Bridging It

Who knew that a tour of the bowels of a bridge would be so popular?

The bridge celebrates its 100th year

Last Saturday, thousands of Clevelanders were permitted to enter the lower level of Detroit-Superior Bridge for a self-guided tour. This used to be an annual event. But repairs made over the last four years had derailed the tour. (Pun intended, thanks.)

Mr. and I queued up with a lot of other folks and their families to walk back and forth along the lower level of the bridge to see what we could see. This is the area where streetcars (AKA trolleys) carried passengers into and out of Downtown Cleveland. The streetcars ran from 1917 until 1954, when the automobile effectively eliminated its once-robust ridership. Just to note, the upper level still carries car/bicycle/foot traffic.

As well as enjoying a good stretch of the legs, we got a view of downtown that was enjoyed on a daily basis by commuters back in the day. I sensed the ghosts of Clevelanders past, imagined their feelings as they rode to work or to do a little shopping. Or maybe they were on their way to school or a baseball game at League Park. What were their worries? Their dreams? Their joys? The streetcars were in service through two world wars and the Great Depression. I imagine folks had a lot on their minds besides what to make for dinner.

We saw the place where the overhead wires lived that carried the electric power that drove the cars. The front of a streetcar. The recessed lighting in the walls. And the concrete and steel that came together to create this wondrous structure.

The tour complete, we headed for the exit.

As we walked along the tunnel with the white tiled walls that led us out, I thought about the other feet that walked this way decades earlier.

Up the stairs and into the sunlight. Back to hearth and home.

Newsiness

I have to admit, I kind of miss the grocery store rag, News of the World.

There were always sensational headlines with photoshopped images.

Who could forget the giant head of Satan in a mushroom cloud with a prediction about the end of the world?

Or the world's largest baby.

As we stood in line waiting for our turn to check out, we would laugh about the ridiculous claims that were touted in 72 point headlines. It was entertainment. So outrageous, no one with a smidge of a sense would think the stories were true.

Fast forward to the present. Just in the last week, I have gotten inundated with unsolicited ads that have titles like, "The cancer prevention food that pharmaceutical companies don't want you to know about."

Today, I got a post with "The 15 fast foods you don't want to eat." I decided to bite. Reading through the stories, there was one recurring theme. Not one of them quoted a trusted expert, or even a spokesperson from the establishment in question. Invariably, they all started out with something like, "According to a former employee..." Now, you've got to ask yourself who these former employees are and why they left/were fired. Or if they even existed.

In addition, the article makes sweeping statements. Like, it's difficult to clean out soft drink machines, so there could be e-coli in the pop you get from a fast food restaurant. Also included are comments about how food is microwaved (big surprise) or it arrives at the restaurant frozen (so shocking).

The trouble, of course, is that some of the claims sound like they could be legitimate. But no one has made an effort to verify them. So, you are left feeling vaguely queasy about ever eating out again.

I'll bet that a lot of folks walk away believing every word of it.

This is the danger of internet "news." And why reputable journalists keep harping on the importance of sticking with a news source you can trust, and investigating vague claims by questionable sources.

I think Abe Lincoln said it best: "Don't believe everything you read on the internet."

Vision: Accomplished

E-V-O-T-Z-2

I watched while Mr. Ginley took his eye test yesterday, reciting line after line of jumbled alphabet letters and numbers. The giant robo glasses were poised before his eyeballs, as the doctor shifted one lens, then another and repeated, "Better or worse?"

Anyone who has been to the eye doctor knows the drill well. 

Fun fact: If you are nearsighted, your distance eyesight improves as you grow older. The doctor told Mr. Ginley that he just has to live to 105, and his vision will be 20/20.

Good to know.

I am well versed in the various eye tests and whatnot that are performed at the ophthalmologist's office. Over the years, the technology, as one would expect, has become amazing. For example, there is a machine that can plot my optic nerve, so they know if there has been any change since the last time I was there. (I am prone to glaucoma, although, thankfully, there is no sign of it yet.)

One thing that has not changed is the drops. Which is part of the reason I was driving Mr. Ginley to the eyedoc yesterday. With pupils that enlarged to take over his irises, he was in no condition to drive. (This did not preclude us, however, from visiting the book store located across the street.)

Those of us of a certain generation who can be classified as having "four eyes" remember well the first pair of glasses.

For Mr. Ginley, it was an epiphany. He read street signs all the way home, until his dad told him to shut up. He asked his dad if the signs had always been there, because he'd never seen them before.

I was 11 when I got my first pair of glasses. I couldn't see the blackboard. After I got them, I still couldn't see the blackboard, because I refused to wear them. My specs lived in the little silver and black case I hid in my desk. I would surreptitiously pull them out when I absolutely had to. Most of the time, I faked it. The glasses were a brown tortoise shell that made me look like a total geek.

It wasn't until my mom took me to the eye doctor four years later (and the guy yelled at me and accused me of ruining my eyesight), that I finally agreed to wear glasses all the time. By then, the prescription was so strong, it felt like I could see for miles. The sidewalk looked so clear, I had trouble walking until I got used to my new specs. I didn't mind them, because they were wire frames, just like John Lennon's. They didn't overpower my face, they were actually a bit of okay.

For a time in the early 80's, I wore contact lenses.  I very much liked the way they looked and the fact that my peripheral vision kicked ass. But my eyes got so dry, if I didn't get home from work by 6:00 to take them out, they drove me nuts. After awhile, I gave up and went back to glasses.

These days, I'm waiting for the cataracts to grow. I've been assured that post-surgery, I'll have fabulous vision again. I may not need to wear glasses all the time.

We'll see.

In the meantime, I'm thankful to live in an age when eyeglasses are possible. If I were in a time machine, I'd go back and slap that vane youngster upside the head and tell her no one cares about her stupid glasses, just put them on and get on with life. Too many calories wasted over something stupid.

These days, eyeglasses are fashionable. The dark frames we hated as kids are very much in style. The doctor told us yesterday that some kids are actually disappointed that their vision doesn't require them to wear glasses.

Who would've seen that coming?

Just This

I've gotten so used to blocking out the world so that I can concentrate, it has begun to occur to me that I am missing things.

Walking out into a lovely world to get the newspaper, I put my life on pause.

Donned in my snazzy pink and black pajamas, I sat on the slightly damp porch chair and gazed upward. Ginormous clouds scuttled by, north to south. They covered the sun for a bit, but I could see the light sitting on top of them. Instead of wondering what the world looked like from up there, I concentrated on my own little corner.

Engaging in an exercise I haven't in some time, I closed my eyes and just listened. At first, I heard a few birds. Then a persistent cricket. A siren. A car driving by. Then the subtler sounds. Wind through leaves. A train engine. Different birds, farther away. I acknowledged each and went on to the next.

Then I opened my eyes and looked. The tops of the grass wet with dew. A spider web glistening in the streaks of sunlight. A flock of starlings gathering in the tree across the way. A neighbor playing catch with her dog.

Then I just breathed for awhile. I didn't think about work or the day ahead or the day behind.

I did let the thought creep in that I should do this every day.

Then I forgave myself and went inside to have breakfast.