Ghosts of Pastas Past

Look! Up in the window! There they are! 

Giant incarnations of all the pasta I've cooked

and eaten. Now though, once they've finished stalking me,

they will roll, hop, and squiggle,

perambulating each in their own fashion from

the Chase mezzanine, to cook me al dente,

then cover me with their own "special sauce."

I don't think I'd mind that sort of demise,

as long as I'm covered with a light coating of

fresh pesto and some nice, grated cheese.

It's A Party!

Early Saturday afternoon, while waiting downtown for a bus, 

I looked up to see a herd of nicely dressed people 

approaching from across the street. They were being led by

a casually dressed woman carrying a camera.

Given that only one of the women was wearing white and that

the other women were clad in identically colored gowns,

I quickly surmised the people formed a wedding party, in the

process of having pictures taken of the event and

their participation.

The women's dresses had the distinct quality

of not looking like bridesmaids' dresses, those notoriously

hideously styled and colored nightmares of legend.

The bride had also selected a beautiful color combination

for her wedding flowers; they made for lovely

bouquets and boutonnieres

The sunlight gave the Federal Court Building 

a warm aura, making the site a pleasant background 

for the delicate chiffon, silk, and flowers.

Afterward, the ladies picked up the hems of their gowns and,

trailed by the men, the photographer led her

charges back across the street, returning in the direction

from which they had come, trailing a happy mood

and a few moments of prettiness behind them.

Chevrons and Serrated Edges

When I look at buildings, I don't generally see "building," 

I see shapes, patterns, and colors. That certainly was true 

the other night: I happened to look up to see that the familiar 

shapes of the Chase Bank building at the bottom, 

and the Federal Court Building in the upper right corner, 

had become serrated edges against the evening sky.

The building on the southeast corner had 

acquired a deep plum and blue plaid design, 

accented with chevrons

The Saddest Good-bye

The men above are members of the Speedway Fire Department. 

They are standing to salute the passing funeral cortege of

Officer Rod Bradway, a member of the Indianapolis Metropolitan 

Police Department, who was killed in the line of duty 

on Friday, September 20.
Officers from all over the country came to pay their respects
to a fallen comrade, some to attend the ceremony,
others to stand in for local police so that they could 
attend the services. There were at least a thousand cars,
preceded by an equal number of motorcycle units.

The procession was scheduled to leave the downtown area
at around 1 p.m., then travel across town to pass by
Officer Bradway's westside station and at the Wayne Township 
fire station where he had been a firefighter 
and EMT before joining the IMPD.

People began to line Lynhurst Drive not long after
the funeral services were complete, bringing with them flags
and signs to show their support for the man and his family.

The men shown below are practicing their role,
saluting the cortege as it passes Speedway Fire Station
Number 2 on Lynhurst Drive. In addition to their
participation, the men were on regular duty;
during the time the procession was passing, they actually
went on two separate runs. Others in their unit
quietly and efficiently stepped in to take their posts
while they were away.

The sad reason for this funeral, this procession, was because
Officer Bradway answered a call reporting domestic
violence at a westside apartment complex. Not long after his arrival
at the woman's home, he called for back-up. The woman's
screams of terror increased and the policeman
entered, only to be met by the assailant, who shot him
from the side, where his protective vest did not cover.
The second officer, who'd just arrived, entered right behind,
trading shots with the assailant, shooting and killing him.
But Officer Bradway was dead, having put the lives of a young
woman and her ten-month old baby ahead of his own.

Of all the calls police get, ones involving domestic abuse
are the runs they most dread. They are situations fraught with
volatile emotions, raging hormones and tempers - and, very often
guns or other weapons. The situations are always changing,
dangerous for everyone involved.
As a woman, I want to know what it is about men and their
need to control women? We fight sexual discrimination every day
in the workplace, the media, and in our relationships because men
assume they are entitled to control us and every aspect
of our lives. Why do they also feel the need to beat us, to threaten
us, to demean us, - all the while calling it love?

Because of this a good man has died, leaving a bereaved
woman and two teen-aged children. Another woman and her child
live, but with life-long emotional trauma. Yet another family,
that of the killer, live with the eternal shame of having 
a son and brother who made bad decisions; recently released
from prison, the killer was not supposed to have weapons,
but, of course, he did. It's entirely possible there may not be enough
money to pay for his burial.
It's an ugly story, too often repeated, one for which there
does not seem to be a good ending - just losses and
unhappiness for everyone concerned.

Sky Mosaic

The fact that the J.W. Marriott Hotel is called "Big Blue"

is probably no surprise. The glass-clad building

is slightly curved, so it is not just a big box on the skyline.

Its surface looks more like a mosaic than

it does a mirror, showing us the beauty of the sky

rather than just reflecting it back at us.

It's as though a skilled tile setter installed 

the expanse, his hand adding 

an artist's touch to each piece of glass.

On this day, we got a watercolor sky. 

