Saturday, April 17, 2004
Thought for the Day
George Bernard Shaw said 'Youth is wasted on the young.' Couldn't the same be said for maturity, that it's wasted on the mature?
Posted by Ann on 04/17/04@03:21 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Explosion Aftermath/Ghost House.
This made me really sad.
Yesterday Stan and I took what is now our daily walk past the site of the explosion. On the grass by the curb by the house across the street from the site, one of the houses that sustained structural damage and now only has limited entry allowed by the residents, we found a large house plant. I'm not sure what it is yet...umbrella...large...schefflera...anyway, it's bigger than anything we have, even bigger than our tree philodendron. But we couldn't resist. We took it and gave it a home. I guess maybe the plant suffered some blast damage and wasn't good looking anymore to its previous owners. I guess we didn't care. It was a plant.
I awoke last night and could sort of remember what the house looked like that blew up. I'm not sure if my memory is all that accurate, but it came to me. It was two stories, but it was a newer, i.e., built in the 1940s house (as I it was reported somewhere in some media), so it probably wasn't as much of an architectural loss to the neighborhood as I originally had thought. I think it had a low-pitched roof, sort of post-bauhaus, pre-bilevel style. Frame, but with aluminum siding. I think it was grey or neutral, although the wreckage shows a turquoise color. This is confusing. I think the windows were situated more towards the corners of the house. And I think it had windowboxes. It sat lower than the steep-pitched brick 2-story house to its northeast (I think, unfortunately, that one is a total loss, which is such a shame, such a pretty house) and much lower than the old three-story 1844-era frame house to its southwest, (which also might have to be torn down as well), but not as low as that weird little oddity two doors down to the southwest that didn't appear to sustain any damage at all! The explosion was like a tornado, selectively choosing random victims. Tall houses fared the worst. Since we live on one slope of the hill and the explosion was on the other side of the hill toward the top, that is why I believe it sounded like something fell on our roof from the trajectory of the sound waves...amateur physics assessment that it is. Our house was also protected enough from other houses higher on the hill which was why we didn't have any broken windows...just cactuses which fell off the windowsills (and they're doing fine).
Posted by Ann on 04/17/04@09:57 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Friday, April 16, 2004
Things that make you go "THE"
Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" is THE definitive album. Literally. It is THE definitive album. It defines THE. Go see for yourself. Webster's Online Dictionary
Posted by Ann on 04/16/04@09:45 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Boom. Crash. Shatter Shutter Tremble Tremor.
First you are awake. The first thing you think: the awning over the non-functional second story door somehow fell off its hinges and landed on the basement bulkhead below. The second thing you think: something is wrong...our roof is damaged. A large limb from a neighbor's oak tree fell on our roof. A piece of debris from a passing plane fell onto our roof and now we have a hole in our house. Stan asks, 'Did that sound like the back door slam shut?' 'No,' I say, 'it sounded like something fell on the house!' It is 3:59 AM. We are the latest victims of Al-Quaida (sp?), right here on Madison's east isthmus. Someone's meth lab blew up. No, it was just a limb falling onto the roof. A really, large limb. A tree fell on the house. Stan gets up and goes outside with nothing on except his shorts and probably some shoes. He couldn't find anything. I pull on some pants and go upstairs, fearing there's a large piece of airplane debris that had fallen through the attic, fearing a crumbling mess on our second story. I had just installed a printer set-up for my computer, and now, all that work, ruined by some stupid tree limb. Or airplane debris. Or bomb.
Everything looked normal. Stan came back inside. He couldn't see anything abnormal outside. I told him I wanted to go outside with him and look around. I put on a coat. He took a flashlight to shine on the house and roof. We heard sirens. We heard people talking on the street. This was 4 AM on a Tuesday. People aren't usually out on the street at that time on a weekday. I walk toward the front of the house to see where the people are, and as I turn back to go in the backyard, I see it. It's off in the distance, smoke rising off in the northeast.
We walk down the block, and we see flames. As we get closer, I start to cry. A house about a block and a half from where we live was completely gone. Levelled. A house next to it was on fire. It was so, so, sad. A house blew up. A nice old house, maybe a little younger than our old house, and probably a lot nicer. Gone. The explosion was so strong, it took out several windows in surrounding houses. Houses in a half block radius were evacuated and gas has been cut off in that immediate neighborhood. They think it was a natural gas explosion. But they don't know yet.
It was so sad.
And I wonder about this dream.