That Bridge I Like So Much

It used to be the Reading Railroad Bridge, but now it is maintained by the CSX Corporation (freight trains) and is used by CSX, Amtrak, and SEPTA's West Trenton commuter line. It connects Yardley, PA, with Ewing, NJ. I pass it every day on the way to work, and it looks spectacular in early morning light. It looks attractive in twilight on the way home from work, too.

The problem is there are not any places to pull over to take a picture from the New Jersey side (Route 29) that I travel daily. There is a hiking path next to the river, but no access to it except from quite a bit north or south. I wouldn't be able to get a good shot without some hiking or biking.

The Pennsylvania side had to be explored. After the "Nemo" Nor'Easter dropped about four inches of snow on us, we traveled up Route 32, also known as the River Road, looking for a convenient pull-off from which to get a good shot. There were none, at least visible in the snow. We parked at a park,

hiked across the street, and carefully climbed down through the trees, vines, and brush to the riverbank.

Margie climbing; photo by Fred

This method won't be possible when there's normal traffic or once the brush fills in (I don't take traffic or poison-ivy risks), but I got some good shots today.

We walked up to the bridge and stood under it as if to make its acquaintance. I am fond of this bridge because it looks like an ancient Roman viaduct to me. It is 1445.5 feet long and has fourteen (14!) arches. The first and last arches go over Route 29 in New Jersey and Route 32 in Pennsylvania.

Beside my CSX Roman Viaduct Bridge are some masonry piers I wondered about. These, as it turns out, supported the older, 1875 wrought-iron Yardley Centennial Bridge.

Piers from the Yardley Centennial Bridge

This bridge, the West Trenton Railroad Bridge, the Reading Railroad bridge, was begun in 1911 and finished in 1913. Wait! My bridge is 100 years old this year! I'm glad I noticed it. I found out some other interesting facts about the bridge, but I'm saving those and my future shots for the eventual photo-essay.....

Margie shooting; photo by Fred.

 

This is what low tide looks like in winter

My favorite beach for walking, as my frequent readers probably know, is the Delaware Bay Beach in North Cape May, NJ. (I've been coming here all of my life and even before, I suspect!) Summer on this beach is great for sunning and relaxing, but fall, winter, and spring are for walking, making Gladys chase her special beach toy, and shooting pictures. A few weeks ago, Fred and Gladys and I managed to fit in a cold and windy beachwalk on the bay. As luck would have it, we wandered down at low tide. This means a wider beach for toy-chasing and more oddities washed up from the depths of the bay.

Fred and Gladys wait for me as I shoot photos from the street.

I mentioned it was a windy day. Gladys was wearing her new snowman kerchief, and experienced many wardrobe malfunctions.

The best birding is in spring and fall, when so many species fly by on their migrations north and south. Some live here with us and even hang out on the beach in winter. (By the way, if you are interested in birding in Cape May County and beyond, check out Don Freiday's blog: http://freidaybird.blogspot.com)

Some gulls stay for the winter.

A plump little sandpiper/plover/sanderling--I'm never quite sure which. They're all in Cape May.

This fall we New Jersey beach lovers (avian and human alike) experienced anxiety during the approach of Hurricane (or Superstorm) Sandy. Some of us received gut-wrenching bad news, but others of us were spared. A few days before it hit, all eyes were on Cape May as the storms were expected to converge there. As we all know now, Sandy brought her devastation ashore a little further north. Cape May was, for the most part, spared, but I suspect most from the Cape May region watched the news with horror as the images from Seaside and Staten Island, Brick and Brooklyn, appeared in the media: "Man, that could have been us."

Fred and Gladys head for the beach.

There were some issues at my favorite beach as a result of the enormous storm. For the first time I can remember, the trail from the street to the beach was purposely moved over a few feet. Bulldozers did this after the storm, and I suspect the move has something to do with the new storm drain visible in the first photo above. There was a dinky drain there before, but this gargantuan seems to mean business. But anyway, I'm still getting used to the new trail, as silly as that may seem.

There was some beach erosion , too. These cliffs have always been here, but used to be much smaller. I remember when I was younger my parents could drive along Beach Drive and see me and my dog Bambi from the car. That's nowhere near possible now as those cliffs are taller than I am.

The dune cliffs, post-Sandy

Nonetheless, the beauty of the beach in winter remains. I think this is a pretty cool close-up of one of the jetties. Low-tide allowed me to get in close to the moss-covered rocks. The green moss and the charcoal-colored rocks were the most exciting color palette of the morning, I think.

