I collect old architecture and design books on ebay and consider among my favorites the 1910 publication entitled “Distinctive Homes of Moderate Cost”.  It’s a fascinating trip through history to see the types of homes in Sedgwick, Berkeley Park and Strathmore when they were considered “modern”.  Even more unbelieveable is what inflation has done to the cost of a house.  Most of these magnificent structures, in materials and craftsmanship that do not exist today except for Scrap Metal mogul Adam Weitsman’s stunner in Skaneateles, cost about $4,500 to construct 100 years ago.

Pretty enough to live in, a garage in Syracuse circa 1910

I was particularly taken with the chapter devoted to garages for both the evolution of their use and for the photograph of a garage in Syracuse!  All the other dozens of photos in the book are of homes throughout America.  But we got our mention, with a garage designed by architect Alfred T. Taylor that is prettier than many of the homes being built today.

Consider the introduction to the chapter, where it is clear automobiles are becoming nearly as popular as the horse and carriage, not to mention it is only the men who give any thought to the subject at all.

“There was a time when the city man, if inveigled from his customary habitat into visiting his suburban or country friend, was invited sooner or later to inspect the stables, see the horses, and look over the vehicles and other paraphernalia of comfortable or uncomfortable country road travel.  From this era we are passing to the newer one, that of garage, motoring and automobile, which supplants in the conversation between host and guest, talk of carriage, horse and stable.”

“In many country places the stable is still kept and the private garage is erected as frequently as an entirely separate building; and again in new places, particularly when the size of the lot is limited, the garage is planned as a part of the dwelling.”

In other words, in 1910 garages that were part of the house were not ideal, and only built that way when the lot was too small for a separate structure.  Builders could not yet see the benefit of getting the groceries, or anything for that matter,  from the car to the house without going outdoors.

Here’s one of my favorite passages which some builders today have forgotten: “The garage lends itself delightfully as an architectural element…  The plan of having it but one story high subordinates it to the house.”

I’ve seen many garages built today that are equal in height to the rest of the house which throws off the proportion of the whole thing.

Here is what the authors suggest is an ideal garage design in 1910:

“Unless there is a separate work room a work bench about four feet wide at one side of the room is a necessity.  A window should be over it with an electric light conveniently arranged for night repairs, and a sink with hot and cold water connections built in at one end. This will be found a great convenience while repairing tires”.

Check out the dude fixing his car from a pit in the floor

“A shelf below makes a suitable place to store tires, and a closet for storing gears, springs and other duplicate and sundry parts should be near at hand.  The location of the washing stand follows generally the arrangement of a carriage wash in a stable.  It is advisable however, to have the whole floor of the garage sloped to the one or more floor drains”.

“A revolving overhead wash, fitted with an electric light will be found most useful.  Closets with poles, hooks and drawers for the storage of rugs, coats, and other accessories should be at hand.  The attic can be arranged for the storage of tops, usually, and other large parts not in use.  A hand elevator will be found a great convenience for lifting these heavy articles and can be put in at a small cost”.  Are you entirely charmed by this?

And now, you won’t believe it.  People had their own personal gas tanks!  “Gasoline should always be stored in a tank underground and at least ten feet away from the walls of the garage.  The New York City regulations require the tanks to be embedded in twelve inches of concrete.  A suction pump fitted with hose connection and gauge are inside the building; vent, convenient syphon filler and a device for keeping the tank filled by water flowing in automatically as fast as the gasoline is pumped out are other practical accessories of a good storage tank.   The owner is then automatically notified to replenish his supply of gasoline long before it has run short.”  Whoa. This is the DEC’s worst nightmare.

