Today my sister, brother, brother-in-law and I drove into the city, actually found parking (for $30.00) stood in line to get the “cheap” show tickets, then explored until showtime.  We wandered through Bryant park, watching people play boche ball in their business shirt sleeves, play chess, eat their lunch and read their newspapers in the beautiful spring air.  We stopped in a fabric shop that had thousands of different buttons and trims, which my sister just about swooned over, in the fashion district, then on to Grand Central Station and beyond that to the Chrysler Building.  All fun things to do, and we made it back to the show, “Young Frankenstine” with 45 minutes to spare!  The show was funny, we had good seats, we were entertained while sitting down.  You can’t beat that!  After a quick dinner we drove back to NJ in Wednesday afternoon rush hour; I sat in the back of the car and didn’t watch the car/truck/bus in front of us.  It was better that way.

Tomorrow we are going to “The Jersey Shore.”  The ocean will seem quiet after the din of the past three days.

This morning we got up early again and took the train into NYC;  we’re getting to be old hands at this now.  Then we caught our sight-seeing bus down to Battery Park and stood in line for almost two hours to catch a boat over to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  We decided we had gotten the best view of the Statue of Liberty from the boat, so we didn’t get off there, but continued on to Ellis Island.  There we spent over three hours, reading and learning about what it was like to come to America between 1900 and the 1920’s, the “peak” immigration years.  It must have been frightening.  There are pictures of the immigrants everywhere, their eyes haunted.  The portraits of the children look like any children anywhere; they could be us when we were small, or our parents, even our own children.  It’s strange to realize they are all probably gone now.  The stories are sad and joyous and crazy and sometimes just plain weird.  It’s a humbling experience to realize just what lengths some people went through to come to a place we were just lucky to be born into.

As I sat in the giant registration hall, listening to the voices of visitors bouncing off of the harringbone brick curved barrel ceiling, the sun glinting in through the huge arched windows, I wondered what sounds had been soaked into the grout there, the sounds of all the thousands of people that had been there before me, and I wished that I could hear some of their voices for myself.  The museum, it turns out, lets you do just that; there are several locations where the stories are told in recordings of the aging immigrants themselves.  It’s an amazing experience and one I would recommend to everyone.

Later in the afternoon we stood in line to get back on a boat, and I happened to sit next to a young woman who sounded like she was from London.  She asked me what was on the island that we had just left.  Obviously she hadn’t gotten off the boat, probably went only to the Statute.  I said it was Ellis Island.  She looked blank.  I told her it was the location that processed people trying to come to America in the early 20th century.  She looked even more confused and said that her history was terrible.  I described a bit of what I had seen and she seemed satisfied if not enlightened, and turned away.  But really, how much do I know of HER country’s history, so I don’t blame her for not knowing, just for not getting off the boat and finding out for herself.

One quote from an Italian immigrant circa 1912:

“I always heard that in America the streets were paved in gold.  I came to America and I learned three things.  1.  The streets are not paved in gold.  2.  The streets are not paved at all.  3.  I am expected to pave the streets.”

Brother and I drove to NJ on Sunday.  A beautiful drive through Ohio and Pennsylvania hills and mountains in spring!  Yesterday brother and sister and I rode a train into the city of New York and walked.  And walked.  And went to the top of the Empire State Building (which in my mind I keep calling the Eifle Tower, wishful thinking I guess) then rode a tour bus down to Chinatown and walked over to the Brooklyn Bridge and across it.  Ate in a Greek diner in Brooklyn, then rode the tour bus around Brooklyn a bit until it broke down in front of the Brooklyn Public Library!  Which gave me time to hang out at the library, even on vacation!  We eventually wound back up in midtown at Times Square around 6 p.m.  Our feet were tired so we found Penn Station again and rode the train back home.  Slept good!

Today we are taking the train back to the city (feet are protesting) and riding the tour bus down to catch the ferry to Ellis Island.  Then maybe back up to Central Park or whatever catches our eye.  Hopefully no more broken down buses.  And more riding and less walking, but that remains to be seen.

Ah freedom!

Yesterday I met with a fellow graduate, intending to go to the DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts) for the afternoon.  Instead, since it wasn’t raining, we headed to my favorite park, Kensington, so that I could show her the blue herons building their nests.  Then we decided rather than go into Detroit we’d walk around the lake.  Eight miles.  Ok, I thought, I can do that, I’ve run around that lake countless times.  Years ago of course.  And I wasn’t dressed in the proper shoes or socks.  So by mile 5 I was taking off the socks, and by mile 7 I was limping.  Today I have two huge blisters, and I can barely walk at all.

My brother is flying in tomorrow and Sunday we are driving to New Jersey for a few days in the big city of New York.  Which involves a lot of walking.  So I am telling my feet to hurry up and heal.  I have also given up on cleaning the house (oh darn) before he comes, opting instead to sit with feet up, popping asprin.  I can’t believe I did this to myself. 

On a more positive note, I spent a lot of time today putting together the paperwork to apply for a librarian position in a local library.  I would really like to get this job, even as much as I’d like the summer off.  So I hope I got it all perfect, it was mailed this afternoon.  Wish me luck!

I saw a short interview with Sidney Poitier this morning.  He has a new book coming out, letters to his great granddaughter.  He was talking about how he chose which movie to make and he said he made 56 movies, but accepted none of them before he passed them by his father.  Even after his father was “long gone” he said, he passed the movie ideas by his dad.  And then his eyes filled up and his throat closed and he raised his hands, suddenly vulnerable, and then folded them in his lap.  He took a deep breath and said he did this so that he never made a movie that would dishonor his father’s values. 

