Yesterday was Tax Day in the US. Except for those who are getting big refunds, nobody was happy.
Some of us look for good news on the day. Alas, not much was to be found. Two items made the woes of owing (and, yes, I was one of the people who owed--thank you, Donald!) trivial in comparison.
One of those stories is happening here in the US. "Retrogrouch" confirmed rumors that I'd heard for some time: Rebecca Twigg, one of the greatest American female cyclists--actually, one of the greatest American cyclists--is homeless. She doesn't even have a bicycle anymore.
Of course, it's tragic for anyone to live on the streets, with only ragged blankets, large garbage bags and, if he or she is lucky, a refrigerator box, to protect him or her from cold, wind and rain, along with the dirt and other hazards imposed by other humans. And Rebecca is not the first elite athlete or other celebrity to end up with nothing of her own and nowhere home. But her story is especially disturbing because, if you were around during the '80's and '90's, you recall her as someone who "had everything going for her". Her Olympic medals and other victories brought her endorsement contracts; her looks generated modeling gigs and her intelligence (and hard work) got her into college at age 14.
From the moment she got on a bike as a toddler, she says, she knew she was "born to" ride. And she exercised that birthright, if you will, to its fullest: She was as fiercely competitive as she is talented. Most of us envy people who find their "calling", if you will, before they can even call it that: the painter who knew he would be creating his life on canvas at age 5; the teacher who knew she'd spend her life in the classroom when she was even younger than the kids she's teaching now; the doctor whose vocation was revealed to him not long after he learned how to read.
I have known that painter and doctor, both of whom are gone now, and the teacher is a friend who just happens to be granddaughter of my friend Mildred. Having such a clear vision of their lives at such an early age helped all of them: They knew what they needed to do and focused on it.
One difference between them and Rebecca, though, is that they found themselves in professions they could practice for their entire working lives (or, in the case of the painter, his entire life). None of them (except for the teacher, if she decides to change careers) will ever have to experience something Rebecca, and many other professional athletes, had to endure: a transition from a life of days structured around sport to the daily routines of a "normal" job or career.
In Rebecca's case, that career was in Information Technology. She studied it (Computer Science) at Colman College after earning a bachelor's degree in Biology at the University of Washington. There are people who love that kind of work; others, like Stuart--the Australian fellow with whom I rode in Cambodia--hated it. I don't know whether Rebecca disliked the work per se or whether she simply couldn't abide being in an office and at a desk. In any case, in spite of her talent and hard work, she seemed to have difficulty in holding down jobs. Or, perhaps, her trouble came because of her talent and hard work: She may have simply felt that there was no "victory" at the end of it.
The prospect of not "winning" may also be a reason why she finds it so difficult to accept help. Perhaps doing so would be an admission of defeat for her. Also, bicycle racers tend to be rather solitary figures, and even in that world, racers like Rebecca are rather like monks: Her best event, after all, was the 3000 meter individual pursuit race.
Anyway, I hope her story turns into something better. I hope the same for la Cathedrale de Notre Dame in Paris. At least the people in charge of it are already getting, and accepting help in rebuilding after the awful fire it incurred yesterday.
My friend Michele and I exchanged e-mails about the news. Les francaises sont tres choques--The French are very shocked, she wrote. To which I replied: Tout le monde est choque. La cathedrale est un tresor du monde--The whole world is shocked. The cathedral is a treasure of the world.
I mean, what building besides the Eiffel Tower and, perhaps, the Sacre Coeur de Montmartre, is more embematic of the City of Light? I still recall, during my second day in Paris (more years ago than I'll admit), sitting in the square by the Notre Dame and listening to the bell on a warm June day. I felt like I'd become, at that moment, part of a city that has become so much a part of me: New York is the only city I know better.
At least it seems that more of the cathedral can be saved than officials originally thought. President Macron has vowed to rebuild it, and wealthy magnates as well as more anonymous citizens are already donating money. However the work is done, the real restoration will not be on the structures themselves: Rather, it will be a healing of the minds and spirits that have been so moved by its grandeur, the light coruscating through its stained-glass windows or the views from its towers--or simply by images of those towers, windows and the spire.
Sir Kenneth Clark, often called the high priest of Art History, once said that he could not define "civilization" in abstract terms. But, as he turned to the Notre Dame in his famous "Civilization" series, he declared, "I know I'm looking at it."
For me, a non-religious person, that's reason enough to care about the Notre Dame. Taxes are just a pimple on the face of my life, which is part of the multitude which, I hope, have helped to contribute in whatever small ways to civilization or "the human project" or whatever you want to call it.
Some of us look for good news on the day. Alas, not much was to be found. Two items made the woes of owing (and, yes, I was one of the people who owed--thank you, Donald!) trivial in comparison.
One of those stories is happening here in the US. "Retrogrouch" confirmed rumors that I'd heard for some time: Rebecca Twigg, one of the greatest American female cyclists--actually, one of the greatest American cyclists--is homeless. She doesn't even have a bicycle anymore.
Of course, it's tragic for anyone to live on the streets, with only ragged blankets, large garbage bags and, if he or she is lucky, a refrigerator box, to protect him or her from cold, wind and rain, along with the dirt and other hazards imposed by other humans. And Rebecca is not the first elite athlete or other celebrity to end up with nothing of her own and nowhere home. But her story is especially disturbing because, if you were around during the '80's and '90's, you recall her as someone who "had everything going for her". Her Olympic medals and other victories brought her endorsement contracts; her looks generated modeling gigs and her intelligence (and hard work) got her into college at age 14.
