The Yankee in High Summer

Yes I know Summer officially arrived only a couple of days ago, but even some of the locals have said that we don't usually see this kind of weather until later in July. It reached 90 today, and forecasters expect temperatures of 90 and above for the next three to four days. The humidity stands at 73%, which doesn't make it any easier to be outdoors. When I went out this morning at 7:15 to make my way to the refectory for breakfast, the humidity hit me like a wall. The refectory windows were completely fogged up because the temperature in the building was cold enough to create condensation.

Why do people insist on keeping building interiors colder than an icebox? Fortunately, I can control the temperature in my office and my apartment. I don't like wearing a sweater indoors during the Summer. The only drawback to setting my thermostats as high as I do is that sometimes it gets stuffy because the HVAC units don't run as frequently. That is easily solved with a fan. It's still less energy than constantly running the three units in my apartment. Which is also why I keep my thermostat set at about 65 during the winter. I do wear extra layers in the winter, but it's still warmer than an icebox.

I've often wondered where that expression colder than an icebox came from. Not so much where, but why. And how many people actually know what an icebox is any more? I remember by grandparents calling the refrigerator an icebox from time to time. It makes sense since iceboxes continued to be used well into the 1930s and 1940s. Carrier developed what we would call an air conditioner in 1902, so I suppose it's not a great leap to figure out why the expression came into use. Another example of how our language maintains expressions well beyond the demise of the objects of their origin. I'm not even going to start on the humidity hitting me like a wall.

But I digress.

It is hot, and it is humid, and it is definitely too early in the year for this weather. Yet I find myself functioning fairly well for someone who lived in more northerly climates for 50 odd years. I may not when we get to mid-to-late-July, but I seem to be adapting. Outside I move a bit slower. I drink extra fluids. And while this weather still saps my energy, it doesn't feel as bad as last Summer.

Even so, I'm still a Yankee. Just ask my new friends and coworkers.

365 Days

Eighteen months ago the possibility of working at Virginia Theological Seminary wasn't even a blip on the radar screen. Even though one of the first things I said when management eliminated my position at the Church Center was "Relocation is an option," the DC area wasn't even on the long list of possibilities. Yet here I am celebrating my first anniversary as VTS' Hospitality and Guest Residence Manager.

Is it perfect? No, of course not. I moved from a state with civil rights protections for lbgtq folks and same-sex marriage on the books. While I live in a fairly liberal area of the state, Virginia has neither. I've gone from an Episcopal diocese that's a bit left of center to one that's a bit right. Not to mention that I'm south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

On the other hand, I have a job I like, an apartment that is all that I could ask for, I'm making new friends (not to forget the friends already in the area!), I think I've found a church to join, and I'm dating. Every one who has known me for a while says I look and sound happier than I've been in a long time. All things considered, the move was a good decision.

There are still things I need and want to do. I still don't know my way around the local area as well as I'd like. Of course, I lived in Norwalk for close to 20 years and still had trouble giving directions to people asking where certain streets were. I will probably rely on my street atlas for quite a while to get places, especially in Washington. My apartment continues to feel unfinished, but I'm not sure any home becomes finished. Especially when it's a home that's lived in.

I intend to live in my home in all senses of the word.

Sing Me Autumn

The sun strikes sparks from the jeweled trees --
their firelight, framed by the window, shows me
the burnished edges of your beauty
(I am not shown the edge of my desire).
Shadows, like tidewater creeping up the shore,
lie snug at your side and in the hollows of your eyes.
Are you sleeping?
Love, autumn lies out the window,
Gaudy as a courtesan in her old age,
Patient as the sea. Is this your kind of wisdom?
I came to you with violets in my hands,
gentle purple as the questions I would ask you,
springtime-tentative. I was so young.
"Spring is too simple," you smiled as you told me,
"Sing me autumn when you fall in love."
The season of trees like roses and wind like dry white wine;
The season of time running out, of resignation.
Show yourself to me. What are you thinking?
Don't you feel this moment like a current, pulling you past reason?
I do,
but you're like a well, deep and static and shadowed.
Show yourself to me. Love me. I love you.
Sing me autumn.

My college friend Jane Thompson wrote this poem more years ago than either of us probably care to count. Although we lost touch, as college friends often do, her poem has stuck in my mind. I went looking for it tonight because I find myself in a relationship that came out of the blue. If she sees this, I hope she'll understand and forgive me for reprinting it here.

