Photo Favorite: Monument Hill

Detail of Monument Hill State Park monument overlooking the tomb of the men who died in the Dawson Massacre and the Black Bean Episode. Copyright 2010 Mark C. Osborne, III. All rights reserved.

All Experiences Shouldn't Be Virtual

Recently, longtime Houston Chronicle columnist Leon Hale wrote about his fascination with some caterpillars that he had trapped in order to see them turn into either butterflies or moths. When his partner caught him trapping the caterpillars and asked him why he was doing it, he replied:

"I wanted to see what the caterpillars would become, especially that red and black one. She said I didn't need to imprison those poor worms to learn that. I could just Google up caterpillars on the Internet and see nice pictures of the larval stages of moths and butterflies.Yeah, but I wanted to watch the process again, as I did when I was 10 years old. I'm getting tired of looking on the Internet for the answer to every question that crosses my head. I get the nervous feeling that we're headed down the Digital Information Road to a point where we won't have Experience, we'll just look it up."

There are a growing number of people, myself included, who also worry that we all - kids and adults - are losing 'Experience' with not only nature but with historical artifacts, art, live music and live theatre. Sure, Google and Wikipedia are great for school reports and quick reference, but there is no experience like walking the halls of an historic home or carding wool at a living history museum or visiting any of the other hundreds of other historic sites, parks, theatres and museums of America. The legacy of Experience is one in which we should all take part.

What do you think?

Photo: Plebeian sphinx caterpillar, (Paratrea plebeja), Jesse H. Jones Park & Nature Center, Humble, Texas 0510100840 by accent on eclectic, 2010.

Photo Favorite: St. Louis Union Station

Grand Hall Lounge, St. Louis Union Station. Copyright 2010 Mark C. Osborne, III. All rights reserved.

On the Road: Brunson Movie Theater

I have a soft spot for old movie houses. You know the kind. They usually sit on the main street of small towns. Their marquees fading and letters dangling. Occasionally, some are given new life as churches, antique malls or community theatres. Even more rare are the theaters that are still functioning and showing first-run features. Two of these latter theaters come to mind - the Select in Mineola, Texas and the River Oaks in Houston. (I would have liked to have added the 7th Street in Fort Worth, but, unfortunately, it was torn down a couple of years ago. It was the last remaining, single screen theater in Fort Worth.)

During their heyday, these theaters ranked just behind churches, schools, lodges and the general store as places where the community could gather, learn about the world through newsreels, fall in love with movie stars like Clark Gable and Betty Grable, and, perhaps in some small way, see themselves reflected back from the big screen. Being on one of the main streets, moviegoers could usually walk to the theater, stopping to say hello to neighbors or buying an ice cream to enjoy on the way home.* On a recent outing, I came across one of these old theaters - the Brunson - in Baytown, Texas. It was built in 1949 and on its facade are six bas reliefs that reflect what, at that time, the town was all about - oil, chemistry, engineering, medicine, fishing and shipping (my interpretations). In its day, it must have been a great place, but now sits boarded up and gutted with an uncertain future.

Perhaps it's just nostalgia, but I believe that more people today would appreciate having a local movie theater within walking distance again. What do you think?

*This is not a firsthand account. But I've heard tell of such things.

Photo: The Brunson. Copyright 2010 Mark C. Osborne, III. All rights reserved.

The Art of Getting Lost

“So you see, imagination needs moodling - long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering.” - Brenda Ueland

Last week, I decided it was time for a day trip. I had spent most of the prior two weeks inside either reading, working at my computer, or completing some late spring cleaning. While getting dressed, I decided to drive to the San Jacinto Monument just outside of Houston. I hadn’t been there since my parents took our family many years ago. I knew it was on the east side of Houston near Galveston Bay, but didn’t know the exact roads to get to it. So, I quickly look at my road atlas and took mental notes on the route. Well, I got close and then, got lost – I took a right when I should have taken a left. No problem. I found myself at a dead end road, so I made a U-turn, pulled into the first gas station I could find and got the road atlas out again. I found that I could either go back to the main highway and take the correct turn or take a series of local roads – the first of which was just up from where I was parked – that would put me out at just west of the monument park. Being the adventurous type, I chose the local roads. (Even though I have a 2010 road atlas, many of the roads weren’t accurate. Another fun twist!) There wasn’t much to see except some very up close views of the many oil refineries that can be found around the bay and Houston Ship Channel. Actually, it was very fascinating. I grew up in South Houston and Pasadena (or, for the locals, “Stink-a-dena”) and my father had worked for a refinery at one time, but I had never seen one that close. It would be great to take a tour of one, sometime.