Looking East at the Sunset

Again, waiting for the bus at the corner of Ohio and 

Pennsylvania Streets on Tuesday evening, 

I was sitting in the shadows of the Federal Court Building 

when I noticed the shapes and colors made by the setting sun 

on the windows and marble sheathing of the

Regions Bank across the street.

Slammed Shut

Monday evening, while waiting for the bus home, 

I looked up at the bank building across the street 

to see it splotched with the orange glow 

from the setting sun. Just a week or so ago,

the sun would have been bathing the white stone

of the building. But now, it seems as though

fall, if not exactly slamming shut the door to summer,

has left the door ajar to allow the cool breezes

to infiltrate, and to only let a patch of the

sun to sneak through.

Beacon

These photos were taken around 7 a.m. Saturday, 

while waiting for the bus to go downtown.

There wasn't much traffic at that time of the morning and,

while the light seemed a bit purple, it was actually

a bit darker, making the street lamp

a welcome beacon. The daggone thing provides

just enough light to help me navigate 

the sidewalks and curbs as I begin my work days,

and again at night, as I find my way home.

Just Another Saturday

For the past few Saturdays, I've been getting up early 

to go swimming at a high school pool

on the northeast side of Indy. I waited for the second bus 

at the Federal Court building on Ohio Street. 

It was coolish, but the sun was bright

and I enjoyed the quiet time to watch the city wake up.

On work week mornings, Indy bustles with the frenetic disorder

of people trying to get to work, making time to just enjoy 

the light and the colors a bit more difficult. 

At the pool, I joined a batch of other masters swimmers, 

all of them better and more experienced, 

for an hour and a half of drills and routines 

designed to make us stronger and faster swimmers. 

The first session was miserable, the second 

session even worse, but today was just long.

However, for whatever reason, I did enjoy it,

and I will return, even if to just have the excuse

to be able to be downtown early on Saturdays.

Rainy Evening

It was a rainy evening in downtown Indy,

with warm temperatures and gentle showers.

People went about their business,

either returning home from work or,

like the couple below, approaching the entrance 

of the Circle Theatre for the gala opening

of the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra's

fall season. 

Below, a group of young men prepares to park 

patrons' cars at a nearby garage

Sneaked In

I woke up early this morning to the sounds of thunder 

overhead and rain splashing against my windows.

It was a welcome sound because we've been a bit short 

of rainfall lately, but when I looked out the

front window, I saw that fall had sneaked in; the trees showed 

yellow against the dark gray of the storm clouds.

Dark Blue Shirt

What is this game we play, you and I?

Two people who like each other,

yet who are afraid ... of what?

Like a fogged window, 
where I wiped my hand to clear the view, 
I saw you and every one 

else blurred into the mist.

You watch the distant skyline,

wrapped in the cold wisp of fantasy

where love is constant, 
never changing, carrying no risks, 

where the promise of an errant breeze 

is proxy for the warmth 
of a loving touch.

I saw you in your dark blue shirt,

sleeves rolled above your wrists

and longed to feel the warmth 
of your hand on my own,
the scratchy growth of your beard

against my lips 
as I lean in to kiss your cheek.

I want to love you, to arouse you,

to hold you for my own, and to set you free

for the warmth of love in reality.

The Blush of Fall

A co-worker thoughtfully brought these pears to work.

Their colors are beautiful and inviting.

I love the way the yellow green blends into

the blushing pink on their sides.

I even kinda like the scratchy texture of their skins.

The aroma teases me,

making me want to bite them 

for their juicy flavor.

However, their creamy white flesh 

is too mealy for me;

I do not like pears.

Textured Tuesday: Sucker Punched by the Sun

Every morning I go to work, I wait for the bus at the corner 

of Capitol and Ohio Streets. And every morning

I look eastward to see whether my bus is approaching.

The architecture along Ohio Street is not enthralling, just the

usual arrangement of row upon row of windows and granite,

but what happens to those windows when the sun 

is reflected from their surfaces just about knocks me down.

Some days the light is orange, on others it is pink, and yet

others a golden yellow. The light creates a series of plaid

patterns, woven multi-hued rays of golden light

that entertain me until I board my bus 

and continue on to work.

Jazzfest Comes to Speedway!

Finally! After fifteen years the Indy Jazz Fest found its way to Speedway!

The Farrelly/Mankiewicz Jazz Quartet made an appearance

on Speedway's Main Street at the Dallara Indy Car Factory, where

hundreds of interested and enthusiastic supporters enjoyed

the quartet's music under the clear evening sky.

It is hoped that the success of the evening will result

in expanded participation in next year's event.

Saxophonist Jim Farrelly is shown above during set-up

for the performance.

The Jazz Fest began in 1999 as an effort to provide a venue 

to display and encourage the city's rich jazz heritage,

and to provide tourists with an experience outside 

of Indy's sports events. After a rocky start due to unforseen 

weather events, the festival was eventually reorganized 

as a non-profit foundation with an educational

initiative that takes jazz into the public school system.