“In conclusion the writer would suggest to the man who is building a new place, that he build a garage with a capacity of at least two cars.  You may not own a motor, you may even dislike automobiles, but the time may come when you acquire one, or if you sell the place its value is greatly increased over the additional first cost. “

How adorable was all that?  Isn’t it simply amazing to see what the automobile has done for and to society since 1910?   And how about car ownership?  In the early days of automobiles, men were pretty much the only drivers and they were on their own to fix and gas them up right at home. Try fixing anything yourself under the hood today.   I don’t know about you but when I open the hood of my car, it looks more like a refrigerator than an engine in there.  Owner’s manuals used to offer up several pages of how to repair all the systems but today the dashboard computer alone requires several chapters.

100 years from now, I wonder what people will think of the cars we’re driving today and the garages we build to store them.

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We are not even close to resolving the issue of whether Syracuse University Associate Head Coach Bernie Fine sexually abused teenage boys.   The U.S. Secret Service will use its considerable resources to determine the validity of the charges against Fine by three young men.  In the meantime, where do we put the anger?

There is plenty to go around.  From homes in Bayberry, Radisson, and Mallard’s Landing, to the desks of writers for USA Today, The New York Times, CNN and MSNBC, people want to know how an initial tip in 2002 languished in three powerful local institutions for 9 years before finally getting big attention this fall.

If Bobby Davis’ accusations against his mentor Bernie Fine are true, Davis must have been in a lonely place all these years, trying his best to shed light on criminal and abhorrent behavior when everyone told him he needed more proof he was molested under cover of darkness.   The Syracuse Police Department, The Syracuse Post-Standard, Syracuse University and its lawfirm Bond, Shoeneck and King all knew about Davis’ charges, and they dismissed them for lack of corroboration.  As one national legal expert was quoted this week, since when does rape get corroborated?  But it could not have been an easy dismissal either.

This community is angry.  Some are angry with Coach Fine.  Some are angry with his wife. Some are angry with the media, the University and the police.  Others are boiling at the suggestion that Hall of Fame Coach Jim Boeheim, a man who has raised millions of dollars to fight cancer, has fueled our local economy and provided immeasurable inspiration to generations of Central New Yorkers, should be fired for this mess.  And there are plenty who are angry with the accusers; Davis, Mike Lang and Zach Tomaselli for stirring up a hornet’s nest at the beginning of yet another plausible run at an NCAA Division I title.

I see the anger in all the comments following online updates by various news outlets.  I guess it’s the most convenient place to dump what we feel.  Until there is something concrete to process, we’ll deal with the abstract on message boards and such.  It’s kind of hard to read so I hope it all gets studied in sociology and psychology classes to provide some value someday.

How are you feeling about what has happened in Syracuse?  Are we a victim of our rabid support of S.U. Basketball?  Is it too much to ask of our University, that they bring home a title each year and never make a mistake off the court?

Or is Syracuse University too big for its own good here?  In the giddy rush for construction and jobs on the S.U. hill, the “eds and meds”– as development in education and medicine is called, has the school and its trustees become too self-important?

Let me know what you think.  Are you angry?  Or are you simply angry that so many others are angry and are spreading a damp blanket on our holiday season?  Please weigh in.

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I suppose any couple who makes it to 26 years of marriage has some whiplash from constantly turning the other cheek.  If you can’t do it for the sake of your spouse, do it for the sake of the marriage because marriage is a living thing that must be fed and cultivated “til death do us part”.

Against this backdrop is the audiotape of a secretly recorded conversation between Bobby Davis, 39, and Mrs. Bernie Fine, much older than that.   In a lengthy chat on the phone in 2002 Laurie Fine seems fully aware of the man crush her husband had on Davis beginning when Davis was a star struck basketball fan in need of a father figure at 13.

(Bernie would) always say, ‘Bobby and I are going in the Jacuzzi.’ And I’d go to the bathroom and I’d try to come in. The door’d be locked. I’d check: ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Nothing.’ I said, ‘Unlock the door.’ ‘(Bernie) No, we’re in our underwear.’

As the Secret Service and U.S. Attorney’s office escalate the investigation into Syracuse Basketball Associate Head Coach Bernie Fine’s conduct through the years, my thoughts turn to the Fine family.  Here was a celebrity couple living the dream; kids, house in the suburbs, big sports job in a storied college basketball program with the most loyal fans in the country.  How long did the Fines wait for a table if they went to a restaurant with no reservations?  Lucky them.

