Escapes

 

One hundred years ago today, Harry Houdini died. Of course, being only in, ahem, midlife, I never saw his escapes or other tricks. When I was growing up, however, some of the adults in my life could recall seeing his performances. They even said someone “pulled a Houdini” when someone wiggled their way out of an awkward situation.

If it isn’t ironic or fitting (depending on your point of view) enough that he died on Halloween, I couldn’t help but to notice, as I rode today, how many people—kids and adults alike—were wearing “prisoner” costumes: horizontally striped pullover tops with an inmate number on the chest and pants in matching stripes. I don’t think any correctional institution, at least here in the US, still outfits their inmates that way.  But it still seems to be a staple in movies, cartoons and TV—and in the Monopoly game.

I can understand the appeal of Houdini’s performances: Many people feel there is “no escape” from one thing or another: school, their families, their jobs or life in general, at least as they know it.

On one hand, bicycling has always been an escape. On the other, it’s allowed me to enter spaces, whether physical, mental or spiritual, I couldn’t have accessed otherwise.

The Beaches At Midlife

 Another ride to Point Lookout today. Beach season has long passed. But, owing to the gorgeous sun-filled skies and mild temperatures, I saw people, not only cycling, strolling and scootering (Is that a real word?) along the Rockaway and Long Beach boardwalks and a few on the sand in those places and the Point. The only folks who actually went into the waves  were a couple of surfers at Rockaway Beach. I heard one of them remark that the water wasn’t very cold, but not for swimming. That sounds about right: Water temperatures ranged from 16 to 18C (60 to 64F)— more or less the same as the second or third week of June. The most precipitous drop comes after (US) Thanksgiving.

One thing I noticed: The people I saw today were, mostly, not young. In fact, the youngest people I saw at Point Lookout were a man and woman, apparently husband and wife, with another man who seemed to be brother of the woman, all of them helping a man—their grandfather, I’d guess—with a walker. The man, I am sure, was happy to get out of the house, especially since today brought us some of the best weather (at least for folks like him) we’re likely to have.

You might say that the beaches were in a kind of midlife between their peak season fever dreams and a long winter’s sleep.

While the Colors Gently Weep (Apologies To George Harrison)

“It is always the darkest before the day dawneth.” So wrote theologian Thomas Fuller in his 1650 travelogue A Pigsah Sight of Palestine and the Confines Thereof.

Now, nearly four centuries later, I—who am definitely not a theologian—am here to tell you that autumn light is brightest, and its colors most vivid, right before the longest nights descend upon us. At least, that’s what I’ve seen while cycling during the past few days has led me to believe.

Could it be that yellow is weeping before it’s forced to turn brown and its fire turns it to ash?