at Zeibart in Canandaigua for the annual undercoating. Had the interior steam cleaned. The exerior coated to protect the paint. On the way back to Fairport, we stopped at the Pittsford Farmer's Market, browsed the lumber store and bought a piece of olive wood to make a cheese board. Stopped to buy beeswax wraps from a woman who makes them locally, www.Weslee Rose.com. Stopped for a cupcake and coffee.
Visited Dad at FBH and spent some time cleaning up and editing the family tree. We ended up with a list of people he didn't recognize, but as soon as we were done he started to tell me stories. "You should write these down..." He talked about his grandparents and his father's sister who was much younger than his father and who helped raise the children after his mother died. Later in the evening when I returned from picking up the car he didn't seem anxious to get to bed. For a second night he hadn't gone out to change the calendar that hangs in the lounge, a job he's done every days for four years. He said he can't remember the date when he goes from his room where he has a calendar to the lounge. He said he told the woman who made the calendar that he couldn't do it. We went out for the second night and changed the date. Left after 9pm.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Yarn and books
Saugerties, NY, located between the foot of the Catskill Mountains and the Hudson River and just across the river from Rhinebeck. It was a beautiful morning on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement; the day that my Godmother, Amy, died in 1996. It felt like a good day to take a slower drive up to Rochester along the Hudson and check out a new town.
The exit off the highway leads right into the Main Street of Saugerties, about two hours from Riverdale and an hour north of the turnoff for Route 17. Turned onto Main Street and then circled around a block to find parking. Discovered The Perfect Blend, Yarn & Tea Shop at 50 Market Street. The shop occupies two storefronts and there are yarns filling shelves along all the walls and through the center of the store. In the back room three women were working at a knitting table. The woman who greeted me mentioned the Sheep and Wood Festival in Rhinebeck coming up on October 20-21 and then mentioned that the Indie Untangled, the kickoff to the Festival, was taking place in Saugerties that Friday. I mentioned the one memory that sticks with me from my last visit to the Festival, the woman who spins wool from her live rabbit. "Oh, she works here on Mondays and Tuesdays!"
Walking down Main Street I saw the other store that caught my attention, Inquiring Minds Bookstore & Coffee House. A large corner property filled with books, seating and a coffee shop in the back. Children's books on the shelves near the entrance, NY Times on the coffee table by the seating, good coffee.
Stopped in a natural food shop and bought some snacks to take to Ellen's and headed north for Sodus. Arrived in Rochester around 9pm and spent my first night in my apartment. Mental list: a rug for the livingroom, rug for the bedroom and a place to sit in the kitchen.
The exit off the highway leads right into the Main Street of Saugerties, about two hours from Riverdale and an hour north of the turnoff for Route 17. Turned onto Main Street and then circled around a block to find parking. Discovered The Perfect Blend, Yarn & Tea Shop at 50 Market Street. The shop occupies two storefronts and there are yarns filling shelves along all the walls and through the center of the store. In the back room three women were working at a knitting table. The woman who greeted me mentioned the Sheep and Wood Festival in Rhinebeck coming up on October 20-21 and then mentioned that the Indie Untangled, the kickoff to the Festival, was taking place in Saugerties that Friday. I mentioned the one memory that sticks with me from my last visit to the Festival, the woman who spins wool from her live rabbit. "Oh, she works here on Mondays and Tuesdays!"
Walking down Main Street I saw the other store that caught my attention, Inquiring Minds Bookstore & Coffee House. A large corner property filled with books, seating and a coffee shop in the back. Children's books on the shelves near the entrance, NY Times on the coffee table by the seating, good coffee.
Stopped in a natural food shop and bought some snacks to take to Ellen's and headed north for Sodus. Arrived in Rochester around 9pm and spent my first night in my apartment. Mental list: a rug for the livingroom, rug for the bedroom and a place to sit in the kitchen.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
A new normal
I went into my underwear drawer this morning and pulled out Felicity's monkey shirt. The peek-a-boo face was smiling up at me! Happily there is no erasing the traces of a summer's visit. The claw machine teddy bear has landed on my bed looking like a placeholder.