Children from all walks of life have been exposed to the art form

as a result of this initiative. In addition to ten days of 

concerts all over the community, Indy Jazz Foundation

works to preserve the legacy and future of jazz

music in Indianapolis through year-round

education and performances.

In addition to the support of Dallara, Lino's Coffee also contributed 

to the success of the event. In fact, their barristas, bartenders,

and cooks were overwhelmed by the flow of customers, most

of whom who were extremely patient with the store's staff.

Patrons enjoy the quality of the store's food and beverage offerings,

and most were willing to wait the extra time to receive service.

Welcome Signs

In a nearby Speedway neighborhood, the homeowners 

have installed a picket fence with a front gate 

showing silhouettes of the pineapples 

on the gateposts, welcoming visitors to their home. 

Swimming ...

This photo was taken Thursday evening at about 8 PM 

as my bus traveled west over the White River Bridge at 10th Street.

After I'd completed work I went to the Natatorium to swim for

an hour. Last week, my swimming didn't go as well as I'd

have liked; I couldn't get my stroke co-ordinated or complete

a lap without pausing to reconnoiter my position, so to speak,

and have been a bit discouraged and depressed as a result.
After I told my coach about my difficulties and concerns,
he assigned me to swim 1200 meters, in 100 meter increments.

This is not a difficult task for an experienced swimmer,
but it was new territory for me. He set my interval times then sent
me off and I spent the rest of the hour swimming up and down 
the length of the pool, catching my breath after each completed lap,
then doing it over again. At the end of the evening,
I'd completed about three-quarters of a mile.
I was tired, but the man I'd given permission to kill me
in sixty minute sessions did not do that. 
Instead, he'd asked me to stretch myself a bit, to have
a bit of confidence in myself, and to just ... keep going.

Stuff I Saw

These pictures were taken outside two different homes, 

though in adjacent neighborhoods. By coincidence,

the colors in both images are similar -- red, tan, and green.

Although I liked the position of the lamp

in the window shown in the bottom image, the sight

of the black wire snaking its way from the roof eave, around

the window to the connection box is discouraging.

Couldn't they have at least used tan or beige wire? 

Signs

My recent cupcake odyssey gave me a lot of opportunities for pictures 

of various kinds -- old brickwork, new construction, 

and street signage at its most prosaic.

Two versions of the little profile man are shown 

in the top and middle photos. The economy may be stagnant,

but construction projects are plentiful; the mobile shacks

reflected above and the work shown below are just a small bit

of the numerous projects in downtown Indy. 

The traffic downtown is inexcusable for a city our size. 

The numerous attempts to address the sorry state of

the local public transportation system have always sounded like 

lip service falling on unhearing ears; people have become 

so dependent on their autos that there doesn't seem 

to be a viable way to wean them from their gas-guzzling ways

and the city fathers are making too much money from car owners

via fuel, upkeep, taxes, insurance and parking fees.

But their self-serving negligence is beginning 

to bite them in the ass, as increasing demands for better 

and more buses, more bike routes and facilities

show how far behind we are compared to other cities. 

Talking Bricks

A couple weeks ago, I took myself on an odyssey to get a treat

from The Flying Cupcake shop on Massachusetts Avenue.

I didn't walk a straight line up the street to  the bakery, 

but one more like the flight path of a monarch butterfly as I

took the opportunity to explore a few of the alleyways.

I enjoy looking at old brick, seeing the oxidation and wear

time has made on the structures. In fact, I feel as though I can

even smell the bricks; on sunny days it seems as though

the bricks are telling me their stories in the clay-ey

aromas radiating from their surfaces.

Last Roses

Just when you think they're done, the weather came up 

with a respite for roses. These are outside a nearby church, 

but similar brethren can be seen all over town. 

The bushes hold tight, unopened buds, newly bloomed

flowers, as well as tired and faded blooms.

I liked the range of color, and the way the flowers 

were set off against the brick wall.

Winter's Banquet

I forget that the year-round birds need to eat, too, when winter comes.

So I was startled when I turned a corner near home 

to see this tree full of berries, it's complementary colors of red 

and green glowing brightly in the sun.

Later, after the leaves have dropped away, the berries

will turn brown, providing a food source

for robins when the winter temperatures drive bugs 

and worms deeper underground.

Men in ... Oops! Check That ... Men Filling Holes

A new hole! It looked as though it had just been cut and the crew 

was getting ready to install another section of water line.

I was on my way to a swimming session and could not stop,

intending to pester the men with questions about the new line,

as well as the fire hydrant, afterwards.

Two hours later, I came out to find that not only had

the pipe been installed, but the hole was filled and ... and ...

and they were cleaning the cement truck!

OMG! Another missed opportunity!

All with the help of their beautiful assistant, Clarice.

(I made up the part about her name. There was 

a "Clarence" at the other end of the project.)