About 35 summers ago, my wife "house sat" at a huge mansion in Newport,
Rhode Island. The house was so big that 90% of it was shut off with
furniture covered with sheets, rooms closed, etc. A summer "cottage"
belonging to some rich family that was happy to have a middleaged lady,
her daughter and the daughter's best friend (my wife) "watch" the house
in exchange for free lodgings. The empty Newport cigarette pack has me
thinking about the many great divides we find as we pass through life.
Haves; have nots. Pasts; presents. Etc. This image shot of a stoop on
East 77th or 78th Street in NYC. The best friend and her mom are both
passed on now. Like so many empty cigarette packs (which both of them
enjoyed emptying as they hastened their demise).
For your listening pleasure, I'm typing these words accompanied by a classic performance by Sun Ra of "Discpline 27."
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