Rooftop's Cover Story - The Other Washington Monument

This is the monument from which the masthead photo for Rooftop Reviews was taken. If you're reading this I assume that you have noticed that photo before. My only problem with it is the size. It's too big and I have thought of replacing it, but the photo has a special place in my heart. Let me tell you about it...

I was living in Baltimore in 1983 when I met my wife, Sue. I lived 2 blocks from the Washington Monument- no, not the one in Washington, D.C., but the first one, built with public lottery funds. Beginning in 1799, $100,000 was collected, and in 1815 work was begun. In 1829 the 178 foot tall Doric column with Washington standing atop, opened to the public. They thronged to ascend the 228 steps to the top of the city's highest vantage point of the time.

It is still one of the most beautiful of the many monuments in Baltimore. Sue and I used to walk and talk there in the evenings when we were first seeing one another. After a while I tricked her into marrying me and we moved out to the County to raise our family.

Fast forward to about 1994. The Monument had been closed for some years due to interior structural problems. A Citizens Committee had resolved these issues and the Monument (located on Monument and Charles Streets) was now open again. You could, for a $1 contribution, climb to the top. And so, we did. Sue took several photos looking in all directions. My favorite is this one- looking North up Charles St.

In the foreground and to the right is the Methodist Church made with green stone from local quarries. The Church sits across from the unseen Peabody Institute of Music and the Walthers Art Gallery. Looking further to the rear and in the center is the 13 story Belvedere Hotel which was also home to the Engineers Society of Maryland at the time. The whole monument sits in an oasis of a park that bisects Charles Street.

The best part of the memory associated with this photo is the actual climb up a circular stairway reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty. The brick and mortar interior was eerie and a little damp- ideal in the summertime, cool- like a cave. With several openings at different levels there were some beautiful vistas of the harbor and surrounding areas. But I always liked the view from the top best of all.

I think it's because we made the climb with me carrying our daughter most of the way. And when we were done we were so exhausted, coming out into the heat of a summer’s day. But it's something that we did together and really enjoyed. The original of this photo hangs in our bedroom. It serves as a reminder to us of all the climbs we have made together through the years.

Old Slides #2 - Learning How to Fly (1957)

Most photos have a “back story” to them; where and when the photo was taken being the least important of the details. What happened just before the shutter clicked can be very revealing in some cases. And that’s what makes the photograph above, which is one of a series taken on Veteran’s day 1957, so unusual. There is none.

As I sift through the old family photos I can find very few where there is not something else that has just occurred which mars the memory a bit. Behind most of the smiling faces there was either a very recent scolding, argument or some other stupid and unnecessary problem. No one is really to blame for that; it’s just the dynamics of an ordinary family living and growing; together or apart.

But, let’s get back to this photograph which was taken over 57 years ago. This one is of me and my Dad. I’m the little guy holding the string. He’s the big guy showing me how to fly the kite. It was one of those big paper kites; bright red and with a tail made of rags. We were at Riis Park; for some reason we were always at Riis Park; winter or summer. I’m not complaining; I loved the place!

Riis Park was named after Jacob Riis, the famous campaigner for decent housing and social reform. His photographs of the Lower East Side at the turn of the 20^th Century are iconic. He championed airways in the tenements and windows in every room. It was only fitting that a bright, sunny, public beach be named for him.

Once again; back to this photograph. In the years after this was taken; remember I said that every picture has a “back story”? Well, this one really has more of a “front story”, as it was taken less than 2 years before my mother began a long illness, which permeated my entire childhood. I didn't really mind, I just always hoped that she would get better; but she never did.

So, this photo is one of the rare ones in which my Dad is smiling and really means it. Life was good. He had just been through the only job “layoff” he would ever know, and also had pneumonia, one of the only times I had ever seen him ill. The other time was when he gave up smoking in 1962 or ’63 after the Surgeon General’s first warning about cigarettes causing cancer. He didn't even wait until the warning was on the pack. He just stopped. And was very ill; throwing up and bedridden for several days. It was cold turkey, just like heroin withdrawal. He may have lapsed once or twice in the first few years after, but never went back to smoking full time again. Instead he discovered M&M’s.

We would go grocery shopping on Thursday nights when my mother wasn't in the hospital; and my Dad would buy a box of Peanut Chews, or a 1 pound bag of M&M's, which we would eat before getting home.When my Mom was in the hospital, either my brother or I would pick up what was necessary ourselves. We used a pull along type folding “shopping cart” to wheel the groceries home. My brother was not fond of this chore; I think he found it embarrassing for some reason; so I was usually the one “bringing home the bacon.”