(Laurie Fine to Davis)  I think there might have been others, but it was geared to you.  There was something about you…

No one knows a marriage except the two people in it, but the taped phone conversation blew the roof off the Fine house like a tornado came through and now everybody is looking inside.  It’s dark in there.   There are secrets.  Head coach Jim Boeheim initially went as far as to say he knows Fine so well that his accusers “are lying” and looking for money.  No one apparently bothered to look in the jacuzzi, or the basement where Bobby Davis spent many nights as a guest of the Fines while Laurie was instructed to check on the oldest child upstairs or thought it odd Davis had such access to the basketball team and the Fine family for 15 years.

(Laurie Fine) You know, Bobby, again … When he goes out of town, I don’t know anything…. I used to live, eat, sleep and drink basketball. Now, I am so the other end the last few years that I couldn’t tell you the recruits they have. Because I just don’t care.

Laurie Fine’s phone comments suggest she knows the head of household — husband, father, community leader–has a thing for young male S.U. basketball fans.  In addition to Bobby Davis, his stepbrother Michael Lang now says he was molested by Fine, though he denied it when asked years ago.  Within the last week another young man, Zach Tomaselli, contacted police to say he was fondled by Fine in a hotel room in Pittsburgh, a charge Pittsburgh authorities state they will examine.

(Davis:) Laurie, can I tell you about what happened? (laughs) You probably don’t even want to know. (Laurie Fine:)  Oh, I’d love to know because — you know what? — I don’t have that intimate, lovey feeling with Bernie. So I…

There’s an upbeat manner suggesting the wife in the sexless marriage was looking for phone sex as much as information.  Like a woman discussing a good recipe, Fine is energetic.

(Laurie Fine)  But you never had any oral sex with him? (Davis) No. I think he’d want to. (Laurie Fine) Of course, he would. Why wouldn’t he?

Why wouldn’t he?  Because it’s wrong for a grown man to want oral sex from a teenager of either gender. What looks more and more like a culture of accepted child abuse in the Fine home, the wife dismisses on the phone as  Bernie’s “issues”.  You know issues.  Hoarding, hitting the bottle, spanking the kids a little too hard.   Lots of wives look the other way for those.

Laurie Fine tells the alleged victim that rather than bother him,  Bernie should just go to a “gay bar” to get his fill of “male companionship”, which confuses a group of people that is law abiding– gays, with a group that is not– pedophiles. There’s nothing wrong with being a homosexual and everything wrong with using one’s position of power to initiate sexual contact with a child.   If the charges against Fine stick, male companionship will be the only kind he gets for awhile.

(Davis) When I stayed there in your basement, he’d come down there every night. I’m like, what the heck, what’s Laurie thinking? (Laurie Fine) What did I think? … And then he’d come down to where you were every night. And he’d say to me, ‘Go check (their son).’ Or… Go lay with him. Go upstairs.’ Anything to get me out of the room. And I knew. I told you when I was walking down the stairs at night, I’d say to myself, Guaranteed he’s not in there. When I’d look in, his papers would be spread out all over and he’d be gone. Right down the basement, door closed.

Where was Laurie Fine’s concern for this young friend of the family who slept over again and again?  Or the “others” she suspects her husband fondled too? On the tape she tells Davis “you trusted somebody you shouldn’t have trusted”, which is great.  Let’s make it Davis’ fault his hero put an adult hand down a boy’s pants.   You could blame him for hoping that this visit might be the first time his father-figure begins to keep his hands to himself or his wife.

Not to be left out, according to what Davis told ESPN, Davis says he had intercourse with Laurie,  for a real exacta of opportunity.  If you offered this script to Hollywood producers they would say enough already.   You don’t have to add every lurid thing you can imagine into one household or no one will believe it.