Anyway, I made it to the monument and also paid a visit to Battleship Texas. Very enjoyable day. Now, it was time to head home…or so I thought. Being summer, there was still plenty of daylight, so I decided to drive to Baytown – again, just curious. I won’t spend too much time on the details, but, in the end, after another side trip to the town of Anahuac, some more wrong turns, a few correct turns and a ferry ride, I found myself in Galveston at the end of the day. I’ll save that story for another time.

This little adventure should tell you a little about me. First, I don’t mind getting lost (and sometimes do it on purpose!) and second, my curiosity sometimes gets the better of me. But that’s OK. I think in our rush-a-day world, we ask for too many assurances and accept the same old, tried-and-true routes that get us through the day. For many, the thought of having only a tentative destination in mind, taking roads not found on the map, and getting lost is very scary. So often when back at work on a Monday after a weekend road trip, I would answer the inevitable question, “So, how was your weekend?” with tales of aimless wandering. My co-workers would often look at me with puzzled faces and say, “But didn’t you know where you were going?” “Were you visiting family?” “What’s in that place?” To which I would reply, “No. No. And quite a lot, if you look.” Again, blank, puzzled looks. I might as well have told them I flew to the moon and back.

In the future, you’ll hear me talk a lot about curiosity, but, for now, here are a few suggestions for practicing the art of getting lost:

Develop a healthy curiosity.* There is so much to see whether near your home, in another state or in another country. Just because someone has been there before you shouldn’t diminish the adventure and thrill of discovering it yourself. If you need to start out small, that’s OK. Take a walk down your street. Take a different route to work. Shop at a different grocery store. Then, try it for a day. Take a road trip out one of the interstates or state highways and take off on the road marked ‘Business’. These are usually the routes that take you into the old (and sometimes historic) business districts of small towns. Here again, don’t stay on the main street. Turn and drive through the older neighborhoods. You’ll probably find historic homes, parks and unique shops that would otherwise go undiscovered.

*I have to say that being curious does not mean being reckless or unsafe. Even in small towns, some neighborhoods can be a little dangerous. And you want to make sure you have enough gas and a well-maintained car, lessening the risk of being put in a compromising or unsafe position. Use your best judgment at all times.

Put down the map. Turn off the GPS. You can, and most of the time, should check your map before you start out and have it and/or your GPS handy in case you get really turned around. But, for the most part, when you “get lost,” you’re not really that lost. Most likely, you’re still in the same state or at least the U.S., so with a quick map or GPS reference, you can always find your way back to a main road.

Learn to find your way. Some might call this orienteering, but I’m thinking of skills much more fundamental. Too often, I hear people say they can’t determine the cardinal points – north, south, east and west – from their present location. (It’s usually women who say this. I’m not sure if there is any scientific proof of that women are less capable of orienting themselves.) There are two fairly easy ways to find your way in relation to the cardinal points. First, orient yourself to a major interstate or highway. Most of them generally run in either a north-south or east-west route. If you were driving on, say, Interstate 10 (an east-west route), exited and turned right, you would be heading south. And until you re-enter the interstate in one direction or the other or cross it, you will always be generally south of it. The second way is truly ancient – locate the position of the sun. Granted this is much easier to do in early morning or late afternoon than during mid-day, but it can be done. Let’s say it’s about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. You’re driving and the sun is coming in mostly through the driver’s side window. You can know that you’re driving generally north. Failing these techniques, buy a small compass and keep it in your car. (A compass can also keep kids occupied for a time.)

Relax and enjoy the ride. Unless you have reservations for dinner or people are expecting you to arrive at a certain time, ignore the clock, let go and enjoy the ride. Again, this can be scary for some, but I guarantee that if you’ll try it, you’ll be hooked.

What do you think? Have you turned getting lost into an art form? Does this all seem a little too scary?