So, this is a picture of my father before all the bad times began. It’s also part of a set of 14 photographs taken that day. My Dad’s teaching me how to fly a kite, a skill which I have passed on to my daughter and 2 of my granddaughters. And whenever I look at this photo I remember what it was like to have my parents and my brother, before all the bad times began.

Father's Day Loot!

Today is Father’s day so I get presents, phone calls and a day off. I’m sitting next to the banana tree Sue brought me, holding the chocolates and Olive Soap and Black Tea which I love so much. The soap and tea are from Sarah, the chocolates from Sue, and this picture was taken yesterday!

The best part, aside from eating at one of our favorite restaurants, will be the phone calls from the boys and our granddaughters. Last week, Aliyah, our oldest granddaughter; she’s nine; called us out of the blue just to say hi. Man, it doesn't get better than that.

Happy Father’s Day to all of the Dad’s out there. We did well!

New Car, Fording a Stream, Graveyard and the Cat

Old cars; like people; wear out with age, necessitating our looking for a new car. Or, to be more accurate; a new used car to fit our budget. We picked up this incredibly clean and rec-conditioned Toyota Corolla, in large part because it felt so familiar to us from the moment we sat in it. We have owned Toyota's for many years, and even with the occasional problem, have found them to be reliable

Now, when road testing a new car; used or otherwise; it is important to learn the limitations of your machine. So, to that end, we drove to Chapel Hill; which is about 2 hours away; to see our daughter and ford a stream. It did seem a bit ironic to “ford” a stream in a Japanese car, but it was a pretty day with just a bit of snow left over on some of the grassy areas making the day seem a little more special.

The stream is located just near this gravesite, which is the resting place for the original Morgan and Mason families. I wasn’t really paying attention to the specifics of the place, so I don’t know who they were. The magnolias were fresh and crisp, as they always are in North Carolina at this time of year. They are such stately trees, and I couldn’t help but think about those who lie beneath the ground, and wonder if they had become part of those trees. That’s where I want to go when my time comes. To become part of a tree seems a fitting way to leave something positive and alive behind when you have passed on. In a way, it’s a form of immortality, standing with leafy arms outstretched, providing shade and fragrant blossoms for the living.

Meantime; back home; the cat waits, sitting in the flower pot on our neighbor’s porch, watching and waiting for our return home. He worries about us, he cares about us, he frets when we are late. He wants his tuna fish.

Italian Cookies and Edgar Allan Poe

This is really just a story about my daughter, Sarah, and the trips we used to make into Baltimore each weekend to fly kites at Fort McHenry, eat Italian cookies in Little Italy, stop in to visit Edgar Allan Poe’s grave, visit “our” gold collection at the Walthers Art Gallery, and even look at the open air drug markets which were thriving in the ‘90’s.  That’s right; I used to take my daughter down to the seediest areas of “Pigtown”; as it was called back then; and show her the crack whores and junkies in an effort to let her visualize the consequences of hard drug use; particularly cocaine and heroin; in any form.

Guess what? It worked.  The human skeletons walking the streets, along with the drug runners touting their wares, gave her a bird’s eye view of the pitfalls on that road.  And along the way we got to do a lot of fun stuff; some of which I am now recalling with great joy as I get older and sit in an empty nest. 

This is Sarah outside the gate to the Fayette Street Entrance to the gravesite of Edgar Allan Poe. That’s his marker in the center of the photo beyond the gates. Apparently Sarah is trying to get in. Just a few years ago she wrote a piece for school in which she describes herself as not having known who Poe was at that age. She thought we were visiting the grave of one of my friends.

We also joined the Walthers Art Gallery on Monument Street, which has a fantastic collection of gold; both coinage as well as artifacts. We dubbed this to be “our” gold, in the sense that we had paid a yearly membership fee, and so the gold was accessible to us at virtually all times, which made us both feel really wealthy. We also had memberships at the Baltimore Zoo, where we had some friends in the animal kingdom. Elephants were always pretty popular with us both, as were the Otters. The Giraffes; on the other hand; were rude and slobbering beasts with whom we spent very little time. But for seals, we always went to the National Aquarium; located in the Harborplace; our favorite was Ike, the oldest; and bewhiskered; seal who was the boss of the pack.