At high-tide sometimes, these rocks are completely covered. P.S. The green parts are very slippery.

I mentioned that weird things wash up on the bay. Here's an oyster-encrusted tire:

Those oysters will cling to anything.

It was cold and windy that day, the moist kind of wind that you find at the beach. This is the kind of wind that will cause actual pain to ungloved hands shooting photos or flying kites, for instance. Little Sheltie dogs chasing toys don't seem to be bothered by it.

 

Resolving (Happy New Year!)

The end of a calendar year is a time of self-reflection and goal-setting for many of us. Everyone talks about New Year’s resolutions—losing weight, exercising more, finding a new job—but who is still resolving in February? Real Simple magazine asked its readers to list their top-three things on their lifelong to-do list. The results, published in the July 2008 issue, included ideas like these: learn to can tomato sauce without Mom’s help, study German in Germany, and learn to juggle. This was inspirational for me--life is short! Pick something and do it! Since I love to learn, I decided to choose a topic or skill to explore as thoroughly as possible each year and probably beyond. This kind of focus on one new thing created deeper learning as I explored from various perspectives. My first area of study was writing itself.

Without intending it to be a resolution or goal, I took a winter writing course at the local community college. They called it “Turn Your Passion into Profit”. I had always wanted to set aside time for writing and this class got me going. I worked on my topics in class and out of class and tried to match up my finished articles with paying markets. I bought books on writing, took online courses and One-Day Intensives at the Gotham Writers’ Workshop in Manhattan. I attended every author talk I could and listened with envy as Carolyn See, Amy Tan, Mary Higgins Clark, Salman Rushdie, and David McCullough described their writer’s lives. (I envied Rushdie’s talent, wit, and success, but not so much his life.) It grew into something just short of obsession, but has stayed a part of my life. Isn’t this a better kind of resolution—incorporating a new skill or knowledge into my consciousness?

The second year of life-changing study was the year of re-learning French. I was planning a trip to Paris in the summer and wanted to be able to communicate, watch French TV, and even eavesdrop on French conversations. Self-guided book study and page-a-day calendars hadn’t worked in the past, so I signed up for eight-week classes taught by native speakers at the Alliance Française in Philadelphia. I endured a humbling placement test but settled into a class with a wonderful, patient teacher. My classmates were educated people who also enjoyed European travel. We practiced on Wednesday nights, but I needed more. I rented movies in French and even watched my favorite DVDs dubbed in French. I discovered a great film called “Paris, Je t’aime” in which five or six (half-dozen) directors tell stories set in Paris. One of these, to my delight, was about a middle-aged woman blowing her savings on a dream trip to Paris. It was narrated in her halting French mostly learned twenty years ago in college. Hmm. My own trip to France was a success, and I was even able to meet Marie Montet, a real Parisian, for dinner at a café.

Margie and Marie

 I first learned of Marie in a most unusual way. I had been getting some of her email by accident as we both had addresses that started with “mmontet”. An email from a former suitor of hers, Joel, was the first to land in my inbox by mistake. I carefully wrote back to him in French explaining that I wasn’t the “mmontet” he thought I was. We became unlikely pen pals once we discovered we were both really English speakers. I explained that my French wasn’t good enough for me to know exactly what I had read. He explained the mishap to Marie, referred to as Ma Princesse in that original missive. I got to meet Joel in New York a few years earlier, and finally now I would meet Marie in Paris. We dined at a lovely café in the Tuileries Garden adjacent to the Louvre just as the sun was setting. Marie, a lawyer, was the quintessential chic French woman: slim, naturally beautiful, and wittily intelligent.  We didn’t look alike, but shared something more than the brown hair and brown eyes from some long-ago French ancestors. Never abandoning my quest to improve my French language skills, I asked Marie to help me learn to pronounce chantilly (whipped cream) and grenouille (frog), words I find troublesome. My memories of that evening actually glow as if candle-lit.

Hamilton-Trenton Marsh

All the while I was continuing to write (and publish) but my accompanying photographs were decidedly amateur. I designated the next year The Year of the Photograph. I worked on my photography skills while assessing what features I needed in a more sophisticated camera besides the double-digit megapixels now standard. New books on digital photography were acquired. I subscribed to Popular Photography. I went on an early spring nature photography tour in the local marsh with David Simchock, a New Jersey photographer and photography teacher. We shot young unfurling ferns, swans on the lake, beaver dams, nascent water lilies, a rotting tree trunk with the face of an old man, and an unsuspecting fisherman from across the lake. “Margie, you’re going to have to stop shooting in auto mode so that you have more control.” “Be aware of your depth of field and blur the background to make the subject in focus pop.” He was very patient with me and helped me identify what features I needed for my purpose. 

