Driving Myself Crazy in Providence

On September 6, 2016 By Sheila OConnellIn A Year in Providence, Memoir, Providence RI4 Comments

I have no sense of direction. After I’ve lived in a place for a few years, I’ll have a mental map of routes from my home to various places. But if I make a wrong turn on the way or come upon a construction detour or a closed bridge, all is lost. And so am I.

Given my lack of navigation skill and my scant experience with city driving, I was nervous to sally forth by car into Providence after we moved here. My Honda CRV sat idly in the driveway of our new home, collecting pollen and leaves and getting bonked by acorns. “We live in a walkable neighborhood,” I told myself. “Who needs to drive?” I have no sense of direction, but I do have a sense of when it’s time to get going. So after a few weeks of denial, I started assigning myself small car trips to force myself out of the driveway and onto the road.

I’ll admit to having and often using the GPS app on my phone – it’s an essential tool for an involuntary wanderer like me – but since I wanted to learn my way around Providence, I made a point of rarely consulting my little electronic best friend. Besides, the GPS just delivers you to your destination; it doesn’t help you find a parking place once you get there. If only life were like the movies, where you pull up to the museum, train station or busy nightclub and glide into a big parking space right in front!

One of my first Providence car trips was to a yoga studio a few miles away. I have to weave through a hubbub of street construction, but I eventually find the building. Then I look for a place to park. Here’s a spot on Congdon Street! Oh no, that sign says no parking between 8 and 10 a.m. Ok, I’ll park here on Benefit Street. Nope, one-hour parking only. How about farther up on Benefit where there’s no sign? Maybe, but the only car on the block is booted, so maybe not. Free three-hour parking on Meeting Street, great! But then I’ll have to walk four blocks down, and later up, a very steep hill. I circle back to North Main, squeeze past all the traffic cones and flaggers, and find a two-hour metered space a couple of blocks from the studio. At this point I really need some yoga. And a drink.

As time has passed I’ve driven more, reached all my destinations, and found places to park. I’ve been able to relax a bit and take note of my surroundings. The first thing I noticed was: a lot of other drivers just like me! People frowning in concentration, gripping the steering wheel tightly, craning their necks to look for street signs, one-way signs and stop signs, ready to slam on the brakes for cyclists, runners, pedestrians, and Pokemon Go players. Stop signs are particularly cagey; one might be hiding behind a shrub or tree, leaning toward the ground, or lurking on the LEFT side of the road. Street signs are often missing. Which doesn’t actually matter all that much because streets change names at will. Upton becomes Doyle, Goldsmith becomes Wriston, Abbott becomes Larch. (Or “The Larch”, as either Jeff or I will announce dramatically every time we pass it. That’s hysterically funny to any Monty Python fan in the car. And really annoying to any other unfortunate person in the car.)

Many of the street names on the East Side are uplifting or even inspiring. We have a street named after the “Father of Geometry”, Euclid. And a street named for Magellan, the great explorer who died while looking for the Spice Islands. I prefer to think about the “great explorer” part of that rather than the “died while looking” part. We have Neighbors Lane, Benefit and Benevolent Streets, Angell and Hope.

Now that I feel more comfortable driving around Providence, I sometimes turn on my GPS to see where it will take me. The other day it said, “Use the right lanes to turn left onto North Main Street.” I turned off the GPS and found my own way home.

Stuff Happens in Providence RI

On July 18, 2016 By Sheila OConnellIn A Year in Providence, Memoir, Providence RI13 Comments

Empty sunroom before furniture arrives — Empty sunroom, early on our move-in day

We woke early on our move-in day, deflated the inflatable mattress we’d been sleeping on, and waited inside the empty house. The big orange moving van rumbled up the street a little after 8:00. Happy to see it, we also felt nervous about whether all of our furniture and boxes would fit into this house. And the garage. And the basement. And the yard, if necessary.