I have been the speaker, and now I find myself as the other. Or perhaps both. It is no secret that we see things from a different perspective in our later years. It also shouldn't be a secret that we are still capable of expanding our horizons and learning new things. And sometimes we need to relearn how to do things that have grown stale from lack of use.

Teach me to sing again, and I'll sing you autumn.

A Page from The Past

Yesterday I attacked the growing pile of papers on my desk and a second pile that I'd stashed away a couple of months ago while getting the place ready to host a party. I sorted everything into piles on the living room floor, so I can file it appropriately. One of those piles went into the recycling bag. Whenever I go through this process I'm always surprised at how much I don't really need to keep. And sometimes I find a surprise.

Yesterday's surprise? A sheet of notebook paper torn from one of my spiral notebooks dated October 25, 2011. The heading on the first side read "SFMM Budget" and on the second "SFMM Questions". Saint Francis something Ministries. I think the second M might have been Mutual. There in front of me sat the initial framework for one of the ideas we tried to get off the ground at Grace Episcopal Church Norwalk. Several times over the past six years we tried to find creative ways to make use of our property and building. Saint Francis Ministries became just one more project that never got off the ground a variety of reasons.

Unbegun, unfinished, and failed projects litter my past. I used to look back over them and start to feel like I was a failure. But that's not really the truth of it. Failing something doesn't make a person a failure. Our culture tends to forget that. The question to ask is what did you learn from the experience? Very little scientific or technical progress happens on the first try. In fact, sometimes great discoveries happen by mistake.

Why are we so caught up in the need to not make mistakes? Why is failure something to fear?

Saint Francis Ministries may have died on the drawing board, but who knows when some of those ideas might become an important part of another project.

It Was A Bad Idea Before...

I'm old enough to remember the world before HIV/AIDS, and I hope to see a time without it. The way to get to that future, however, is not what was, and may still be, contemplated in the Kansas State Legislature. They are working on the new version of their quarantine laws that would, among other things eliminate the exemption of those living with HIV/AIDS. I saw the first hints of this on Facebook. At first I thought it was either one of those Internet rumors or an overblown headline. So I did some digging to see if I could find something reliable and verifiable.

It's a story that dates back to the middle of the month in the Lawrence [KS] Journal-World: "Gay rights advocate has quarantine concerns over proposed changes in infectious disease law."

The dispute is over House Bill 2183, which clarifies procedures on testing a patient for communicable diseases when a health care worker has been exposed to that patient's blood or bodily fluids.

Witt said he supported efforts to protect emergency personnel, but said one of the changes in the bill would remove a current provision that exempts those with HIV or AIDS from possible quarantine.

KDHE officials said they want to remove that exemption because HIV and AIDS are infectious. 

We've seen talk of quarantine before, earlier in the epidemic, when less was known about HIV/AIDS and the death rate was much higher. Are there health concerns? Absolutely. But HIV/AIDS is not Polio. It's not transmitted through casual contact, nor is it airborne. Are there risks to health care workers? Definitely. But unless you're going to quarantine people and provide no health care whatsoever, health care workers will continue to face those same risks, quarantine or no quarantine.

While many of the headlines I've seen are overblown, it concerns me that the idea of quarantining people living with HIV/AIDS has reappeared. I can't help but feel that the people behind this move still think of HIV/AIDS as a gay issue.

Here is the page from the Kansas Legislature that tracks HB 2183.

The Great Merger

Some of you may have noticed the sudden increase in the number of posts on this blog. I didn't spend the past couple of days writing over 600 entries. They came from two other blogs I've had over the last six years. For the past few days I've been pondering merging them into this one. Having two active blogs reached a point where I wasn't posting very much on either. What should I write for one? Or the other? What kinds of post should go on which one? So I stopped posting regularly.

Each blog has served a different purpose. I started my first one, Telling Beads, in January 2007. For the most part it revolved around my observations about the Episcopal Church, the Anglican Communion, and my work at the Episcopal Church Center. After a couple of years I ended up making it an invitation only blog because of my job. It served primarily as a way for me to stay in touch with family and friends. I'm Fluting as Fast as I Can came into being shortly after I attended the National Flute Association Annual Convention in August 2009. I quickly realized that there was only so much I could write about as an amateur flutist, so it became a place for me to write general observations.