As directed, I mentioned his name when I visited his recommended shop to finally purchase the handsome Nikon D80. “Oh we charge people more when they mention HIM,” said the young helpful guy behind the counter. “It’s because we have to deal with him.” I told David this when I went on his Center City Philadelphia photo tour with my new gear on a beastly hot day in July, and not till the end of the day did I add that they had thrown in a free memory card, too. David is a teaser, but I tease back.  I’m still learning the buttons and switches on the D80, but now I have three lenses to shoot with and my photos have indeed improved. My travel photos from a tour of Germany this year were so much better than photos I’d shot in the past, and I was even successful with some holiday night shots at Rockefeller Center.

Ospreys in their nest

“Off the starboard side of the Skimmer see the osprey stand: the female is in the nest—you can see her head—and the male is sitting next to it!” Captain Bob showed us many varieties of shorebirds that day on the Salt Marsh Safari, but he seemed most enthusiastic about these ospreys. We were gliding along the shallow marsh water on a flat-bottomed boat called a skimmer. Herring gulls, laughing gulls, terns and oystercatchers are residents of this marshy area between Cape May and Wildwood, New Jersey. “Over there! Look at that grassy part of the peat bog! That’s a snowy egret!” Click—I was most appreciative of the snowy egret sighting because it posed majestically for my camera: its sleek white feathers and yellow beak against the spring green grass.

Snowy Egret in the Salt Marsh

It was on this Salt Marsh Safari that I realized bird watching is not as mind-numbing as I thought it would be. As a writer now of all things Cape May, I knew I could no longer gloss over this most important feature of the region’s identity. The World Series of Birding happens here! I had to get out there, look at birds, photograph them, and learn how birders bird. To my surprise, I was completely captivated by the Salt Marsh Safari, start to finish. Birding, I declared, would be my Thing for 2009.

Over by the Cape May Point Lighthouse one late summer day when my camera was still new, I wandered over to the hawk watching platform where all the birders meet. I was shooting non-specifically at the lake in case anything interesting flew by. At this point in my birding career, most birds would have to wear a nametag for me to identify them. “Are you shooting the glossy ibis?” a birder called over to me.

“Uh no. Where exactly…?” He let me look through his rather gigantic scope attached to a sturdy tripod. Through the scope’s powerful lens I saw the most incredible and exotic black bird with a red sheen and yellow beak. The same bird had been invisible through my camera lens. “Oh yeah,” I thought, “I’m ready for this birding thing.”

The word ‘resolution’ doesn’t seem to fit my yearly endeavors anymore. I’m amused at how they’ve grown from the first intended dalliance with writing to what would more accurately be called adventures. These endeavors are dovetailing and overlapping and informing each other in a way I hadn’t imagined, creating a whole new side to my life. Although way out of my comfort zone then, I have had the most unique experiences meeting Joel and Marie, learning real photography with David, and starting to recognize the birds I see at the shore. More recently I've practiced Latin and crocheting, and attempted to read the works of Charles Dickens. Not every choice sticks, but  I don't think I'll ever tire of these pursuits. So what's on tap for 2013? I'm going to work on boosting my freelance stuff (writing, photographing, speaking, consulting), starting with a magazine query mega-blitz. I already got some great new business cards that promote all four branches of my favorite pursuits.

Christmas Eve in Cape May

It sure feels cold enough for snow. Alas, all we have here by the beach is cold rain. While yesterday's shopping excursion was festive and bright, this evening's twilight photo shoot was a bit on the dreary side. Just the same, the rain lent some shininess to the photos and a cool effect in the wreath shot above.

Most of the people had cleared out of town by the time we arrived, or at least were warm and dry inside a cozy seashore home or inn. The Washington Street Mall was all but deserted even though some lights were lit.

Good Scents with Fralinger's Salt Water Taffy on the other side

Lynn Arden's Children's Shop

There are some festive windows to delight the passer-by...

At Jackson Mountain Cafe...

and the Cape May Fish Market...

 But most of the action tonight seemed to be centered around two popular hotels. Santas were climbing all over the outside of the Virginia Hotel on Jackson Street. The renowned restaurant inside, The Ebbitt Room, was hosting a special Christmas Eve dinner tonight.

The Virginia Hotel

Across from the ocean, Congress Hall glowed beautifully as it played host to some culinary events inside. The fabulous tree sparkled for all walking past.