It has been a beautiful Sunday and I started as I have so many Sundays before, seeking peace and meditation in gardening. I am realizing that I have been holding out for a feeling of normalcy; searching even while knowing that what I want normal to be is not hidden somewhere to be found.
I headed out to the garden to weed and tidy and clip away overgrown plants freeing up the paths we created so long ago for children to run through. The lavender is full still with some flowers. The grasses I brought back from the country after a visit with Martha and Harvey, a plant I almost pulled out thinking it would never come back, has rejuvenated and is sprouting slim green blades of tall grass. The marigolds have multiplied and ensure that we will have oranges and yellows into fall. The fig trees are very full with leaves, but sadly no figs. They are quite bushy so perhaps I haven't nurtured them to trees after all these years. They seem quite hardy as they have returned each year with beautiful greenery.
Denise and I went up to the farmer's market and I loved the chance to pick out just enough tasties to last until I leave for Rochester on Wed. We stopped for coffee at Buunni and discovered that the balcony was filled with blue grass musicians jamming on a Sunday morning. I was reminded that I need to get back to my violin if I am ever going to learn to fiddle. So, I returned home to practice violin with Violinlab and then headed out once more to buy the Sunday Times. It took me right near the Moss Cafe so I sat inside in the air conditioning with a flat white and read the paper. Came home to clean out another room; this time the library. I am sad that I didn't do it before Emma and Henry used it this summer, but it is now airy and much tidier. I am lightening the load of the house one step at a time in preparation for my salon.
It's just about 6:30pm and I am going to find the evening news hoping that something miraculous and hopeful will be reported. It would be so nice.
It has been a beautiful Sunday and I started as I have so many Sundays before, seeking peace and meditation in gardening. I am realizing that I have been holding out for a feeling of normalcy; searching even while knowing that what I want normal to be is not hidden somewhere to be found.
I headed out to the garden to weed and tidy and clip away overgrown plants freeing up the paths we created so long ago for children to run through. The lavender is full still with some flowers. The grasses I brought back from the country after a visit with Martha and Harvey, a plant I almost pulled out thinking it would never come back, has rejuvenated and is sprouting slim green blades of tall grass. The marigolds have multiplied and ensure that we will have oranges and yellows into fall. The fig trees are very full with leaves, but sadly no figs. They are quite bushy so perhaps I haven't nurtured them to trees after all these years. They seem quite hardy as they have returned each year with beautiful greenery.
Denise and I went up to the farmer's market and I loved the chance to pick out just enough tasties to last until I leave for Rochester on Wed. We stopped for coffee at Buunni and discovered that the balcony was filled with blue grass musicians jamming on a Sunday morning. I was reminded that I need to get back to my violin if I am ever going to learn to fiddle. So, I returned home to practice violin with Violinlab and then headed out once more to buy the Sunday Times. It took me right near the Moss Cafe so I sat inside in the air conditioning with a flat white and read the paper. Came home to clean out another room; this time the library. I am sad that I didn't do it before Emma and Henry used it this summer, but it is now airy and much tidier. I am lightening the load of the house one step at a time in preparation for my salon.
It's just about 6:30pm and I am going to find the evening news hoping that something miraculous and hopeful will be reported. It would be so nice.
Friday, September 14, 2018
Humid
it has been uncomfortably humid for several days; not summer, not fall. Someone remarked yesterday that we hadn’t seen the sun since the start of the week. The air has been heavy with moisture under a white sky.
