Running on a river contributes to my physical and mental well being. Today, I reflected on the riparian visions grounding me in times of crisis. I then thought about how and why rivers came to play such an important role in my ability to remain (relatively) calm in the face of emotional confusion or unhealthy urges. In doing so, I recognized a need to return to a schedule of regular runs along my present home river, the Wabash.
I spent twenty years calling the city of "Dirty Water" home before moving to Lafayette, IN. The years collapse and intermingle and then come together again, making life in my twenties and thirties a series of random flashes, much like a meteor shower. At some point in the late-1980s, I lived with Maryclaire and our red-haired friend Amy in a brownstone in Cambridgeport. Amy, whom I once touted as my soul mate, introduced me to some of the most important things in life, like folk music and noodle kugel. In our apartment at Fairmont Avenue, we attempted the impossible: squeezing three independent and individual women into two and a half bedrooms. It was more than the low rent that led us to perform this herculean and ultimately impractical feat. It was also the exquisiteness of the well-placed apartment. The turn-of-the-twentieth-century structure had open faced brick walls, hardwood floors and an old-fashioned tub with feet. It was an irresistible space, in part, because Amy's dad, the landlord-carpenter, was inspired by the simple lines of Shaker design.
I spent twenty years calling the city of "Dirty Water" home before moving to Lafayette, IN. The years collapse and intermingle and then come together again, making life in my twenties and thirties a series of random flashes, much like a meteor shower. At some point in the late-1980s, I lived with Maryclaire and our red-haired friend Amy in a brownstone in Cambridgeport. Amy, whom I once touted as my soul mate, introduced me to some of the most important things in life, like folk music and noodle kugel. In our apartment at Fairmont Avenue, we attempted the impossible: squeezing three independent and individual women into two and a half bedrooms. It was more than the low rent that led us to perform this herculean and ultimately impractical feat. It was also the exquisiteness of the well-placed apartment. The turn-of-the-twentieth-century structure had open faced brick walls, hardwood floors and an old-fashioned tub with feet. It was an irresistible space, in part, because Amy's dad, the landlord-carpenter, was inspired by the simple lines of Shaker design.
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