I found this so touching, that he could be overcome by the memory of his father even after so many years.  Mr. Poitier is 81 years old and thoughts of his father immediately bring tears to his eyes.  The bond between them is still strong.  That’s heartening to realize because sometimes in the fury of the day I wonder if I am losing that connection with my own father.  This morning, with tears in my own eyes I know I never will.

Turns out all my best laid plans have been delayed, as one of husband’s aunts died Saturday, the day I attended commencement on the Diag.  When we got home from the ceremony the news was waiting for us and since then I have been engulfed in family.  The funeral was today so tomorrow I am going to get back to the cleaning and looking for work schedule.

This blog was intended to document the transformation of a banker into a student into a librarian.  I’ll have to consider whether to continue it now that I’ve graduated back to the real world.  Stay tuned while I decide…

I attended my school graduation yesterday afternoon, and the massive general graduation this morning.  I think by going through two ceremonies I have convinced myself that I am truly finished with school; truly a graduate, and what’s even more strange, a Michigan alumni!  Who would have thought that a Spartan from way back, one whose blood runs green, could actually get excited and even a little tearful at becoming a “Michigan Woman!”  Go figure.

Bob Woodruff, the keynote speaker at this morning’s commencement made the point that we graduates shouldn’t fear change.  He used himself as an example.  He was a lawyer making big money in San Fransisco when he knew for sure he wanted to be a journalist.  He left that high paying job for one that paid $12,000 a year to do something he loved.  And even though he “got blown up” doing it (his words) I think he has no regrets.  I don’t have any regrets either, (though I do hope that librarianship will not get me blown up);  it’s a wonderful thing to feel like you are doing what you were meant to be doing.

Now I just have to find somewhere that will hire me to do it!

Today was really the “last day” in Ann Arbor; the last day of being there as a student and Public Librarian Associate.  I worked the reference desk from 9-1…well from 9-12:20 when they held a little impromtu party for me in the back and other people covered the desk for me.  Then I turned in my badge and walked away.  Some people had tears in their eyes, which surprised me, I’ve only been there a year, and though I guess it was sort of sad, I was happy to move on in my life.

I walked back toward campus with my camera, stopping by the construction site of the new School of Information, then on to the center of campus where the big graduation will occur on Saturday.  It’s pretty amazing what they have done to the place, completly covered more than an acre with plastic flooring and wall to wall chairs.  Then I wandered over to the cemetary on Observatory where I have some family buried, said “hi” to them, and moved on to the Arboretum.  It was a beautiful day for a walk through the woods.  The “mile of daffodils” is in bloom.  It’s a simple line of daffodils a mile long, zigzagging through the woods and open pastures of green grass.  People were playing frisbee and ball, and enjoying the sun.  It felt good to be enjoying the sun myself without papers, tests or work hanging over my head.

Down by the river I stopped at the stone with Mom and Dad’s poem.  I placed a small smooth black rock, shaped like an arrowhead on top of their stone and said “hi” to them.  I thought how Dad would like the small arrowhead stone.  I’ve only stopped by their rock a couple of times in these past two years and this time it didn’t hurt as much, which I suppose is a good thing.   I won’t be back there anytime soon, so I sat on a bench and watched the river flow by for awhile, and thought about my parents.  Then I climbed back up the hill heading back toward the hospital and a bus for the ride to the car.  At the top of the hill I happened to glance back toward the river, and realized I could see, directly across the valley, the house Dad grew up in.  I was looking straight at what was probably his bedroom window.  And I knew in that instance that he had certainly played in these hills, just as his kids played in the woods near our home.  It was a comforting feeling, and with a nod and a smile toward him I went and caught the bus.  Later in the evening I stopped by an open house in Ann Arbor for a friend, also graduating this weekend.  A bit of good food and good conversation and then I slipped away to come home. 

Tonight I am no longer a student, no longer an employee.  I’m just me.   And it feels pretty good. 

Tonight I spent a lot of time working up a job application. Maybe these will begin to take less time once I do a few more of them, but it reminded me of all the paperwork and coordination I had to manage when I was applying for grad school. Next week I won’t have to go to work OR to school, and I’ll have more time to consider where I should be looking for work, so I guess I should feel OK about getting one application done, and worry about doing more later.

I haven’t beaten the exhaustion yet. Today I got home from work ready to tackle cleaning up and organizing the school stuff. But I sat on the sofa and suddenly everything hurt, legs, arms, head, hands. So I took a nap. Wonderful things, naps. A reference librarian at work told me it took her a week after she graduated with her MLS to get back on her feet. I am still astounded at the physical toll going to school apparently has had on me!  It has similar effects to running a marathon, and a similar sense of satisfaction as well.

Graduation is Friday!

Friday afternoon after my last ever final I thought I’d get home and start working on all the stuff I’ve put off for two years, mostly cleaning and sorting, yardwork and shrub pruning.  But the oddest thing occured, I pulled into the driveway, walked in the house and felt overwhelmingly tired.  I couldn’t get myself to move off of the sofa and actually went to bed really early.  I’m surprised by this, I really thought I’d dive right into fun nonschool stuff, but the truth is I haven’t done anything but sleep and go to work.  I guess I’m waiting till the work ends to move on and start my new life!  But tonight, after a full weekend of work, I’m going to sleep!