Saturday, December 7, 2013
My first thought was that it's getting to be time for Christmas decorations and my second thought was that chasing down decorations sounded like a lot of work...and there's still plenty of time for that. So I set my phone camera to sepia and off we went, Cheyenne and I.
Elizabeth Street looking down the hill toward Truman Avenue.
I particularly appreciated the absurdity of this situation, classic Teutonic Yuletide decorations on the porch with the front door wide open to let in a cooling December night breeze.
The wall surrounding the land belonging yo the Minor basilica of St Mary's. No plans to sell this lot off to developers!
The church was declared a "minor basilica" by the Vatican and this title is bandied about like a temporal badge of distinction by the spiritually inspired church. I don't think Pope Francis' devotion to the poor gets much traction here where community leaders get on their knees and hobnob with God's representatives on earth, probably not about hiring standards and rates of pay. On Stock Island though the church operates a much needed soup kitchen and food bank that keep the working poor nourished and grateful enough not to demand living wages.
More urban loveliness:
It's the season of goodwill and this is my favorite house decoration, near the cemetery.
It's a reminder that everyone is supposed to be nice for a few weeks. That includes the old biddy who stopped as I was taking the picture and observed Cheyenne resting comfortably in the gutter and started to give me the third degree about torturing my dog. I felt like John Cleese and the Norwegian Blue...she's just resting I insisted to the gaunt Miss Marple eyeing me like I was a child molester. She's...heavy she said. So am I, I replied but she's an elderly Labrador and I have no excuse. Lucky for me it was the Christmas season else she'd probably have brained me and stolen my dog to save her from further abuse. Had she had half the brains of Cleese's parrot I'd have told her in no uncertain terms to go and save a dog from the pound and to bugger off and leave us alone. As it is even I am infected by the Christmas Spirit and I just walked off without further ado. Ho ho bloody ho.