Good to see Lorenzo's resting place in summer, and his sheltering oak tree in leaf. It was bare branched the early April day of his burial. I see St. Paul is clutching an assault weapon and wearing a determined expression. About cicadas: earlier this summer my wife and I were north of the city, along the Hudson River, visiting an historic estate. The air was alive with millions of cicadas, buzzing, humming, and flying -- they filled hundreds of acres of woodland with a vast, deep droning that rose and fell in waves of synchronicity. Wikipedia tells us they are edible (the females being "meatier"). Cicada pie, anyone? The Choir of St Paul's Cathedral selection is heavenly. Great post, thank you.
-Dean Ericson
Yes, I can imagine Larry being defended with an assault weapon, even in heaven. His words must be affecting even in the pious settings. Actually, I believe that we continue with the roles we undertook on earth after we depart. That is why it is so important to be brave, and to seek truth and goodness, despite the adversary and antagonism which we undoubtedly receive here, as Larry constantly did. What we do on earth will continue up there, in all its bravery, or its limitations. It is up to us what we chose to do here.
The other comment on that post is Dean's explanation of the sound of cicadas:
It was not a cacophony. Groups of cicadas were synchronizing themselves into choirs. It would start with a few cicadas then all of them in that locale - perhaps they organized by tree, "all right elm #46, hit it!" -- would join in until the buzzing reached a crescendo then it would decrescendo in the space of about a minute. Probably each tree had a conductor who looked like an insect Herbert von Karajan. Listening, you could discern various choruses rising and falling throughout the depth of the woods. It was music, but of a strange and primitive kind, with great vigor, and weirdly moving.
-Dean
Yes, that is right. It was a surge, then a decline. And there were various "voices." And while it lasted, the peak of the surge was loud and almost deafening. So it was music. And this fits Larry's aesthetics perfectly, where he would choose art rather than noise.
But, I think I was reacting to the strength, or the power, of this "noise." I think to travel all those distances, literally and spiritually (as I wrote in the post), a strong medium was necessary. And these cicadas became the perfect channel.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is the second time I've been to the lovely Straus Park, on Broadway and 106th street.
Here is what I wrote the first time I went in Straus Park in New York:
I had my tablet with me while sitting in Straus Park in the Upper West Side in New York, and searched for the biblical quotation inscribed behind the statue (in gold, it is visible in the above photo) to see it in the context of the biblical story it came from:
Lovely and pleasant were they in their lives
And in their death they were not divided
II Samuel 1:23
The quote is a strange and obscure one. It tells the relationship between a father and a son (Saul and Jonathan), whereas the memorial is dedicated to a married couple.
I suppose we can use biblical texts to transfer to, and describe, many kinds of loves. Still, it is a little strange to transfer a father/son love to that of a married couple.
Ida and Isador Straus were on the Titanic when it sank. Ida, rather than save her life by boarding a lifeboat which was rescuing women and children (first), decided to stay with her husband as the ship sank. Eye witnesses say that Ida chose to remain on board with her husband, saying,"I have lived all these years with you. Where you go, I go."
I think a Biblical quote more appropriate to a married couple could have been found. I'm not sure who chose this quote, but it is probably a team of people from the various New York city offices, the sculptor and the the Straus family descendants.
There is also an eternal fountain (see top image), which originally flowed into a reflecting pool. The pool was filled in to create a flower bed for easier maintenance.
There are more images at the site, which I took from various websites on the park
The anonymous person I was with, going through my tablet, was Larry Auster. We met in the park (on his suggestion) on our way to other bigger New York landmarks, but I would have never found this lovely place had he not told me about it. One thing Larry told me was that at there is a small park at each point in the New York City grid where Broadway meanders.
Here are most of them:
- Mitchell Square Park, Broadway and 166th
- Montefiore Square Park, Broadway and 138th
- Verdi Square, Broadway and 73rd
- Sherman Square, Broadway and 70th
- Richard Tucker Square, Broadway and 66th
- Dante Park, Broadway and 63rd
- The beautiful Columbus Circle, Broadway and 59th
- Times Square, Broadway and 47th
- Greely Square, Broadway and 32nd
- General Worth Square, Broadway and 25th
- Union Square, Broadway and 14th
- City Hall, Broadway and Chamber St.
