If you find yourself in Philadelphia

you might want to check out a photography exhibit that my dad - Will Brown - is part of at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Common Ground: Eight Philadelphia Photographers in the 1960s and 1970s.

The show is up until January 31, 2010. My father has (I think) 22 photographs in the show, all showing buildings and a few people in South Philadelphia, where we lived when I was born.

It's pretty exciting for him. Though he's made photography a career, he pursued the commercial side of it, and the good stuff (ie what's in the show) is mostly work he did because it interested him.

I'm super proud.

Follow your dreams.

running (for a cure)

I think I mentioned a few months back that I'd started running. It all began in mid-February, when 3 people asked in one week if I was a runner, and then my friend Joanna (who was then visiting from Seattle) asked me if I wanted to run with her before I went to work. She and I ran for about a mile in the park, and it was completely glorious to be outside for an extended period in the winter. Joanna also talked about her recent conversion to running, and I was struck with the inspiration to start training on my own.

I think I should mention that I've tried running before, but without success. In middle school we had to run a timed mile every year, and it was something I dreaded for months ahead of time. In high school I actually quit playing lacrosse because I hated running so much, and in college I used to jog with a friend of mine, but we never went more than a mile. Even more recently I have run sporadically in the park, but again never went farther than about a mile.

This time, I downloaded some Couch-to-5k podcasts. The program involves running 3 times a week over the course of 9 weeks, and eases you into running in a very manageable way. About half way through my program, I realized that I'd reach the goal (5k) around the time my cousins run their annual Race for the Cure 5k in Philadelphia, which is held yearly on Mother's Day. They invited me to join them, and my runs began to take on a purpose.

Needless to say, last week was week 9 of my training and the race was on Sunday morning. Last Monday I ran my first 3 miles at the gym (the rain kept me indoors) and on Thursday afternoon I ran what I thought was about 3 miles in the park. And on Sunday morning, after a nervous night's sleep, I found myself here:

That's me waving to my cousins across the crowd.

My cousins are Real Runners, meaning that they do things like train for marathons, and one of them has a treadmill in her garage. In the period leading up to the race, they kept telling me that I'd find the race to be a piece of cake, that it was only 5 kilometers. Well, they were right. The worst part was probably the first third of the race, when I couldn't stop coughing (I think I had a bug in my throat or something) and then I got a stitch in my right side. My cousin's husband (also a marathon runner, who was running with us) advised me to reach my right hand over my shoulder and to lean back a little. The stitch went away almost immediately, and the rest was downhill (well, not literally, but it felt much easier). We finished the race in about 32 minutes.

Christopher, who didn't sleep the night before due to my nervous tossing and turning, dragged himself down and took some photos of me at the finish line. He's a good sport.I shouldn't forget to mention the fact that we were running in order to raise money for Breast Cancer. I raised $140 from donations. There were roughly 35,000 people participating in the run/walk, and I found being in that crowd rather sobering. Many people (including my cousins and I) were running in memory of a loved one, and some had signs celebrating their mom or sister or whatnot. Perhaps I was feeling overwhelmed by the race and early hour anyway, but while Christopher and I were wandering around trying to find my cousins I must have cried 3 or 4 times reading people's signs. Once I found my cousins, they advised me to stop reading people's signs, since they were so upsetting. Good idea.Anyway, I did it! and it wasn't such a big deal. Strangely, now that I've reached my goal, I don't feel like running anymore. I know that this is a mistake, that I should keep going, even if it's just to maintain my distance, but it's hard to get out there and run!

a second panorama

I think we (ie my father) have solved the problem of how to post the panorama on a blog. Here is a view of the street I grew up on, and where my parents still live.

I recommend viewing this very large. Just click on the X at the bottom of the image.

I have been tempted to change the layout of this blog for a while; I have found the column rather narrow and the colors overwhelming. Please let me know how you like this simpler layout.

a new feature

My father, a photographer, has been making panorama photographs. In the past few weeks, he's sent me links to 4 new ones, and I thought it might be interesting to post one on this blog every week.

(I still haven't figured out how to post the actual panorama to my blog -it's run by Flash, which apparently Blogger won't support- but if you click this link you will go to the panorama associated with this image.)

This is my parents' roof, after a big storm on Sunday. Because a panorama is basically a bunch of still photographs stitched together, my father was able to put himself in the photo, along with my mom. The structure to the left of my mother is their solar hot water heater. And behind her is Eastern State Penitentiary. When I was a child I thought that the penitentiary was actually a castle, and I had fantasies about one day living there. (A child can dream.)

home again

Oh, we are back! I can't wait to sleep in our very firm queen sized bed tonight; the sag and smallness of the double bed at my parents' does not agree with my back! (sorry Mom!)

Tuesday night my father showed us his bounty-- many textiles bought in India. Many of the fabrics are meant as Christmas gifts, but before he went my mother and I somehow convinced him to buy yardage and what he brought us is gorgeous. I am moving closer and closer to doing some sort of quilting, though there's yardage enough of these prints for a dress or skirt, and should probably think carefully about whether I'll make a quilt. He also bought many beautiful scarves and several quilts, most of which I didn't photograph.

