Chimney Bluffs

Chimney Bluffs are on the southern shore of Lake Ontario. They are closest to the town of Sodus, near Sodus Bay. I’ve been visiting the bluffs for about three years now. One of my first expeditions after I moved to Rochester was to the Chimney Bluffs. They are a sight to behold: towering, fragile-looking, spires of a pinkish-brown soil.

They form from erosion. In particular, the erosion of drumlins, which are the upside-down-spoon-shaped hills that populate a lot of Western NY. Drumlins formed when receding glaciers scooped, grinded, and deposited large amounts of rocks and dirt. Over time, the drumlins along Lake Ontario have eroded creating what we see today. But even today the bluffs continue to change. In the three years I’ve been here, many of the trials have eroded away, crumbled and tumbled down a hundred feet or so. Many trees on the edge of the bluffs have fallen and now lay on the beach with their upper-half submerged in Lake Ontario. But fear not, others have blazed new trails and bypasses. I like to stick with the older trails for as long as I can. They tend to be the most wild, both with overgrowth and excitement; straddling the narrowly worn trail on the edge of a long drop really gets the blood pumping.

Nature abounds at the Chimney Bluffs. From the top of the bluffs, you can get an up-close view of cliff swallows in their tunneled nests. On the trails I encountered several snakes sun bathing, bugs mating, and I startled a turkey vulture from its noon-time siesta. Along the shore, the water was so clear you could see fish swimming about. Two humans were kayaking on the quiet waters. A few water beatles provided a bit of entertainment with their circular dynamics on the surface of the water.

My Tour of Duty in Hell

A break from the blood-letting in Hell. Everyone gets the day off on Halloween.

Summer-like weather, what happened to my cool 70’s? A little known fact; when my twin sister and I turned two, we had to do a tour of duty in hell. Everyone has to do it, usually the tour of duty happens at the end of one’s life, but there are special circumstances (read: forms of punishment) that forces one to do it as a child.

We were the pedophile slayers. Satan thought it would be apt to have children do the slaying. However, children are weaker so he makes it a two-person job. The natural contenders for the job are twins. Don’t let anyone tell you different, blood-letting is a grueling chore. With pitchforks in hand, we did our job day in and day out. My sister would not last the whole day and she would take long breaks sitting on a block of ice near where Satan kept the pyromaniacs - they were kept in the coolest part of hell, away from fire, flames and heat. Lots of people would hang out there to escape the heat. But I remained stoic and concentrated on dealing out the proper punishment.

Memory Lane is Laden with Potholes

Today I went through all my old papers from the two or three years of homework and research I’ve done at the University of Rochester. There was a lot of paper - I killed a lot of trees in those years. Some were humorous reminders in the form of out of hand comments about a publication I read and found fruitless or - my favorite - the homework I turned in with a buck twenty-five taped onto it. The money was for the grader to buy a drink, but he passed and returned it still attached. Others were dim reminders of my lack of a worthy study ethic and the manner with which I blew off my responsibilities. Que sera sera.

After about two hours of sorting, filing, and tossing into the recycling bin, I rode my bike home. I went to the bathroom and - suddenly - I felt nostalgic. Sweden crossed my mind, stopped there, and rolled round and round before culminating into a serene feeling. I can’t really say why this happened, there is no secret; no unmentionable act. I just cannot reason why I would feel this way, but the window in my peripheral vision, the blue sky on the other side, and the cool temperature must be key factors.

Canal Bike Ride

New York City

My sister came from Texas to visit me. She’d never been to NYC so we headed there after a day in Rochester. After we returned, I asked her, so what part of New York did you like best. I was talking about NYC, so when she said she liked the George Eastman House (in Rochester, NY) best, I was surprised and delighted. Of course, that may be a subtle critique of my role as tour guide.

Playing the role of tour guide proved to be very straining on me. Mostly because I hate tourist type activities - especially after I’ve done them already! But I managed to get through most of the NYC must-sees and spend some quality alone time in the big city; including a traditional trip to the Lincoln Plaza Cinema to watch Sketches of Frank Gehry.