On the way home we would usually stop at my friend Ollie’s house. He ran a junkshop, much like the one shown on “Sanford and Son”. His living room was a colorful collection of many discordant things which somehow all blended together to form a lively and unique tapestry, all its own.

 

Our best adventure was the time our kite was up about 500 feet; or more; and came crashing down on the opposite side of the channel, between Ft. McHenry and Fells Point. We went to retrieve it from the oil tanker we thought it had crashed on, only to find that it wasn’t there. I was for giving up, but Sarah insisted that we keep looking for it up by the basin just west of Fells Point. I thought it was a waste of time, but we went looking anyway. Low and behold, in comes a small 24 foot motorboat, manned by two yuppie types, and what does Sarah spot on the thwart ship seat but our kite! We approached the two and asked for the kite in the nicest way possible, but they were more than vocal about having their prop fouled by over 500 feet of 80 pound test kite string, and more to the point, seemed unwilling to return it.

There are times when being a father requires one to “step up to the plate”, and, knowing that if I did not I would have to spring for another kite helped me tremendously. I stepped down to the boat’s railing and quietly explained that the kite wasn’t mine, but rather belonged to my 8 year old daughter, and that I was willing to do whatever it took to retrieve it. Reading the meaning in my eyes, the kite was returned forthwith, and lived to fly for several more years before coming to an inglorious end in the surf at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. It was a lot harder to argue with the winds and surf of mother nature than 2 yuppies, and so the kite was retired; actually it was buried at sea.

It’s so easy to get lost in the everyday troubles of raising children. We often forget the good moments, dwelling instead upon the bad times. At least that’s the way I can be at times; most of the time if you want to know the truth. And that’s what I like so much about those Italian cookies. Whenever I have them I remember the cold days in March, flying kites with my daughter at Ft. McHenry and sipping tea in Little Italy afterwards. And from there it’s just a hop, skip and jump to all of the other good memories. It doesn’t erase the bad times; but it sure makes having gone through them worthwhile; just for the memories.

Father's Day

This beautiful cactus was given to me by my daughter Sarah for Father’s day. It bloomed just in time. And it will keep on doing that for years to come. She was moving this weekend; the first time that she has lived in a different city than Sue and I; and so I will not see her until next weekend. Our other two sons, Keith and Shane, live in New York and Texas; respectively; and though we have gotten used to that, we miss seeing more of our grandkids.

The cactus is an important link between Sarah and I. She was vacationing with friends, years ago, as a kid, on the Outer Banks, where she dug some sand cactus up to bring home to me. Nobody, not even I, thought that it would survive the winter weather inland. Well, it did, and has split into a couple of groups, traveling from house to house with Sue and I over the years. Each year, around this time, they too, give me beautiful blooms. It makes me think about the doubters out there, myself included, who didn’t think the plant would survive.

Another, very special gift is the Red Robin Beanie Babie pictured below, nestled with the other 2 gifts. That was a present I gave Sarah when she was sick about 14 years ago. She had scores of them, most of which are housed in my garage. She only took a few when she married and moved out. But, she took the Robin, which always made me feel extra special.  Now that she will be living so far away (a bit more than 2 hours – or, the other end of the earth) she has returned it to me, and I will keep it close at hand as a way of feeling close to her.

Being a father is tough, but being my kid was probably tougher in many ways. It’s hard to grow up, and it’s hard to grow old. There’s no winning the war against time. It merely marches on past us, leaving us in its wake. No matter; I will always have this Robin to remind me of the daughter who learned to fly. And that  trumps any sense of loss I will ever feel.

Sarah's Cactus - A Living Gift

My daughter, Sarah, brought this spiny looking cactus home from a trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina something like 10 years ago. I think the town was called Duck. She was vacationing there with her friend Lindsey, and her family, and decided to dig the cactus up from the sand and take it home to me. Everybody laughed, saying that it would never survive. Ah, but he who laughs last, laughs best.

Every 2 years; like clockwork; this spiny little portion of the original mass which Sarah brought home to me, sprouts the most beautiful yellow blossom. And, for the short time it remains; which is something like a month; it reminds me of the hopes and dreams of children everywhere. And in that space of time, I really do believe that nothing is impossible.

Sometimes referred to as the “Yellow Rose” of Texas, this is what dreams are made of.

