Daring to a Point

So it's my mom's birthday (happy birthday again, Mom - I hope you get to learn flipcup) . . . and I meant to post this earlier anyway, so here we go:

I'm kind of cautious, and when I was growing up I was really shy. However, I don't have a huge problem with bridges (except when the Innerbelt Bridge in Cleveland looks like it's ready to go any day - then, it's not worth crossing town - even though that's where the airport is). Neither of these things is true about anyone on my mother's side of the family (and the extended friends who are close enough that they might as well be) when it comes to a couple of things.

One of them is architectural tourism. Mixed with trespassing.

I don't know how many times my mom has said "well, it's open, let's go see. Come onn Sarah. Don't you want to see what it looks like from that angle?" - this usually involves already public-ish buildings designed by Frank Lloyd Wright (though we've never been to Oak Park, where most of the houses are still lived in) maybe mixed with some loitering on the outside of Louis Sullivan banks and buildings designed by her uncle the architect.

It's a pretty midwestern nonconfrontational kind of trespassing - really, it's just lurking - and if we ever get caught, maybe some good-natured questioning about ephemera like, say, "when the building is actually open and how long has this wing been private? Do you know what kind of tree that is? Or when that sculpture was built? How do you like your job? Do you have a lot of trouble-makers?" Or maybe some (and this is what I generally use, though I understand the appeal of the other one - which can turn a scolding into a friendly chat) - "Oh, so sorry, didn't know will be going now" style diffusion. So, when I was told not to take pictures immediately after this one, I did as told. Even though the French tourists at the top of the dome were blatantly photographing each other IN FRONT of the sign with the camera x'd out, I resisted the urge to join. And I think that's a pretty good metaphor for a lot of my upbringing - push a little, but once you've explicitly been forbidden, back off. Until next time the Unitarian Meeting House door is ajar.