From the moment she got on a bike as a toddler, she says, she knew she was "born to" ride. And she exercised that birthright, if you will, to its fullest: She was as fiercely competitive as she is talented. Most of us envy people who find their "calling", if you will, before they can even call it that: the painter who knew he would be creating his life on canvas at age 5; the teacher who knew she'd spend her life in the classroom when she was even younger than the kids she's teaching now; the doctor whose vocation was revealed to him not long after he learned how to read.
I have known that painter and doctor, both of whom are gone now, and the teacher is a friend who just happens to be granddaughter of my friend Mildred. Having such a clear vision of their lives at such an early age helped all of them: They knew what they needed to do and focused on it.
One difference between them and Rebecca, though, is that they found themselves in professions they could practice for their entire working lives (or, in the case of the painter, his entire life). None of them (except for the teacher, if she decides to change careers) will ever have to experience something Rebecca, and many other professional athletes, had to endure: a transition from a life of days structured around sport to the daily routines of a "normal" job or career.
In Rebecca's case, that career was in Information Technology. She studied it (Computer Science) at Colman College after earning a bachelor's degree in Biology at the University of Washington. There are people who love that kind of work; others, like Stuart--the Australian fellow with whom I rode in Cambodia--hated it. I don't know whether Rebecca disliked the work per se or whether she simply couldn't abide being in an office and at a desk. In any case, in spite of her talent and hard work, she seemed to have difficulty in holding down jobs. Or, perhaps, her trouble came because of her talent and hard work: She may have simply felt that there was no "victory" at the end of it.
The prospect of not "winning" may also be a reason why she finds it so difficult to accept help. Perhaps doing so would be an admission of defeat for her. Also, bicycle racers tend to be rather solitary figures, and even in that world, racers like Rebecca are rather like monks: Her best event, after all, was the 3000 meter individual pursuit race.
Anyway, I hope her story turns into something better. I hope the same for la Cathedrale de Notre Dame in Paris. At least the people in charge of it are already getting, and accepting help in rebuilding after the awful fire it incurred yesterday.
My friend Michele and I exchanged e-mails about the news. Les francaises sont tres choques--The French are very shocked, she wrote. To which I replied: Tout le monde est choque. La cathedrale est un tresor du monde--The whole world is shocked. The cathedral is a treasure of the world.
I mean, what building besides the Eiffel Tower and, perhaps, the Sacre Coeur de Montmartre, is more embematic of the City of Light? I still recall, during my second day in Paris (more years ago than I'll admit), sitting in the square by the Notre Dame and listening to the bell on a warm June day. I felt like I'd become, at that moment, part of a city that has become so much a part of me: New York is the only city I know better.
At least it seems that more of the cathedral can be saved than officials originally thought. President Macron has vowed to rebuild it, and wealthy magnates as well as more anonymous citizens are already donating money. However the work is done, the real restoration will not be on the structures themselves: Rather, it will be a healing of the minds and spirits that have been so moved by its grandeur, the light coruscating through its stained-glass windows or the views from its towers--or simply by images of those towers, windows and the spire.
Sir Kenneth Clark, often called the high priest of Art History, once said that he could not define "civilization" in abstract terms. But, as he turned to the Notre Dame in his famous "Civilization" series, he declared, "I know I'm looking at it."
For me, a non-religious person, that's reason enough to care about the Notre Dame. Taxes are just a pimple on the face of my life, which is part of the multitude which, I hope, have helped to contribute in whatever small ways to civilization or "the human project" or whatever you want to call it.
A day of bad news indeed. Not sure which story haunts me more: Notre Dame's fire or Rebecca's homelessness. Both break my heart.
ReplyDeletei have never been to Paris, but i mourn the loss. i have read that the rose window survived the conflagration- that's some consolation.
As for Rebecca- i saw her silver medal ride at the World's in Colorado in '86. i hope she can allow herself to be helped.
There is a post today by Patrick O'Grady's blog (https://maddogmedia.com/) with info important for anyone who may want to help Rebecca and the homeless in general.
My last memory of Notre Dame was during an impromptu nighttime tour round the old city with someone who had lived there during their childhood. We stood in front of the illuminated building festooned with fans of tricolours because of a visit by the president the following day, soldiers stood to attention with machine guns guarding the building.
ReplyDeleteThese buildings impress now, they must have been awe-inspiring when few other buildings exceeded one story. Our contemporary glass boxes celebrating thieving capitalism pale in comparison.
Lucky that they did not water bomb the flames...
Mike and Coline--I'm still sad about Rebecca and the Notre Dame. At least there's hope that my memories of the Cathedral won't be just that, even if the structure might be a bit different the next time I see it. Whatever they do to it, it'll still be more magnificient, I'm sure, than just about anything built recently.
ReplyDeleteAs for Rebecca--I hope, event though there may not be as much reason to hope.
Terrible about Rebecca Twigg. I had heard that she became a doctor. I guess the rumour mill really missed on that one.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of rumours I heard that about 250 tons of lead sheathing from the roof melted and flowed to the bottom of the church, which will certainly complicate the clean up. I wish them much success. The place really is a world treasure.
Phillip--I heard that rumor, too. It wasn't hard to believe, given who she was. And the other good things I heard about her seemed plausible: I met her very briefly at the NYC Cycle Show, back when it was held at the Coliseum in Columbus Circle. She was as beautiful, and seemed as intelligent, as I'd heard she was. And she even seemed nice.
ReplyDeleteI hope the Notre Dame cleanup works out well, too. I think, though, President Macron is engaging in wishful thinking when he says it will be open in five years: when Paris hosts the Olympics again.