I was speaking with a parent I met in the Nursery ten years ago and he was describing to me the diversity work taking place in his investment bank. The initiatives are primarily centered on advancing women and he had just learned the shift one company was making from mentoring to advocacy. Thinking about the need women have for advocates who can help to create an upward path by identifying what they need to do and alerting others that they are coming through. It’s an interesting shift from thinking about support as just holding someone up through coaching or leading the way through mentoring. Clearing the environment of obstacles seems a worthy undertaking.
I was speaking with a parent I met in the Nursery ten years ago and he was describing to me the diversity work taking place in his investment bank. The initiatives are primarily centered on advancing women and he had just learned the shift one company was making from mentoring to advocacy. Thinking about the need women have for advocates who can help to create an upward path by identifying what they need to do and alerting others that they are coming through. It’s an interesting shift from thinking about support as just holding someone up through coaching or leading the way through mentoring. Clearing the environment of obstacles seems a worthy undertaking.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Primary election day
Today, I voted in the mid-term elections. The polling station is on the fifth floor of the new Manhattan College building; the one with the Starbucks in the lower level. For the first time, the volunteer turned to the last page of the voter registration book and Gregory's name was gone. I was the only Zuroski on the list, last in the alphabet. It takes a long time to disappear from public records.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Coming home
Before Dolly passed away she said to her children, "Don't let your dad get weird." She meant don't leave him alone too much. Don't let him do things just his way. He liked to putter and often disappeared from sight after dinner, driving around in his pick-up truck or sitting out in the garage or walking up to the Point.
Coming home last night after a glorious summer of rooming with Felicity and spending my days with Emma and her children I realized that I was still struggling with this state of being alone. It's not that I don't cherish the privacy and freedom of movement, but it is easy to settle into one's own head and not seek or remain open to others. I still need to find the balance.
I arrived in Newark Airport at 11:45pm and by the time I'd picked up the car at an off-site parking lot and driven home through the Holland Tunnel and up the Henry Hudson Parkway, it was 2am. I had been hesitant to walk back into a house strewn with bits and pieces of Emma's departure; diapers, toys, summer clothes and a whole line of outgrown shoes.
However, I walked in the door and felt a new energy and resolve. After seeing Connie in her new home talking about renovations and not waiting too long to create the home she wants and seeing Cordelia's house high up on the mountain outside of LA and overlooking the Pacific coast and Margate Canyon knowing she is about to leave it after 40 years to live in a condominium closer to her new grandchild in Northern California, I knew I had to find my own momentum and really move forward.
I've kept busy for five years, but have pretty much stayed still; working around the things I didn't want to change and creating newness, some sustainable and some not. I moved the dining room table back into the dining room. The space in the front hallway is refreshing.
Coming home last night after a glorious summer of rooming with Felicity and spending my days with Emma and her children I realized that I was still struggling with this state of being alone. It's not that I don't cherish the privacy and freedom of movement, but it is easy to settle into one's own head and not seek or remain open to others. I still need to find the balance.
I arrived in Newark Airport at 11:45pm and by the time I'd picked up the car at an off-site parking lot and driven home through the Holland Tunnel and up the Henry Hudson Parkway, it was 2am. I had been hesitant to walk back into a house strewn with bits and pieces of Emma's departure; diapers, toys, summer clothes and a whole line of outgrown shoes.
I've kept busy for five years, but have pretty much stayed still; working around the things I didn't want to change and creating newness, some sustainable and some not. I moved the dining room table back into the dining room. The space in the front hallway is refreshing.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Saying good bye is never easy
We arrived in Los Angeles just before 7pm, 20 minutes early for a flight that left Newark Airport at 4:30pm, EST. It was futile to try to convince Felicity that her nap time had passed as we drove down the NJ Turnpike and that her bedtime had arrived several hours into the flight even though all the shades in the plane were down to block out the bright sunshine. She watched her favoritee shows on Emma’s iPad and on the screen at her seat. She ate pretzels and walked the aisle, unpacked her monkey bag to spread her things out on the floor at our feet. She sat in my lap and lounged in her seat. She did everything but sleep.