So why start a third one? It seemed like an opportune time. I moved to a new area of the country for the first time in my life. The title came to me during the packing up of my apartment in Norwalk and seemed like it would be a fun way of talking about my new life south of the Mason Dixon Line. It is, and it isn't. However, the title seems much more flexible and portable than either of the other two, so why not just have one blog? And why not have all the posts in one place?

Somewhat easier said than done. Because Telling Beads was an invite only blog, it meant going through all of its posts and deleting some of them from the merged blog. Certain things just weren't meant for public consumption.

Yesterday I wrote

Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I look through the journals I've been keeping off and on for more than 40 years, and I find that how I saw something when I was in the midst of it is very different from how I see it now. Or remember it.

It was interesting going through the old blog posts. There was a period of time when I tried to put a positive spin on what was, and continued to be for a long time, a bad situation. Some of you who were readers of that blog will remember that period of time, and you will probably have an idea of what's missing. I think you'll agree with me that those posts are better left private.

Looking through the over 760 posts now on this blog I can see the changes in my thoughts about blogging and what to blog about. That will continue to evolve.

Over the next couple of days I'll be working on the format of the blog--bringing over the list of Blogs I Read and maybe adding some other things. That, too ,will continue to evolve.

I look forward to the future.

Farewell, Old Friend

Saturday morning I cleaned out my old car and got it ready for pick up by carsforbreastcancer.org. It's a 2001 Kia Rio, which I obviously liked because I bought a new one. It was the first new car I'd ever bought, and I owned it for more than 12 years. It's taken me to countless Renaissance Faires, Dance Camps, EfM mentor trainings, and family visits. It's helped me move five times, including the move here.

Even though it has less than 85,000 miles on it, the most recent issue that needed to be taken care of was probably more money to fix than the car is worth. And I could afford a new car. I saved enough money since coming down here to put down a significant deposit on the new one. But I didn't want to just junk it. Hence the donation.



With the new car came Virginia plates. For the first time in close to 30 years I don't have vanity plates. The original JEFFRI plates were a Christmas Gift from Brian when I still owned the Datsun F10. The most recent version of them are now on their way back to the Connecticut DMV. I thought I'd be more sentimental about giving them up, but I'm not. Maybe it's all part of moving on, moving forward.

In a few years when I look at this picture of the two cars together, I wonder what I'll remember, or what I'll read into it. Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I look through the journals I've been keeping off and on for more than 40 years, and I find that how I saw something when I was in the midst of it is very different from how I see it now. Or remember it.

All of us carry those memories with us. They're part of us, part of who we are. That's nothing profound, but it's true.

The Yankee in Springtime?

The Weather Channel models called for 3"-7" of snow. Of course, we know that they like to have winter storms that they can name. Local forecasters figured it would be more like 1"-3". Not many people paid much attention to any of them figuring it would be another bust in the DC/Northern Virginia area. Most severe weather seems to have been going north or south of us or petered out before it reached us. So while we had some flurries and snow showers last evening, no one really paid attention to the weather reports. This morning I woke up and looked out the window to find this.

A few days into Spring, and we have the most snow since I moved down here. I even put on my snow boots for the first time. At this time last year it was considerably warmer, flowers were blooming, and the trees were further along. By the middle of April the roses had started blooming. That could happen again this year. The roses were still blooming in December.

We haven't had a lot of snow here this winter. However, I'm not entirely sure what's usual winter weather around this part of the world. It certainly wasn't much for this transplanted Yankee. Oh, we had our cold spells, but I very rarely had to bundle up. Several members of the Seminary community commented that when they saw me in a winter coat with a hat and gloves on they knew it was cold! That will probably change the longer I stay here.

In other ways it really is spring. Moving down to Alexandria and taking this job continues to be a positive experience. I find myself opening up again--to new people, to new experiences, to being a whole person. Every time I post a picture on Facebook, many of my friends comment on how great I look. The transplant is blooming.

The Yankee Visits Bull Run

We gave the new car its shakedown cruise on Saturday taking a trip out to Manassas National Battlefield Park. I'll leave the car stories for posts on the other blog. It was a great day for a drive, and after stopping for brunch we arrived in time to do the 2:00 p.m. walking tour of Henry Hill followed by the 3:00 p.m. walking tour at Brawer Farm. They didn't involve a lot of walking, but I suppose they had to call them something to distinguish them from the driving tour.