What makes one woman leave a husband for much less a sin as this, and makes another write off a federal offense as “issues”?  What kept Laurie in it all these years?  The love? The lifestyle?  The for better or for worse?  Did she mind being a shield for her husband’s alleged perversion, or did she hope that someday it would all be over with and they could be the terrific family this community projected them to be? Looked at in clinical terms, it’s a fascinating case.

In 2002 Laurie Fine had concerns her husband’s behavior would catch up to them, hesitating on the phone with Davis,

“Not that I think you’re gonna record anything I say, but I’m very cautious about what I say”.

Viewed any other way, it’s a portrait of disappointment, like finding out it’s your parents who put the gifts under the Christmas tree.  We all wanted to believe everything about the S.U. Basketball program and its people was better than real.

But reality has a way of bigfooting the dream.

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I just spent 12 days in Florida; mostly in Naples, but with a brief two-day stint in Key West with friends.  What fun.  It was 85 degrees and sunny every day except when it was 80 degrees and cloudy on one day.

As someone who has spent her entire life with the changing seasons in the northeastern U.S., I was amused by Florida’s attempt to have winter, and since the weather says “summer” all of the time, winter arrives primarily in the form of retail merchandise.

The first proof of that came in a search for cheap rubber flip flops, the kind you can leave at the end of the parking lot at the beach and they will still be there when you return hours later from walking miles of shoreline.  Who wants to carry topsiders all that way?  I didn’t want to risk the theft of my Sperrys in the sandy parking lot, but I wouldn’t mind losing some drugstore flip flops, only I couldn’t find any in the stores.  My friend and I went to several places, certain that any retailer within a mile of the ocean in 80 degree sunshine would have them right at the door, however the answer was always, “they’re not in season”.  Not in season?  What season would that be?  The season where you don’t sell what people need?

The supply of beach towels at the condo was slim too, so I was sure we could find more at Marshalls on the strip.  Nope.   With all the Christmas home decor and the colors-of-autumn tablecloths etc, you would think that Marshalls in Naples was as landlocked as Nebraska.  Not a single beach towel in the aisles.  Even the bath towels were burgundy and olive.

Next was our trip to Key West and in our rush out the door we forgot the bathing suits.  No problem!  Key West is subtropical.  The palm trees are bigger in Key West than in Miami.  Surf shops outnumber just about anything.  A little two-by-four-mile island in the Gulf of Mexico should be bursting with beach stuff.  Well, you know where this is going.

We hit a beachy-looking boutique on famous Duval Street where I found a total of four styles of women’s bathing suits for $150. each.  If you added up all the tasteful bathing suits I have in Syracuse, they don’t total $150.  Plus these suits were ugly.  They had sparkles on them.

We walked across the street to pricey but reliable national retailer Banana Republic where I knew the moment I walked in the door it wasn’t going to happen.  The entire store was stocked in the same black clothing they have in New York City right now.  Not the season for bathing suits, I was told.  Of course not!  How silly of me to even ask. Look around!  It’s sunny, humid and hot.  Anyone would reach for black winter clothing in conditions like these!

What started as a quick trip on bicycles to the center of town for a cheap bathing suit turned into an afternoon quest for the impossible.  This was no freak heat wave in southern Florida.  This is pretty much what they get year round.  I suppose even in the tropics shoppers get tired of endless summer merchandise, so stores offer up the winter clothing and accessories to give people a new reason to part with their money.  I can only imagine that trying on dark-colored wool in 85 degree humidity in Florida is about as pleasant as seeing ones’ pasty self in a bathing suit in the store dressing rooms in Syracuse in April.

Oh, I did finally find a bathing suit in Key West, a white number with a high neckline and giant palm fronds and red bird of paradise flowers outlined in gold with mismatched patterns at the side seams for $50.,  and which could best be described as subtle.   But it felt so good to finally jump into my friend’s backyard swimming pool that hot late afternoon last week.  I’m not sure I’ll ever wear the suit in public, but I will certainly remember how hard we all laughed that we found finally found it.