Our Thanksgiving was fairly uneventful. My mother, Christopher and I cooked for most of the day on Thursday. My father watched the first part of Game 5 of the World Series, which he'd TiVoed but not yet watched. Christopher's family came at around 4, and we had dinner on the table at exactly 5, which was actually quite amazing. (Amazing in that 5 o'clock was the goal, and we met it.) The food was pretty good, the company fine and the night not too long. The house actually warmed up quite a bit with the oven and various wood fires that my father got going once he arrived. (Apparently hooking up all the vents was just too big a project and was not done by the end of the day on Wednesday.) It was comfortable and no one complained. The pies were delicious.
Today we had a very friendly visit with my Brown cousins, and then we hopped a bus back to New York. Christopher is actually currently making pasta sauce, since he doesn't like the vodka sauce I bought. I'm trying not to get too excited about this, but those who know him should know to be impressed. This is a man who subsisted on pizza, yogurt and breakfast cereal before we moved in together, and who actually made a fuss when I suggested that we would share meals nightly as a married couple. This man is now making pasta sauce, without a recipe and while I blog in the other room. I'm trying not to be too hopeful that this is a sign of our future together, but man, it would be nice!

coldness

I've left New York for the holiday, taking the bus to Philadelphia this morning with a promise to go through my old closet and throw things away so my parents could have a little less clutter.

I got here ready to do some major closet cleaning, but it wasn't so clear what I was supposed to sort through, and my mom was at work, so I spent a few hours rereading letters I'd received from friends when I was in college. What's most interesting about these letters is that they were written right on the cusp of email-- one friend tells me that she has a new account that she's sharing with a friend-- and there are no letters from friends who did have email. There are also some really sweet and funny notes from my grandfather, who had just turned 90 and was designing and building a secretary for me. It's nice to remember that he was so sharp and witty; he was so frail and grumpy his final few years. (He lived to be 99 and a half, if you're wondering.)

I'm currently waiting for my mother to get home from teaching. Christopher is coming tonight and my dad is also flying in from his vacation to India (yeah, I know). My father is a major DIYer, and sometime this summer he disconnected the heat vents in order to do some maintenance (perhaps he was going to install an AC unit?), and never bothered to reconnect them. It wasn't so bad throughout the fall, but the last few weeks --weeks when Dad was in balmy India-- my mother has been freezing here. The house is very drafty and has 14' ceilings, so it's also not so easy to just cuddle up with a space heater. Hopefully this will be solved before Thursday, but in the meantime I'm cold. It's almost paralyzing. I am baking some sweet potatoes in hopes that the kitchen will warm up a few degrees, and I have on my hat and a heavy wool sweater and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I wish I had my fingerless gloves...

(photo added 11/28)

we are the champions!

I went back to Philadelphia yesterday afternoon. It was totally worth a second trip, though it was eerie to sit in the same seats with the same people around us. The guy who gave me my rally towel told me that this was like Groundhog Day. Yeah, it was like we'd never left.
The crowd was about 100 times more enthusiastic than on Monday. (Not being drenched makes a big difference in one's morale) We barely sat down, and were quickly hoarse from the chanting and yelling.Did you hear that we won? Not just the game, but the WORLD SERIES!??We took the subway back to where we'd parked near Spring Garden Street, and when we emerged from the station there were tons of people streaming down Broad Street to City Hall. Everyone was honking and cheering. I thought that they only celebrated like this in Europe; clearly my teams don't win often enough!The parade is tomorrow. I don't think I'll be going back down to Philly for a third time this week; I think I actually need to go to work...

rain delayed

Those of you who don't live in Philadelphia and who might not follow baseball may not realize that the Philadelphia Phillies are in the World Series.
The Phillies. My team.

OK. I'm not the best fan. I follow the team mostly for my dad's sake, and until last week I didn't even know who the players were. At all. Last time I checked, Lenny Dykstra was the main guy. But that was 15 years ago, the last time they were in the World Series.

Christopher and I have been watching this year's World Series games, which have typically had surprise endings in the early morning in which the Phillies magically win. It's been fun learning about the players, and were as surprised as anyone else when the pitcher magically hit a home run in Game 4. Going into Game 5, the Phillies just needed one more game to win the Series, which they haven't done since 1980, when I was in kindergarten.

This is all a lead up to the fact that my father had two tickets to last night's game, and that he had asked me to go with him. This was the game that could win the Series!! I can't really describe the excitement I felt, except to state that I decided that I had to knit a hat for my father to wear to the game. That's how excited I was. Half the people on the bus to Philadelphia were wearing Phillies gear, and when I got off the bus everyone else had it on too.

The spirit was in the air. Winning was within reach!

We took the subway to the field (which is super nice for a stadium, I have to say) and found our seats. Here was our view. Yeah, not so great. And it was kind of chilly, even though we'd dressed for the weather. And before long, it began to rain. At first it wasn't so bad, but then it began to drench us.

We were miserable and disappointed. Here was all this hype, a game that could lift this city's spirits, and we weren't enjoying it. We couldn't see. We were wet. We were cold. I was longing for a lap blanket, and my father started talking about how nice it would be to watch the game from home, in front of the fireplace. Being dry and warm sounded very appealing.Other fans began to leave. I noticed that my feet were sitting in a puddle. In between innings a grounds crew would come out and put more dirt on the diamond. It took forever and it only made us more depressed. Eventually, after the Rays tied the game 2-2 and players were slipping in puddles and dropping balls, the crew started to pull out the tarp. We knew this was it for the night, and headed home.

My enthusiasm is dampened. The game has been postponed to Wednesday night, due to even more disgusting weather today, and though I'd still like to be there for a win, and hopefully a better game, I feel a little betrayed by the whole event. I know a lot of fans are angry about the game, that it was scheduled to start so late and that it went on for so long. But I shouldn't hold that against the Phils, right?