The guys came up the walk after parking the van, with large bearded Wayne in the lead, followed by the even larger Joe and the short, stocky impassive Murphy. They tramped around the house for a few minutes, noting all the rooms, stairs, passageways, and odd twists and turns. Then Wayne asked me to call the police. “The police!”, I thought, wondering if it is a crime to have a doorway that is only six feet high, as is the one at the outer entrance to our kitchen. “The police?” I said. Wayne told us that his van had knocked down a low-hanging tree branch a few blocks up our street, and he would rather we report the incident than have the police arrive and arrest him for leaving the scene of a broken branch.

I found the non-emergency police number and called. A man answered, “Providence Police,” gave his operator number and said “What’s the problem?” After I explained, he said “You on Everett?” I said yes, and he said, “Yeah, that was reported at 8:20, and a cable was knocked down too. National Grid is already out there working on it.”

“Oh no,” I said timidly. “Is there anything we should do?” To which he replied, “Nah, stuff happens!” And then, “Hey, where are you moving from?”

Stuff happens? Where are you moving from?? Not the response I expected, but a very welcome one. “Bethlehem PA,” I said. “Bethlehem,” he replied. “I was there once, years ago. What brings you to Rhode Island?”

We chatted a bit, with him filling me in on various Providence and Rhode Island events, including Waterfire, the Seafood Festival, the Kite Festival, the Hot Air Balloon Festival. “There is so much to do here in the summer,” he said. “I hope the rest of your move goes well. Welcome to Providence!”

After I hung up, we all breathed a sigh of relief that there would be no repercussions for the damage sustained to limb. The rest of the move-in went well. Murphy even made a joke toward the end, something about a second truck on the way bringing the rest of our things.

Stuff happens, indeed. It’s good to know that kindness and reasonableness also happen. By the way, all of our furniture and boxes did fit into the house, garage and basement. Just barely.

Welcome Home

On July 15, 2016July 15, 2016 By Sheila OConnellIn A Year in Providence, Memoir, Providence RILeave a comment

The busiest day of the year for real estate closings is June 30^th, and we were lucky to get the last available appointment slot at the title company, 8:00 a.m. Jeff and I took seats across the table from the seller of the home and her realtor, and the title attorney sat at the head of the table with a stack of papers and a pile of pens. Our realtor, the always-cheerful David Hasslinger, arrived a few minutes later and sat next to me. He put his phone and a suspiciously gifty-looking black box on the table. “Keychain,” I thought, having been through real estate closings before.

We signed and initialed papers for about twenty minutes, then were congratulated by all on purchasing a new home. Our “new” home is actually a very old house on the East Side of Providence. The seller’s big smile indicated that she would not miss the joys of owning an old house. “I love the neighborhood,” was her comment.

David slid the black box over to me and said “Open it.” I lifted the lid and found something to hold our keys: not a keychain, but a beautiful art glass bowl, created by David himself! This is Providence, after all, so it’s not surprising that our realtor is also a glass artist. (A little backstory: David came to RI to get an MFA degree at RISD, married a Rhode Island gal, and stayed, eventually entering a career in real estate). The bowl is stunning, its delightfully irregular whirled edges forming a container for bronze-colored liquid light. On the bottom is David’s signature and a little message to us.

We drove to our new house and carried in the essentials that we brought with us for the weekend: an inflatable mattress, four folding chairs and a coffeepot. We gave Jeff’s parents the all-clear to come over to see the inside of the house for the first time. It was a beautiful, blue-sky Rhode Island summer morning, so we set the chairs outside and sat on the deck chatting for a bit. Joan had noticed that the garage floor was covered in leaves and dirt, and said “I want to do something – let me sweep the garage”. Against our protests, she found a broom and set to work. Joe found a rake and joined her. My parents-in-law love to help their kids, and don’t like to sit around when there is work to do – even now at the ages of 85 and 90! Here is a photo of Joe raking our garage.

David stopped by a bit later to check on us. He asked Joe to take a picture of him presenting Jeff and me with the glass bowl, and showed Joe how to use the camera on his iPad. After much laughter and many retakes, a satisfactory photo was obtained. With Jeff saying, as he always does, “I AM smiling”.

