Those first few days, or hours or minutes, back, you always have to catch up on things. Email, mail voicemail, mail mail, memos, procedures, whatever it is. Sometimes it takes longer than others. I got lucky this time, and by running through vacation photos and videos for so long that stretched out the whole trip in my mind a bit. Why, yes, those seven days did turn into two-and-a-half weeks somehow.
We were promised some other photos, too. If those come through, we’re going right back into the old vacation by way of memory.
Until then, though, we’re back here. And in this space we must fill our time with something. Today and tomorrow, are a few things that I’ve drifted through while still on island time.
This is a parking deck on campus. Masons have been reworking the brick and it looks like they are coming to the end of this particular project:
It would have been weird if I’d stood there and watched that all day, but the light and water droplets dancing around were rather mesmerizing. I just saw it at the right time of day.
Unfortunately, the timing was wrong on this. No matter how much I bent, leaned or twisted I couldn’t get them all in, or keep the sun out. But they’re keeping the sun out. And if you need a visor, you go with something classy like this:
“Thank you for being a — ” BUNNY!
Some time ago I picked up this old poster of the county. It’s a print of the way things were in 1856. I finally put it up in my tiny little office and give it a glance every now and then. Now, these people aren’t my people, but it is interesting to see the names of some of these land owners who are now just road signs to most weary commuters. My uncle worked with a man from here and that man’s family name is on this map, showing the plots of land his ancestors owned once upon a time.
The whole thing shows land owners names, first and last. And I’ve been able to pick out a few important ones. These people sold a key parcel to the university, for example, and that man was the local director on the Underground Railroad, such as it was through here. I spent some time trying to discern exactly where our modern house is. There is one road that, if it hasn’t moved in 170 years, helps get you close. But the waterways aren’t terribly accurate on the map. Finally I figured it out, and I know the name of the man that owned the land and I think I found out where he’s buried, too. Again, not my people, but still somewhat interesting.
One thing I’m struck by, when I stare at that map: there aren’t enough people named Enoch anymore. It stems from a Hebrew word which means dedicated.
One of my great-great-grandfathers was also named Enoch. He was born 15 years after that map was drawn, and lived in a different place entirely. Neither place has enough kids named Enoch these days. It sounds like the strongest, sturdiest word in the world. Just say it out loud a few times.
