Notes from our travels:I've been to several Big Cities in our area (and a little beyond) over the past year (Chicago, Detroit, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Indianapolis, Philadelphia, St. Louis and Pittsburgh) and my very brief visits have led me to an undoubtedly shallow judgment: I liked Pittsburgh the best. At least as far as the downtown area goes. It's on the rivers, of course, and there's been some nice development down there. Sort of reminded Michael of Jacksonville. There's no question, with all due respect to its past difficulties, that Detroit is my least favorite. It's a mess - no "there" there, despite the obvious efforts to develop something attractive. It's not working. The huge Greektown Casino is a cheesy deal, the new Tigers' stadium is deeply reminiscent of the Swan or the Dolphin hotels at Disneyworld with huge tigers springing from its facade every few feet, and there are apparently no regular smaller downtown businesses in the area to bring a sense of people, rather than just buildings stuck there to get folks to come from the outside in.
Funniest moment of the trip: Joseph sprawled asleep in my lap during the Pirates-Astros game, startled to half-awakeness by sudden cheers. In a split second, his eyes open to slits, he raises his arms above his head, claps twice, and then collapses back into sleep.
Greatest rant-making moment: Our time at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, naturally. Not my kind of place, but Christopher asked to go, so we went. I hasten to add that he was unimpressed, as well, so his critical faculties are obviously still intact.
Of course, much has been written about the this place, so there's not much to add, but I was, nonetheless struck by the continual ironies: a monument set up to celebrate music that celebrates rebellion, that self-consciously mentions the rebellious nature of its subject constantly doing the following: charging a hefty admission fee, slapping plastic armbands on ticket holders, herding people Disney-like into theaters to watch films (one good, one ordinary) before they begin the tour, and then the usual museum rules. The museum rules which, of course, obligated one little pierced gatekeeper who probably spends her non-working hours defying her parents and disrespecting her teachers telling ME to take Joseph's little smidgen of pretzel away from him because, you know, food's not allowed in the place devoted to cretins who pride themselves on who can tear up a hotel room the fastest and best.
And then, of course, there's the whole lie of the rock-and-roll pose, anyway. It's not about rebellion. It's about pretending that you're rebellious so you can exploit adolescents' need to rebel right down to the bottom of their wallets. The whole thing makes me gag.