So here are some photos of my trip.  I’m certain you’ll agree it sure looks like winter down there.  Don’t bother buying your sweaters and wool in Syracuse.   You’ll find a terrific selection of it in Florida right now.

Lunch at Sunset Key, a 6 minute boat ride from Key West

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Boat dock at Sunset Key

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Sunset on the Gulf of Mexico

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Another stunning sunset, from the beach

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I love this funky little harbor boat with jute rope bumpers

Dining without walls

Cruising back into Doctor's Pass. Farewell Florida!

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I’m vacationing with friends in Key West, FL  for a couple of days, and enjoying time in Naples as well.  I have very little internet access.  Apologies for being out of touch.

It was cool to be riding a bicycle home from the restaurant in Key West last night and to see the very beginning of historic Route 1, which runs from Key West all the way up to Maine.  I’ve been on that route a lot in my life, mostly as it hugged the Rhode Island coast near where I went to college, around mile marker 1500 I imagine.   It’s really neat down here.

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I toured the new Matilda Joslyn Gage Center in the village of Fayetteville recently, and was introduced to some spectacular treasures.  It is the nearly-lost art of raised bead work created by Native Americans in New York State.

Artist Rosemary Rickard Hill grew up on the Tuscarora reservation in Western New York, and recalls from the age of eight, sitting at home with her mother, grandmother and great-aunt, and passing the cold dark winters beading at the kitchen table.   Trinkets, purses and other small items were meticulously hand-crafted.  The particularly lovely three-dimensional variety known as raised bead work is unique to the Tuscarora/Mohawks of the Six-Nation Iroquois Confederacy.  Rosemary is a member of the Beaver Clan.

After all those months creating, summer was spent packing it all up and selling it, to tourists at Prospect Park near Niagara Falls, and at the Iroquois Village at the New York State Fair.  And then Rosemary moved far away, to California.

By the time she returned just seven years later, the art of bead work was gone.  No one in her Clan was making it anymore; the young women were busy with their educations, jobs and children.  Rosemary feared the art form would die.

As one of those women involved with day to day life, Rosemary soon learned her skills had rusted.  She had to teach herself how to bead all over again.  Once re-trained, she took what she knew to other reservations and schools, determined that these treasures so much a part of the Iroquois cultural history, would endure.

Fast forward to an introduction with “force of nature” Sally Roesch Wagner, Ph.D.   Sally created the new Matilda Joslyn Gage Center in Gage’s historical home in the village of Fayettville, which itself will be the subject of a future article.  The two women discussed the bond Gage had with women of the Confederacy, and decided to collaborate on an exhibit at the Center.  Today you can see Rosemary’s museum-quality work on display, some of which is for sale.

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One of the items is a purse entitle “Change”, and it pays homage to President Barack Obama.  Not only is the exterior of this 5″ x 7″ purse enveloped in meticulous beaded designs, but Rosemary lined the purse with precious Tuscarora cloth and then embroidered a likeness of the President.  It is not for sale.   Here, Sally proudly displays this most precious of the exhibit.

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If you would like to see Rosemary Richard Hill’s raised beaded items, the Matilda Joslyn Gage Center at 210 E. Genesee Street in Fayetteville is open for tours Mondays and Saturdays from 10 am until 4 pm.  There are also some whimsical, wearable art purses featuring the clever quilting of artist Stephanie Drehs, with Hill’s beaded embellishments, available for sale as well.

You can contact the artists directly:  Dreh, 716-434-6831.  Hill, 716-523-6945.

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It ‘s a tired cliche, but it’s true.  If you build it they will come.  Please forgive me for my singular focus this weekend; our brand new Creekwalk through Syracuse.  You may have read my latest column in the Syracuse Post-Standard about what a nut I am for this new community asset.  I was on Creekwalk again on this magnificent 62 degree, cloudless day.  Everything about my afternoon defied it was Syracuse in November.