The park is primarily a lot of open space with a scant few buildings. Only three predate the Civil War, one because it was stone. Wooden structures were pretty much destroyed in one or the other of the battles that took place on these fields north of Manassas. You get get a real feel for just how much civilian lives were disrupted by the masses of armed men and artillery swarming over the hills. Behind me and the canon you can see the house the Henrys built after the war to replace the one destroyed by canon fire during the first battle of Bull Run in 1861.

Bull Run? Manassas National Battlefield? Depends on where you learned about the Civil War. Or the War Between the States. Or the War of Northern Aggression. I grew up in Connecticut. Although my first exposure to the Civil War in a school setting was in 5th grade history class, my father wrote his Master's thesis on the Lincoln assassination, so I'd read a lot about the time period in books on the shelves in the house. Practically everything I read called it the Battle of Bull Run after the run (creek or brook to most of us from New England) that the Union Army had to cross to get to the railroad junction in Manassas in 1861.

I remember reading about the civilians who brought picnics to watch what they thought would be the bloodless battle to end the war. I remember learning that Union forces suffered major defeats in both battles. I don't remember learning anything about the military objective, which was the railroad junction in the town of Manassas. Maybe I didn't absorb that information. Or maybe it just wasn't there. What's the important information for elementary school students to know about these battles? Or middle school students? High school students? What was it about these battles that made them important in our history as a nation?

Ultimately, it has to be the human stories. The ranger who conducted the tour on Henry Hill always talked about the number of Americans killed during the first battle. Not Union soldiers. Not Confederate soldiers. American men, and one woman, who died or were wounded that day fighting for something they believed in. When is something so important that we're willing to die for it?

Somewhat subdued we left Manassas and headed to Leesburg. We arrived shortly before the historic downtown area began rolling up the sidewalks. We wandered into a couple of shops, we looked at buildings, and I noted this road sign. At home this intersection would be CT 15, which runs southwest and northeast, and US 7, which runs north and south. Is it any wonder I get confused trying to remember which direction I'm driving? Fortunately Dennis was with me, so I didn't make the mistake on our way home of getting off the Beltway and turning around. The Beltway curves, so yes, sometimes it crosses the same road twice!

I appreciate having someone to do these day trips with. When I moved down here my intention had been to get out at least once a month to some historical or cultural place. That didn't last very long. While I don't mind doing things alone, this kind of trip is much more enjoyable with someone else along. I'm looking forward to more in the coming weeks.

It's A Rio!

It's been a long week in a lot of ways. Overlapping meetings, a winter storm, leaking ceilings, ongoing staff transitions, and waiting to bring home the new car.

Dennis and I spent Sunday afternoon looking at cars. I test drove four: the Kia Rio Hatchback, the Kia Soul, the Honda Fit, and the Ford Fiesta. I really thought I'd be coming home with a Soul. But it just didn't feel good on the road, and the seats didn't seem to fit my body all that well. I really wanted to like it, but it wasn't the car for me. I also wanted to try the Rio and liked the look of the new hatchback over the new sedan. It just felt nice. It became the standard for all the other cars I tried. I also wanted to like the Fit, but it wasn't what I was really looking for. The Fiesta would have been my second choice.

Not only was the Rio the best drive, Kia was also the best sales experience. There was no hard sell. There was no feeling of circling sharks. We were handed the key and allowed to take the cars for a test drive without anyone with us. The Honda dealership was one of several that were obviously owned by the same franchise. The salesman went with us on the test drive. Although the first sales person that greeted us was not new car sales and took us over to the new car division, when we were finished he followed us back to Dennis' car trying to interest us in other models. The Ford salesman really pushed even after I said I wasn't going to buy the car that day. He gave me a ridiculously low price. It was very tempting, but I stuck to my position.

Monday I called the Kia salesman and put the financing paperwork in motion. Originally I thought I'd pick the car up yesterday, but with the impending storm, I scheduled it for today. Now the new car is home.

It has an automatic transmission, only the second car I've owned that hasn't had a manual transmission. Given where I'm living and how much less driving I do, the automatic transmission makes more sense. It's also not my 2001 Kia, which was pretty basic. The 2013 has the rear camera, radio controls on the steering wheel, cruise control, and so much more. Something that wasn't even an option when I bought my old car is the ability to plug my iPod into the system. Isn't technology wonderful?
< br /> Now I need to figure out where to donate the old car.