"The Beaver" - A True Life Tale by Michael Hoffman

My daughter Sarah, and her husband Michael, were out paddling about in the creek which runs behind their apartment. The creek leads to a part of Lake Norman which is filled with wildlife of all descriptions. It is not all that unusual to see a heron, or groups of geese (I think that's called a "gaggle")as well as various wildlife ashore, which include deer, raccoons, groundhogs and, in this case, the occasional beaver. This is the text of the e-mail from Michael, sent while still paddling about. Technology, ain't it grand?

IT'S A BEAVER!!!

During our excursion over the nearby portion of the lake, Sarah and I were relaxing when your daughter glimpsed something just peeking from the water's surface, moving across the inlet.

"A water-dwelling mammal!"she exclaimed and led the way as we took our individual inflatable rafts to follow in the creature's wake. After it disappeared beneath the surface, Sarah spotted it once again, eating leaves calmly as it edged out of the water. For nearly one half of an hour we watched the beaver eat, and I endeavored to capture it's presence with the low quality camera on my cellular phone. What I have attached to this e-mail is the best of my attempts, and while it may not be visible here, we guarantee you it's tail was flat, and glorious.

Happy Valentine's Day - and a Birthday, too!

Happy Valentine's Day to my wife of 24 years, Sue. Without her I would walk into walls, sleep in theaters, and sometimes find myself face down in my dinner. Well, maybe I still do, but not quite as often as I would without her in my life. We still annoy one another in small ways, as most married couples do, but we also still enjoy one another. And that is the secret of being in love.

We had a rough beginning, and probably didn't get it right for the first few years, maybe we still don't. But we have always clung to one another on this rocky ride we all call life. We have had a daughter together, raised two sons, and lived to tell the tale. And that's no small feat! So, Happy Valentine's Day, Sue, you will always be my partner in life, even if I am a grouch...

And that brings me to my daughter, Sarah. Here I am, holding her at about 3AM in the morning on Valentine's Day 1987, which just so happens to be her birthday. We tend to do things around holiday times. We were married on the Fourth of July, had Sarah on Valentine's Day, and she got married on Halloween. Go figure... But she has bought much joy into our lives, and so I just wanted to wish her a Happy 24th birthday. As I told her last night, "May you never lose direction, and all your horizons lay just beyond your reach. In that way you will always strive to be more." We now return to our regular broadcast.

Sue Pensinger Williams - DAR

My wife, Sue Pensinger Williams, has just this week received her membership certificate for the Daughters of the American Revolution. This organization is comprised of women who have a blood relative in the family that fought, or died, in the American Revolution.

Sue's great grandfather, five times removed, was Henry Pensinger. He was a member of the Pennsylvania Militia when the Revolution broke out. He traveled across 2 mountain ranges to fight at the 2nd Battle of Ticonderoga, in upstate New York. This was no easy task. Just getting there took months of humping everything they would need over the mountains. Think of it, cannon, ammunition, guns, horses and food, all had to be carried to the scene of battle. It was this fight in which Henry Pensinger was injured, incurred frostbite and lost his leg. Then he first had to go home, over those same two mountain ranges. That he would have been in great pain the entire way goes without saying.

The Daughters of the American Revolution have had some darker moments in their history, most notably when they denied Marian Anderson permission to sing in front of an integrated audience at Constitution Hall in 1939. President Roosevelts wife, Eleanor, herself a member of the DAR, actually resigned over this and on Easter Sunday, Marian Anderson did sing, on the steps of the new Lincoln Memorial.

Since that time, the mission of the DAR has largely been one as the caretaker of the nations monuments, providing scholarships, and keeping track of all the descendants of the veterans of the American Revolution. The best part of this is that as people have intermarried over the years, the face of the DAR has become multi-cultural. And now my daughter, Sarah, is a member as well. I wonder what Pincus Max Marcus, my grandfather, who arrived here from Poland in 1911, would think of that!

The Graduate

My daughter, Sarah Ruth Williams Hoffman graduated Cum Laude yesterday afternoon from Winthrop University. At 22 years of age she has been married for 4 years to Michael Hoffman. He has been instrumental in her having arrived at her goal.

I was fine until Sue started to cry and I found myself getting a bit weepy because of it. But it has been a long journey to this day. Most of the credit goes to Sarah,of course, but her brothers and sister in laws, as well as my wife Sue,were all major forces behind Sarahs' accomplishment.

This photo was taken by my daughter in law Becky Hart. Congratulations Sarah- we love you and you make us proud!