My friend Carrie Lazarus and I began in Armory Square, where parking at the meters is free on Sundays.  The streets were filled with parked cars which proves downtown is no ghost town when the workers are home.

I could not believe how many people were on the Creekwalk.  In fact, it was comical because there was a steady parade of people of all ages following the yellow stripe through downtown, and absolutely no one walking anywhere else.  Viewed from above, we probably looked like a line of ants leading from a crumb of food on the ground to the nest.   I wondered where these pedestrians were from, and next time I will ask them instead of simply saying hello as I pass.

Of the many aspects I love about Creekwalk is how varied it is.  It never gets boring because it turns and really changes along the way.  The downtown portion is very much like a walk through a city, but then you go down a small hill and pick up the Creek, away from all the cars and buildings and into a world you’ve never seen. The “before” photos on Syracuse.com show how uninviting was this stretch and it’s one of the reasons Carrie and I decided we like it best of all.

This part of Creekwalk takes you beside the creek, which today had a little stench to it that it did not have the other day, and high, high above, are the highways that splice our city into sections.  It’s louder beneath the highways but it has a kind of urban beauty too.  It is here that you feel Syracuse is bigger and more important. Carrie said it could be Boston or Providence because those cities have made the most of the water that runs through them and people respond by going there.  In this gritty span we saw someone being pushed in a wheelchair and we adore the whole thing is handicap-accessible.

As usual, when Carrie and I get together and start talking, the 2.6 mile span was over in a wink.  We admired the view of Onondaga Lake, hoped Creekwalk would grow to encircle the lake, especially on the southern end next to the train tracks where no one ever gets to go.  When those tracks were laid water was abundant and planners thought nothing of taking huge lengths of it in New York State for railroads and roadways.

Today, while the population keeps growing the waterfront does not.  We need to reclaim this incredible resource by extending Creekwalk between the water and the tracks.  Carrie hopes some enterprising business person will offer public boat rides between Onondaga Lake and the Inner Harbor where we should have some restaurants waiting with food and drink.

Carrie and I did the whole walk in 2 hours, 15 minutes, which convinces me more than ever that the two-hour limit at the downtown parking meters prevents people from departing to nearby coffee houses or restaurants.  But what a magnificent start we have.

Sociologist Richard Florida of Carnegie Mellon University says people don’t go where the jobs are, the jobs go where the people are, and a community with an attractive lifestyle will get the people first.  Creekwalk is an awesome asset for Syracuse that too often has sold out to companies that take our tax breaks and then leave again in a few years. That is not where the money should go.  It should go to things like Creekwalk.

You should have seen all the people there today, and it’s only just the beginning.

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I was invited to read some Shakespeare tonight, at a fundraiser for the Syracuse Shakespeare Festival at the Westcott Community Center.  In front of a sharp and colorful audience, Festival Director Ronnie Bell introduced the various “celebrity” readers, among them:   Jackie Warren-Moore, Langston McKinney, Grace Flusche, Nora O’Dea, Len Fonte, Nancy McCarty, George Kilpatrick and several others.

Audience members listen to soliloquies

Several years ago I watched a Shakespeare performance in Boston Common and thought what a pity it is our city is too small to have such a great thing.  Syracuse school teacher Ronnie Bell obviously never heard me say that because in 2002 he started the Syracuse Shakespeare Festival Organization, “to bring the beauty, poetry, and language of Shakespeare’s works, through high quality productions, to everyone in Central New York with a focus on school aged children.  We will put the works of Shakespeare in context through innovative programs. We are dedicated to producing the Shakespeare-in-the-Park program as free public performances”.

The next year, the first Shakespeare-in-the-Park performance was held, at the historic and lovely amphitheatre in Thornden Park.  Ronnie Bell is the antidote to small-townmindedness.   Now Shakespeare comedies, edited in length to appeal to audiences of all ages are an annual August tradition at the park.  And Ronnie didn’t stop there. He directs Shakespeare plays at the State Fair in wintertime, and he hosts a Kid’s Camp in the spring, all while raising money to keep the organization going.