I hereby present you ... — I hereby present you …

We met our neighbors Amy and Clay that afternoon when they popped across the back yard to say hello and welcome.

Sophie biked over in the evening, and brought us a housewarming gift of two RI-themed mugs from one of my favorite shops, Frog and Toad on Hope Street.

The next morning Jeff walked to Eastside Mart to buy a newspaper. Paul, the owner of this not-typical convenience store, said “Nothing here is expired; everything is fresh! Here’s my card. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

Before heading back to PA for the final round of packing, we sat a few minutes on our folding chairs in the shade, listening to the call and response of a pair of robins in the big oak tree beside our deck. We felt welcome, and home.

Ten Things I Love about Bethlehem PA

On June 27, 2016June 27, 2016 By Sheila OConnellIn Bethlehem PA, MemoirLeave a comment

My moving preparations are almost finished, and soon I leave for my new home in Providence RI. Despite my eager anticipation of new adventures, my thoughts keep returning to Bethlehem PA. It has been my home for 26 years, and was a great place to raise a family, grow a small business, and find good friends.

Here are ten things that I may have loved the most about “o little town”:

When I go downtown to shop or meet friends for lunch, I like to park near the library on Church Street, then cut through the Central Moravian Church campus on my way to Main Street. I usually pause for a moment or two to look at the Old Chapel, which seems to sit contentedly, enjoying its long retirement since 1806 when the “new” Sanctuary was built.

The downtown historic district is a visual delight of beautifully preserved homes, diverse in style, size and level of elegance. From the grandest Georgian estate to the smallest carriage house, homes on every block have welcoming doorways, gently aged or tastefully aging exteriors, and pops of colorful paint and flowers. All changes to exteriors in the Bethlehem Historic District must be approved by the city’s Architectural Review Board, which causes some grumbling now and then. But the neighborhood’s charm is thus preserved, enchanting all who visit.

Me at the art show with my personal framer and booth erector

In May on Mother’s Day weekend, the annual Fine Art & Craft Show takes over Main Street. Artists’ booths fill both sides of the street from the Brew Works to the Moravian Bookshop. An artist-in-residence, roving musicians, and a children’s art area add to the ambience. That sounds suspiciously like marketing-speak. And it is! I served happily on the art show committee for ten years, and even showed my photography at the show for a couple of those years.

Public art everywhere! You cannot drive or walk far in this town without seeing a a sculpture or two, and perhaps a mural.

Steel-Stacks-collage — Some views of the Steel Stacks in Bethlehem

Bethlehem’s own “high line”, the Hoover Mason Trestle, offers closeup views of the preserved Bethlehem Steel stacks and other remnants of the town’s industrial heritage. The abstract patterns of weathered brick and rusted metal, colorful layers of peeling paint, and broken windows are simply gorgeous: a photographer’s dream.

Springtime and its intoxicating cocktail of blossoms on cherry trees, dogwoods, rhododendrons, and Japanese magnolias.

Small but enthusiastic contingent of BCEP at the Heart Walk

Convivial gatherings with other local alums in the Brown Club of Eastern PA. The college fight song was right: ‘We are ever true to Brown, and We love our college dear … and something something beer.’

A ramble through Saucon Park on a misty morning, before the picnickers converge.

Looking up at the Alumni Memorial Building at Lehigh University

On warm summer evenings, Jeff and I like to get an ice cream cone at The Cup and meander around the campus of Lehigh University. We admire the splendid landscaping and the Gothic style buildings, and luxuriate in the quiet unique to a college campus when the students are away.

Salsa dancing and uke jamming in the garden

At the Sculpture Garden concert series, I’ve heard some good music, attempted to learn salsa dance and contra dance moves, and even jammed with other audience members and the band on my ukulele. It’s one place where my enthusiasm for trying something new was not dampened by my lack of talent. (A big shout-out here to the plucky Elaine D! There can be no truer friend than one who will play the ukulele in public with me.)

The list could go on but I’ll stop here. Another day I may remember white lights and candles in winter windows, or sweet summer grass smells and bicycle bells on the towpath. Or handsome policemen on horseback, oh my!

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