Congress Hall

Here's what I came for, though: the Gazebo tree at twilight! I shot a bunch, but this is my favorite. This is the site of countless band, barbershop quartet and even accordion orchestra concerts in summer. In winter, the Gazebo is home to the city's official tree. Isn't it gorgeous?

Scrutinizing the Brooklyn Bridge through Nikon Glass

For me, the point of this photo tour was to learn more about how my Nikon can take photographs in low-light. I have a pretty good sense of what buttons and dials to mess with for sunlit and bright interior shots, but those low-light experiences, both interior and exterior, have evaded me so far. That the tour took place in Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan, some geography I've been wanting to explore, was a bonus.

That's Dave checking out a student's gear.

The deal-maker was that the tour was offered by a friend who I know is a really good photographer and teacher. Dave Simchock has an interesting story. He's originally from the Central New Jersey area, worked as an engineer in New York City and London, and then put that career aside to explore a life filled with travel and photography. In a relatively short period of time he grew a thriving career as a photographer and teacher in the Central New Jersey area. Unfortunately for me, he moved to Asheville, North Carolina, a couple of years ago. Fortunately for me, he offers photo tours in the Northeast a couple times a year, and, I overheard him this weekend talking about plans to move some of his courses online! Check out Dave's breathtaking photographs at his website, http://www.vagabondvistas.com/.

Now, back to Brooklyn. We started in the morning and took advantage of the morning light on the Brooklyn Bridge and the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan. Dave gave us some tips on shooting the bridge and skyscrapers, and some ideas for creating collections of photos based on colors, shapes, and themes. There was a lot to think about. I was thrilled to finally be on the Brooklyn Bridge, partly because of the David McCullough book

Watch David McCullough talks about the Brooklyn Bridge on PBS. See more from Brooklyn Bridge.

and partly because the designers of the bridge, the Roeblings, were from Trenton, New Jersey. This bridge was the longest suspension bridge in the world when it was completed in 1883. It is a fascinating story, so if you're at all interested get your hands on David McCullough's The Great Bridge.   

It's easy to get some cool photos from the bridge in daylight: the famous bridge towers, the cables, the skyscrapers, the ships in the water, the other bridges, and the people on the bridge.

People watching on the Bridge

After some shooting in Lower Manhattan including a lesson in low-light interiors in a church, Dave brought us back to the Brooklyn side to pick up our tripods and head to Brooklyn Bridge Park for the highlight of the tour. This is what I was waiting for: the twilight Brooklyn Bridge shoot. Dave worked with each of us, but most importantly showed ME exactly which dials and buttons to manipulate on the Nikon to get the best shots of the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges. (ISO up to about 800, set the timer to two seconds, VR off, NR on, and TRIPOD) I'm thrilled with my photographs, and yes, I wrote down all those settings!  

Check these out (I took them!):

The Brooklyn Bridge at night

The Manhattan Bridge at twilight

 I even put together some shots from the day in a little movie:

That Other Thanksgiving Tradition: Football!

Now please understand that I really don't care for football all that much. There were those four years in high school and three years in college that I attended every single home game, and many, many away games. This was not because of a love of the game, but because I was in the marching band. I played clarinet, then saxophone, and then clarinet again, and during those years learned some very important life lessons which I'll tell you about later. First some pics...

The Steinert Spartan pressbox

The Hamilton Hornet

We arrived early enough to score seats between the 50- and 45-yard lines and relatively high up so that we could get a good look at the bands. The Thanksgiving Day football game is an important tradition. The rivalry between Hamilton High West (near where I live now) and Hamilton High East (more commonly known as Steinert) goes back into the 1960s when there were only two high schools in the township. A third high school, Nottingham, or North, was refashioned from a middle school in the mid-eighties. (Just to confuse things, this building had originally been a high school, called Steinert.) Nottingham does not get involved with the Hamilton-Steinert Thanksgiving rivalry. I kind of feel bad for them. The rivalry is fun even though Hamilton usually beats Steinert. Steinert's band is usually better (and I'm not just saying that because I went there). I will give Hamilton the prize for best mascot because Steinert doesn't have one and because their Hornet is cute.

Hamilton's band performed a pre-game show based on Gypsy melodies including some themes form the opera Carmen. The band directors from my era worked this out so that both bands would have ample time to perform: the visiting band would do the pre-game and the home band gets the halftime show. Here's the Hamilton band performing in front of some of their Gypsy scenery.

