i work downtown. or to be more accurate, on the edge of a small downtown. it’s one of those rust-belt downtowns, long past it’s hey-day and showing signs of age, but with a dedicated core of citizens determined to polish the city core until its past brilliance again shows through. recent renovations co-mingle with abandoned properties seemingly condemned by neglect while once shining gems struggle to re-emerge. it is also a place of one-way streets and parallel parking and–of course–the ubiquitous orange barrel as street crews attempt to assign a certain charm to the area through streetscape projects and old-fashioned traffic lights.
driving can be…tricky. with these thoughts in mind, i chose to walk a few blocks today. i had several sets of drawings to deliver to a local (downtown) church which has no parking of its own (an ill-conceived decision from the era when people still knew how to walk places) and, given the weather and traffic conditions, it was a perfect time to walk the drawings down. which gave me opportunity to ponder the sadness of the world we live in—when i arrived at the church i had to be buzzed in. no open doors, but a lock and an intercom. this is our world, where churches, who make it their mission to serve all, are forced to lock their doors against dangerous or destroying intruders. i understand the reasoning; some years ago a gentleman from the downtown church i attend was mugged in the sanctuary after a christmas eve service. and after all, we lock our office doors against those who would wander in, seeking services an architecture firm does not provide. but it is just so sad, that the churches cannot be open, that people cannot be trusted. i hate it.
I also have a pair of socks finished(!), but the sun is not cooperating, so pictures shall have to wait…