That’s where the celebrity readers came in.  Drawn from a wide swath of backgrounds, we all came to the Westcott Center to support the fun, the fundraising and the hard work of this organization.  Beautiful and generous items were donated for a silent auction, including a painting and books by illustrator Susan Keeter, wine from Pascale’s Liquor Square,  jewelry from Tash Taskale and Rebecca Toman and various gift certificates from Bruegger’s, Top’s, Price Chopper and Syracuse Stage.

I read from Hamlet, my favorite Shakespeare Play and character, which leads me to conclude in my past life I was a boy.   He is more impulsive than I, but I “get” him.  The passage I read tonight, from Act 5, says beautifully, “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will”.   Translation:  God watches over us and cleans up our messy little lives.  They came up with this stuff 400 years ago in England!  Consider what has changed in the world in that time, and then read Shakespeare and consider what hasn’t.

I hope you’ll consider a little Shakespeare.   If you find it foreign and intimidating, look it up online.  There are several websites that take you through the old language.  Or, attend a performance.  The next one is Othello at the State Fairgrounds in February.  If you don’t understand every word of it, just laugh when everyone else laughs and you’ll sail through like a pro.  Eventually you’ll start understanding and liking it too.

Ronnie Bell, in Bard's cap, introduces guest readers

Lastly, you can get involved with your time or your wallet, through the Syracuse Shakespeare Festival website.  Ronnie Bell needs volunteers, actors, and funds.  He is most attentive to the website so I’m sure he’ll get right back to you with comments or questions.

We don’t need to be a city of 6 million people to support Shakespeare in the community.  The Bard is right here with us. Let’s give him a hand.

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My articles usually get a couple of comments a piece, but my recent admission I have writer’s block brought in 11 comments in a couple of days.  Wow!  Some people questioned if I am depressed, others suggested ways to get the creative juices flowing.  All offered encouragement.  I am so touched.

I’m also lazy these days, at least lazy with my writing.  But today I poured it on for my next monthly column in the Syracuse Post-Standard newspaper which runs on Saturday.  Heck, at 1200 words, I wrote enough for two articles.  Too bad I couldn’t cut it in half, run the first half in the newspaper and the second half right here.  I think they only want 600 words at the paper.  Once I started writing I couldn’t stop.

My topic is the new Onondaga Creekwalk of which I am now a rabid fan.  I’ve spent two days exploring it from one end to another.  It’s so much fun to be outside these days, in autumn best described as summer’s last, most beautiful smile, that being inside on the computer seems dull by comparison.

Instead of writing, I’ve been climbing the long steep bank in front of my house, trimming the thousands of weeds that sprang up in the summer head through the thick bed of myrtle I am encouraging to take over that hill.  I’m walking my Syracuse University neighborhood and taking my bike for a spin with a friend around Onondaga Lake Park.   I’m raking one pile of leaves at a time to stay ahead of the onslaught that will come in December when the 14 gargantuan oak trees in my yard finally drop their leaves and by then I’ll be so over being outside with a rake.

And just now, having emailed my newspaper column to my editor, I went upstairs to discover a fresh mini-dachsund poop on my bedroom carpet, the thanks I got for not including the devil dog on an afternoon errand.  Dog poop on the white carpet?  Depressed?  Why would that get me down?

Anyway, I am touched by all who left comments about my writer’s slump, inquiring if I am OK.  I am thank you.  And I am lazy too.  I have not attended to my blog as I would say, a newscast, or a newspaper column with distinct deadlines and the pressure to show up or go away.  My blog is patient and ready when I am.

Only I learned that it’s not the blog I write for.  It is all of you who take the time and interest to check in from time to time.  You deserve better than a lazy writer.   So, better I will be.

Fresh new content coming tomorrow.  I promise.  And I thank you.  It is so nice to know you care.  And now, back to that white carpet upstairs…..

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