The Yankee Visits Harpers Ferry

As I've mentioned before I now live in the midst of a whole new historic setting with new places to visit and new things to learn. Today Dennis and I headed west on Route 7 to the Leesburg Corner Premium Outlets. Okay, not a historic site, and Premium Outlets all look pretty much the same. I could have been in the one in Clinton, Connecticut or Central Valley, New York. I suppose once you develop a branding, you want to keep it consistent no matter what the location. Restaurants are the same way. Olive Gardens, Pizzeria Unos, Applebee's, and the like are the same wherever you go. You know exactly what you're going to get when you walk in the door. That's the reasons my friends Kellee and Bob eat at local restaurants when they travel. Why go someplace you can go any day when you can explore something new. Kellee and I had some great meals while we were in Albuquerque for the Forma Conference last month.So while outlet malls are nothing out of the ordinary, I needed new shoes. For things like that, knowing what you're getting when you walk in the door is a good thing.

When we left the outlets, Dennis headed west rather than east. He decided he'd take me out to Harpers Ferry. I knew I lived pretty close to the state line, but I hadn't realized just how close we are to West Virginia. We drove through the wineries of Loudon County, up and over the mountains, and down into the valley where the Shenandoah and the Potomac meet. Into a place I've read a lot about but only seen for the first time today. In spite of how much I've read, there's quite a bit I didn't know about Harpers Ferry. The armory was established at the suggestion of President Washington. Merriwether Lewis stopped here for supplies he would need before heading west with William Clark. Both armies occupied the town during the Civil War, and George Armstrong Custer met his wife there.

And the Appalachian Trail runs through the middle of  Harpers Ferry. You can sort of see the railroad bridge to the left in this picture. The trail crosses from Maryland and then goes through town out toward Storer College, one of the first historically black colleges. The college closed in 1955, and many of its assets were transferred to Alderson-Broaddus College in the early 1960's (did you know that Kellee?). The campus is part of the Harpers Ferry Historic Park.

I probably wouldn't have ventured to Harpers Ferry on my own. I much prefer to go places with friends. Each person notices something different and calls it to the others' attention. Shared experiences are enjoyable ones.

Running Around

Three days in the Albuquerque area and we know our way around pretty well, only occasionally needing Marsha, Kellee's GPS. I'm not sure why we have this need to name the disembodied voices on our electronic gadgets. Does it make us feel less dominated by our technology? Or do we name it because it speaks? I still don't have a GPS, and after spending the last couple of days with Marsha, I think I'll stick with maps, especially since I do most of my driving to new places without anyone else in the car. A GPS would be too distracting in the car.

Yesterday morning Kellee and I drove down to Albuquerque for breakfast at the Gold Street Cafe. The sign for our exit also marked the exit for Historic Route 66, which was the road we needed to take to get to the restaurant. After reading so much about this American icon of automobile travel over the years, I couldn't resist having my picture taken with one of the route signs. After breakfast, running a couple of conference related errands, and picking up our board colleague Laurie, we paralleled Historic 66 on our way up to Santa Fe. We were back on Historic 66 this evening heading for dinner at the Monte Carlo after picking up one of our board colleagues at the airport.

We didn't spend a lot of time in Santa Fe. After parking the car we went over to the Palace of the Governors to browse the works of the Native artisans. We had some great conversations with some of them. Lots of jewelry and some pottery. To ward off the chill, several of the artisans were bundled in blankets that bore native designs but were made of fleece.

We ate lunch at a little diner/cafe on the Plaza before wandering through some of the galleries and shops. I saw some pottery nativities created by native artisans, but the ones that I liked were more than I was willing to spend.

One of the issues with trips like this is food. Although we have refrigerators in our rooms, and we can keep some snacks, fruit, and some odds and ends in them, we end up at restaurants for most of our main meals. Fortunately, Kellee rented a car, so we can leave the resort and find less expensive places to eat. The food here is excellent, but as with most hotel food, it's a little pricey. Except for lunch today, the portions we've been served are more than any of us can eat. I've been leaving food on my plate. Lunch at the Village Inn down in Rio Grande was an exception. They offer half-sandwiches with either soup or salad for a very reasonable price. It was just the right amount of food.

We're transitioning from play time to work time. Forma Board members and conference participants arrived throughout the day. This morning Kellee, our conference chair, and our board president met with hotel staff while a couple of us assembled name badges and unpacked materials for the participant packets. We ran errands. We planned what needs to be done before tomorrow afternoon's board meeting.

More tomorrow.