- Bowling Green, Broadway and Battery Place
We also discussed the German ß, which is used for the double s (as in Johann Strauß, which would be spelled Strauss in English). I said that Straus Park should correctly be spelled Strauss Park (the ß doesn't exist in the English alphabet). We didn't have time to look up these details in the tablet computer, but now I can say that there are a few German names which use only one "s" (Straus), while the majority use the double "s." These were the kinds of details which interested Larry.
During my visit to New York in mid-August, I went back to Straus Park and took the following photographs. I had used various web-posted images for my 2012 post on the park.
Straus Park entrance
Female figure "Memory" reclining in front of a reflective pool
By American artist Augustus Lukeman.
Sculpture completed in 1913
[All photos by KPA]
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My recent trip to New York, was successful and as always, enjoyable.
There were many reasons I went. One was to attend Jim Kalb's monthly meetings, of which I am honored to be a part. Secondly, it was to photograph various New York landmarks for the chapter headings of my book Reclaiming Beauty. Third, I went to see if I can use the immense research facilities at the New York Public Library for my book. And finally, but no less important, it was to pay my respects to Larry Auster, with a visit to his grave near Philadelphia, which I've posted on here.
Each of these was successful. It left me little time to visit museums, exhibitions and even shopping. I went to the Cloisters on a double mission: to photograph the scenery and buildings, and to attend the 75-year anniversary of the Unicorn Tapestires aqcuisitions. But the Metropolitan has to wait for another visit. I made it to Macy's and Bloomingdales, but I didn't take my camera with me, leaving me without photos of the famous storefronts.
I had also hoped to trace George Washington's visit to New York during his (as I had written here), but time was lacking. I will do that at another visit, and I will surely find some worthy images to put in my book.
The docent, a gentle lady named Patrica Darcy (do have her as your guide) was able to give us an a great survey of the library, as well as provide as with the pertinent information (such as the grant for writers and scholars).
On my way out of the library, I went to the gift shop, and bought a $1.00 (maybe it was 80 cents) postcard of one of the lions outside the library. "Is this Patience or Fortitude?" I asked the serious gift shop lady. "How do you know which is which?" she asks. Of course, I had just heard it form my tour, but didn't give that away.
Apparently, the lion on the postcard is Patience, as is the lion in the photograph I took of the library's exterior.
NYPL Staircase
View of the Empire State Building, through a window in the NYPL
View of 42nd Street through a window in the NYPL
[All Photos by KPA]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the reasons I took the trip to New York, a lengthy and beautiful bus ride through the Adirondack Mountains in New York, and the Poconos Mountains through Pennsylvania, was to pay my respects to Lawrence Auster. I was unable to attend his funeral in April.
The cemetery is in a town called Springfield Pennsylvania, about twenty minutes from Philadelphia. It is off a "throughway" called Sproul Road. I got there by a combination of the Greyhound bus (from New York), subway through Philadelphia, and bus to Springfield. Then the walk up Sproul to the cemetery is a fifteen minute stretch without a sidewalk. At some point, I thought I would be a good candidate for the cemetery!
Here is my visual collage of my visit, and my trip.
Woods on the road to Philadelphia
Entrance
Aerial view of the cemetery, showing the surrounding woods and Sproul Road
The chapel at the far end of the cemetery's entrance
Drive through into the cemetery, with beautiful lawns and tall trees
Closer view of the chapel, which was closed when I went
American flags, waving in the Veterans section
The Irish flag reminded me of Larry's love of Yeats
Sculpture of St. Paul, in the area where Larry is buried. I believe the grave is the one
I've photographed here. It is underneath an oak tree, as indicated here.
Pressed oak leaf I collected from the grave site
Three independent identifiers were able to verify for me that this plot is Larry's (the receptionist in the chapel, who told me to look for a plot in the corner, next to a tree and in front of a statue of St. Paul, and two groundsmen, who counted the plot from their grid map of plots).
To the best of my knowledge, this is Larry's plot. It will acquire a stone within the next six months, according to the receptionist.
Thou art the Vessel of election, Saint Paul the Apostle, the Preacher of truth in the whole world.