Hamilton's percussionists get to wear Gypsy costumes.

Then there was football. The crowd was enthusiastic when Steinert scored first, and Hamilton then scored more. The ball was kicked and passed, guys ran this way and that, and frequently collided. No, I don't know much about this game, but I understand that there are a certain amount of attempts allowed each team to get the ball past the goal. When this happens, the refs throw both arms in the air and the crowd goes wild. I'm not going to describe the game any further since there are few folks alive, at least in the United States, who understand or appreciate this game less than me. Fred, the person I dragged to this sporting contest with me today, is one of those people. He may understand it more, but he probably appreciates it less. I am glad he went with me today, and I think he did enjoy the bands. OH! There's another band to talk about!




Steinert's band took the field at halftime, and to my delight performed a tribute to big bands...as in Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman and the like. There is no kind of music I like more on the football field than some good swing music. Steinert didn't disappoint, and even selected my favorite Benny Goodman, "Sing, Sing, Sing." The ladies of the band front displayed some Jitterbug dancing, and the whole show was over too soon.

Here they come!

SHS in action!

 So I promised you those lessons I learned in marching band that actually translate to real life.

1. See those clarinet players over there? Well, I started on clarinet and switched to tenor saxophone for some of high school. Clarinet was always my best instrument, though, and it was my main instrument as a Music major in college. But, I was never, ever the best clarinet player. That's not me being humble, that's me being truthful. From my very first lesson in fifth grade all the way through high school, I was in the shadow of a gifted classmate. That's just the way it was and I got used to it. It didn't spoil my enthusiasm for band and music in general. I took my mom's advice and just worried about Margie, and I had a great time. (I actually remind myself, "You just worry about Margie!" quite a lot.)

2. I was pretty good at clarinet and tenor saxophone, and I loved playing in all the bands. I never made Regional Band, though, but that other girl did! I auditioned in junior and senior year, and I even enjoyed that experience. Here's  the thing, though: it doesn't matter how well you've prepared your audition piece, it matters who else is at the audition! (Or, who else applied for the job.)

3. See those drum majors over there? I never was drum major. I could have auditioned, but I didn't want to, even when my beloved band director encouraged me. See, I knew back then that I would not enjoy having all those eyes on me in that white outfit as much as I would enjoy marching around the field with my saxophone and my buddies in a green and black band uniform. I did not perceive the drum major position as the culmination of my high school music career. (This translates to the working world, too.)

Ahhh, marching band. I wonder if I would have liked it as much if I had realized it was teaching me life lessons! 

No, we didn't "Swat those Hornets" today. We lost 16-10.

 

My Funniest Thanksgiving Story Ever

Last weekend, the weekend before Thanksgiving, I went to the grocery store to gather some ingredients for beef barley soup. I like soup. The check-out guy told me I earned a free turkey for spending $300 on groceries since whatever date. I didn't think much of it until I told Fred, and he said, "How did you earn a turkey? You hardly ever shop." 

not me

I thought about it and he is right--he does most of the general shopping and I buy stuff for specific meals, half the time at the other store near work. 



That card I have is old and must be linked to...the ex-husband's card! People tell me I think too much about stuff, but can you imagine if I had redeemed the offer for the free turkey (or turkey breast, frozen lasagna, or canned ham) and then he was denied when he went to get his free bird?!



I laughed over this, Fred laughed over this, and people at work laughed (and encouraged me to do it!!) I would never actually take the turkey he (mostly) earned, but I momentarily entertained the idea of holding his frozen free turkey ransom until he returned that other half of the wedding china that walked away as part of the divorce settlement. (They're only things...I'll replace them someday.) It wouldn't have worked, of course--he'd just buy a different turkey.

not my turkey

I could have gotten locked up for serving a fraudulent bird, but luckily I realized that this whole thing happened because I was too lazy to go sign up for a new card after the divorce a decade ago. I'm going to sign up for a shiny new card in my own name this weekend!

But wait, that's not where the story ends. I shared the story with another divorcee I know via Facebook. I was expecting her to like the story and maybe send me a smiley face in return. Instead, I was rewarded with her better story. Years ago, she went to redeem the free Thanksgiving turkey she earned at the same supermarket and was told that her free bird had already been redeemed. By her ex. He had even changed the address on her card to his new address. The store gave her a free turkey anyway and sent her shiny new cards in the mail. Way to go Shop Rite! Anyway, even though she got her shiny new Shop Rite cards, she kept the old one...and...before the next Thanksgiving...she may or may not have redeemed his free turkey...

Too funny.