From Old Town to Old Town

My friend and Forma colleague Kellee traveled to Albuquerque for the annual Tapestry Conference. We came a few days early, so we could spend some time sightseeing and also to begin setting up for the event. This year's conference will take place at the Hyatt Regency Tamaya Resort and Spa located on the Santa Ana Pueblo, which is between Albuquerque and Santa Fe.

This is my first trip to New Mexico. In some ways this part of the state reminds me of the San Joaquin Valley in California--an arid, flat area surrounded by mountains. Unlike the San Joaquin Valley, it's not criss crossed with irrigation canals. I didn't know, or had forgotten, that the Rio Grande flows through this area. We drove across it on our way to the hotel, a shallow, muddy-looking stream. I did remember that so much water is taken from the Rio Grande that it is nowhere near the size it once was. Still, it was rather anti-climactic to drive over something so ordinary looking with a grand name.

We met Pat, another formation colleague from New York City, in Atlanta where we changed planes. Once we settled in to our rooms at the hotel, the three of us drove back down to Albuquerque to poke around Old Town Albuquerque. It's quaint. It's southwestern. It was gray and rainy. Lots of art galleries and souvenir shops with everything from kitsch to fine art. There were a few native artisans along the Plaza. Many had already packed up and gone home by the time we arrived late in the afternoon. I imagine it's very different when the weather is better and it's not the middle of winter.

We had a list of options for dinner, but we decided to stay in Old Town and eat at the Casa de Ruiz Church Street Cafe. It serves a variety of salads, hamburgers, and what most Easterners would consider Mexican food. Fortunately for me, there were minimally spicy options. I ordered the mixed (chicken and steak) fajitas. I brought half of them back to the hotel with me (we have small refrigerators in our rooms) and still felt like I'd eaten too much. There was a time when I'd have finished the whole plate just because it was in front of me. I'm getting better about food as I get older.

It's been a long day having got up at 5:00 a.m. Eastern Time for our flight. Even though it's only 10:30 p.m. here, I've been up for 19 hours, and it's time for bed.

The Yankee in Winter

This morning the alarm went off at 7:00 a.m., as it usually does. After I turned it off I heard an unfamiliar noise--rhythmic but not quite constant. My first thought was, "What's going on in the Guest Houses?" I got up and walked into the kitchen to see if I could identify where the noise was coming from. Outside. Someone was shoveling snow. That's a noise I haven't heard in a long time.

For the most part we've had a pretty mild winter here. Well, for a New Englander it's been pretty mild. As soon as the temperatures dipped into the forties I began seeing people in winter coats. The last three days, however, have been bitterly cold, which was a definite improvement over a full week of gray, foggy, wet weather last week. It was cold enough this week that I dug out my winter hat for the first time since I've been down here. I wonder how long it will be before I put on my winter coat when it gets down into the forties.

Today we had what some called a dusting. Yet it was enough to delay opening the local schools for two hours. Federal workers were given the option of generous leave or telecommuting. A colleague posted on Facebook some tips about driving cautiously. I learned my winter driving skills in Minnesota, northern Illinois, and Wisconsin, so I'm not too worried about my driving. It's all the other people on the road that have little to no experience even in this little bit of snow that I worry about.

Many local roads are still icy, and rush hour tomorrow could be interesting. Fortunately, I don't have to drive to get anywhere. More snow is on the way tomorrow afternoon. It will be interesting to observe first hand how little snow snarls up the DC area.

I don't envy the workers taking down the shell of the burned chapel. For quite a while it was difficult to see any progress because the work started with cleaning the debris from the inside and stabilizing the walls so they could take them down safely. Some of the remaining walls will enclose a memorial garden and outdoor worship space while preserving the footprint of the historic building and a few of the architectural details. Many folks still wish they could have rebuilt the chapel. A lot of history and memories resided in those walls.

I, along with the students who entered the Seminary after the October 2010 fire, have no emotional attachment to the 1881 Chapel. While the loss of a historic building is always painful, it really was an unremarkable piece of church architecture. Except the walls, which even after the fire, withstood the earthquake, the Derecho, and Hurricane Sandy, primarily because of strengthening beams added after the building had been completed. But even that strength really wasn't enough to justify the cost of rebuilding a chapel that no longer really served the needs of the community. In the meantime, we continue to worship in the Interim Chapel in the lower level of the academic building.

I wonder what all of this will look like after tomorrow's predicted snowfall.