V. Pray for us, Saint Paul the Apostle, R. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
Let us pray
Almighty and everlasting God, Who, of Thy Divine mercy, didst instruct Thy blessed Apostle Paul what he should do that he might be filled with the Holy Ghost; by his admonitions directing us and his merits interceding for us, grant that we may serve Thee in fear and trembling and so be filled with the comfort of Thy heavenly gifts. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Larry would have also liked the Latin version:
Tu es vas electiónis, sancte Paule Apóstole, prædicátor veritátis in univérso mundo.
V. Ora pro nobis, sancte Paule Apóstole, R. Ut digni efficiámur promissiónibus Christi.
Oremus
Omnípotens sempitérne Deus, qui beáto Apóstolo tuo Paulo quid fáceret, ut implerétur Spíritu Sancto, divína miseratióne præcepisti; eius dirigéntibus mónitis et suffragántibus méritis concéde, ut serviéntes tibi in timóre et tremóre, cæléstium donórum consolatióne repleámur. Per Christum Dóminum nostrum. Amen.
It was a quiet and magical day. I was the only one around Larry's grave. There were a few cars driving in to find their plots. Groundsmen were present, but unobtrusive. It was quiet and peaceful.
As I stood before the grave, a sudden cacophony of cicadas overwhelmed the serene and quiet place. It lasted for about a minute, or forty-five seconds. The cicadas must have been in the nearby maple tree.
Song of the cicada, in ancient mythology:
Socrates: But let me ask you, friend: have we not reached the plane–tree to which you were conducting us?
Phaedrus: Yes, this is the tree.
Socrates: By Herè, a fair resting–place, full of summer sounds and scents. Here is this lofty and spreading plane–tree, and the agnus castus high and clustering, in the fullest blossom and the greatest fragrance; and the stream which flows beneath the plane–tree is deliciously cold to the feet. Judging from the ornaments and images, this must be a spot sacred to Achelous and the Nymphs. How delightful is the breeze:—so very sweet; and there is a sound in the air shrill and summerlike which makes answer to the chorus of the cicadae. But the greatest charm of all is the grass, like a pillow gently sloping to the head. My dear Phaedrus, you have been an admirable guide.
Phaedrus: What an incomprehensible being you are, Socrates: when you are in the country, as you say, you really are like some stranger who is led about by a guide. Do you ever cross the border? I rather think that you never venture even outside the gates. [Phaedrus: Written by Plato. A dialogue between Plato's main protagonist, Socrates, and Phaedrus, an interlocutor. The Phaedrus was presumably composed around 370 BC - source: Wikipedia]
It was eerie, strange but beautiful. More so because cicadas have a very long life cycle of about seventeen years, and I was there to hear them proclaim their presence. [More on the cyclical appearance of cicadas here].
But I simply thought it was Larry, communicating to us (or if I can be a little conceited, to me). I suspect the sounds and sights from beyond the grave are nothing like what we know here on earth. And Larry's sonorous voice would need sturdy and strong carriers to travel those distances.
I posted part of Yeats' poem The Song of the Happy Shepherd in my post I must be gone: there is a grave, with my photograph of daffodils, and later on in the post an image of Larry reclining, next to a photograph of mine I took of a tree in the Cloister gardens in New York.
I wrote:
I have juxtaposed a photograph of a tree with one of Larry leaning back as though resting on the trunk of the tree, with the paradisaical gardens of the Cloisters within his arm's reach.
I must be gone: there is a grave
Where daffodil and lily wave,
And I would please the hapless faun,
Buried under the sleepy ground,
With mirthful songs before the dawn.
[From “The Song of the Happy Shepherd” by W.B. Yeats]
I could substitute the American flags, right across in the Veteran's section, for the daffodil and the lily, which were gently waving in the breeze.
Presence of Deer
I saw these droppings in front of Larry's grave, and asked the groundsman if they were rabbit. He told me they belonged to deer, which apparently frequent the wooded cemetery.
I thought it was apt, and they reminded me of Herbert Howells' Like as the Hart (from Psalm 42), which I have sung many times as a chorister.
As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
2 My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?
3 My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?
4 When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday.
5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.
6 O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.
7 Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.
8 Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the day time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.
9 I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
10 As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?
11 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.
Like as the Hart Desireth the Waterbrooks
Herbert Howells
Choir of St. Paul's Cathedral
All the photos were taken by me, except for the aerial map of the cemetery.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted By: Kidist P. Asrat
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