We walked the long, long corridors leading from the arrival terminal to the international terminal without having to leave the secured areas of the terminal. It took almost 30 minutes, much of it with Felicity running. “Come, run, PoPo!” Gate 142 was in the far end of the Northern Corridor and as we headed toward it I remembered my last trip to NZ and the chaotic gathering of passengers in what appears to be an afterthought to the main terminal. It’s an area that is only serviced by buses that take you to another terminal and another ramp and another long walk up to the planes.
We made a stop to change diapers and put on Felicity’s and Henry’s pajamas, bought some food for dinner and still, Felicity couldn’t settle down to sleep. We had a 2.5 hour wait and as Emma and I lost energy, Felicity dined on m&ms, chocolate being her favorite food. Finally, at 9:30pm they started boarding. With two children, two substantial carry-ons and a monkey backpack, Emma headed off for the shuttle bus. She had wanted a long, calm good bye and with many final hugs and kisses, there was not a moment to express the sadness that sets in right behind the good feeling of time together because as soon as I leaned in for the first hug Felicity perked up, waved and declared, “Bye, bye, PoPo!”
As I write I hope they are close to arrival in Auckland. With luggage pick-up and customs the true magnitude of this journey between NY and Auckland becomes clear. Yesterday at 9 am, 24 hours ago, Emma woke up to finish packing. She has been on the go ever since.
We walked the long, long corridors leading from the arrival terminal to the international terminal without having to leave the secured areas of the terminal. It took almost 30 minutes, much of it with Felicity running. “Come, run, PoPo!” Gate 142 was in the far end of the Northern Corridor and as we headed toward it I remembered my last trip to NZ and the chaotic gathering of passengers in what appears to be an afterthought to the main terminal. It’s an area that is only serviced by buses that take you to another terminal and another ramp and another long walk up to the planes.
We made a stop to change diapers and put on Felicity’s and Henry’s pajamas, bought some food for dinner and still, Felicity couldn’t settle down to sleep. We had a 2.5 hour wait and as Emma and I lost energy, Felicity dined on m&ms, chocolate being her favorite food. Finally, at 9:30pm they started boarding. With two children, two substantial carry-ons and a monkey backpack, Emma headed off for the shuttle bus. She had wanted a long, calm good bye and with many final hugs and kisses, there was not a moment to express the sadness that sets in right behind the good feeling of time together because as soon as I leaned in for the first hug Felicity perked up, waved and declared, “Bye, bye, PoPo!”
As I write I hope they are close to arrival in Auckland. With luggage pick-up and customs the true magnitude of this journey between NY and Auckland becomes clear. Yesterday at 9 am, 24 hours ago, Emma woke up to finish packing. She has been on the go ever since.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Summer ending
It was an uneventful and quick ride home to NYC. We stopped to see Dad and talked about a few more of the many cards he received. He particularly liked one from a calligraphy friend. He was urgent to tell us that the woman, Florence, who moved in during the past year at 103 years of age had passed away. She was 104. We lost one of our group, he said. Though he doesn't appear to pay much attention to anyone he does seem to like the routine of eating with the same people and has learned something about each person.
It is blistering hot in NYC and everywhere. We watched the temperature outside climb from the high 70's up into the 90's by the time we reached NYC. Emma wants to take the kids into the city on the subway tomorrow and I can't even imagine setting foot underground right now.
Felicity talked a lot of the last hours of the trip today and we noted how much of her language has changed and deeloped since early July. She asks us to sing Mary Chip (May Had a Little Lamb) over and over again and doesn't seem to care that we make up verses just to keep the tune going. She said "my turn" today and still uses "I'm fine." when she wants you to ignore her.
Henry has become increasingly discontent with the car rides and cried his way home for the last hour or so. And yet, when he is fed and awake he is always cheerful and pleasant. He has taken to nesting in Pat's arms to watch sports.
Today was Ruby's first day of First Grade. She rode the bus to school by herself. I love that her new backpack is about as big as she is.
It is blistering hot in NYC and everywhere. We watched the temperature outside climb from the high 70's up into the 90's by the time we reached NYC. Emma wants to take the kids into the city on the subway tomorrow and I can't even imagine setting foot underground right now.
Felicity talked a lot of the last hours of the trip today and we noted how much of her language has changed and deeloped since early July. She asks us to sing Mary Chip (May Had a Little Lamb) over and over again and doesn't seem to care that we make up verses just to keep the tune going. She said "my turn" today and still uses "I'm fine." when she wants you to ignore her.
Henry has become increasingly discontent with the car rides and cried his way home for the last hour or so. And yet, when he is fed and awake he is always cheerful and pleasant. He has taken to nesting in Pat's arms to watch sports.
Today was Ruby's first day of First Grade. She rode the bus to school by herself. I love that her new backpack is about as big as she is.
Monday, September 3, 2018
Last day of summer break
Labor Day 2018
Today we end a full and long summer of vacationing and visiting and celebrating family. We left the Conesus Lake house that Pat and Kathryn rented for the holiday weekend at 10am to return to Rochester for one more night. There is satisfaction in leaving a rental clean and tidy, but also a bit of nostalgia for all that has taken place so intensely over just a few days. The juice from the lobsters, a highlight of the all-day clam bake, was still on the metal table this morning. The half-finished puzzle begged to have a few more pieces in place and remnants of meals and baked goods, including the cookies that greeted us on Friday to welcome us to the house, were good for one more consideration before packing up the refrigerator. We stopped at FBH on the way to the apartment and then settled in for a quiet day. By afternoon, a walk around the Park Avenue neighborhood with Henry and Felicity gave Emma a chance to nap and Kathryn and me a chance to play. We discovered a children's sculpture garden at School #23 and a giant pig on the steps of a real estate office.
Today we end a full and long summer of vacationing and visiting and celebrating family. We left the Conesus Lake house that Pat and Kathryn rented for the holiday weekend at 10am to return to Rochester for one more night. There is satisfaction in leaving a rental clean and tidy, but also a bit of nostalgia for all that has taken place so intensely over just a few days. The juice from the lobsters, a highlight of the all-day clam bake, was still on the metal table this morning. The half-finished puzzle begged to have a few more pieces in place and remnants of meals and baked goods, including the cookies that greeted us on Friday to welcome us to the house, were good for one more consideration before packing up the refrigerator. We stopped at FBH on the way to the apartment and then settled in for a quiet day. By afternoon, a walk around the Park Avenue neighborhood with Henry and Felicity gave Emma a chance to nap and Kathryn and me a chance to play. We discovered a children's sculpture garden at School #23 and a giant pig on the steps of a real estate office.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
100th birthday
There is something certain about the change of seasons. This morning I woke up on the shore of Lake Conesus in Livonia where Kathryn and Pat have rented a house for the holiday weekend. Sitting down for my morning coffee, I was greet by the gentle lapping of the lake and the silent fluttering of leaves from the mimosa tree above; tiny leaf flakes drifting down to the water. It’s September 1st.
Yesterday we celebrated Dad’s 100th birthday. “One year older,” he said. We saw him at lunch time and again at dinner. During the afternoon a group of us including his nephew and his family who have come to Rochester from Beijing took a tour of the Erie Canal. Felicity loved the lock and listened attentively to the maneuvering of the boat into the lock applauding as the gate closed behind us.
Yesterday we celebrated Dad’s 100th birthday. “One year older,” he said. We saw him at lunch time and again at dinner. During the afternoon a group of us including his nephew and his family who have come to Rochester from Beijing took a tour of the Erie Canal. Felicity loved the lock and listened attentively to the maneuvering of the boat into the lock applauding as the gate closed behind us.
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