Stacy Horn

A few photographs from my visit to the Houghton and Pusey libraries at Harvard yesterday. As always, librarians are wonderful. At Houghton everything was all ready and waiting for me, and while I was there the librarians made inquiries to get the permissions I needed.

AND, when I walked into Pusey 20 minutes before closing that librarian not only raced to get me the materials I needed (I’m furiously filling out forms, she furiously entering them) she tracked down information I didn’t know was there which turned out to be exactly what I needed.

I wasn’t allowed to take pictures of the inside of the libraries. This is looking down into Harvard yard from the steps of Widener Library, where I had to register and get an ID to look at Special Collections. (I have a growing pile of these kinds of IDs.)

This was just like a picture I posted recently, so I had to take it. This is looking out from Harvard yard into Harvard Square.

This was a motorcycle parked in front of the house where I lived when I lived in Cambridge. I always have such intense feelings when I go back to Cambridge and take the walk from Harvard Square to this apartment. I don’t well up, I don’t feel anxiety, I can’t even really describe it. You know, there are so many feelings we don’t have names for. It’s like I’m on high alert, every feeling, every sense is operating at 11. It’s not unpleasant, in fact it feels great.

For this library visit I estimate that I’ve got less four hours. I wrote everything out:

– Bolt Bus 8am from 34th & 8th by Tick Tock. Red Line to Harvard Square.
– Go to Widener Library Privileges Office, get Special Collections card. Can take up to an hour.
– Then go to Houghton. Ordered boxes 7, 18, 39. Wildcards: 6, 8, 47.
– Check on site contents list for Randall Thompson papers for next time.
– Check box 3 (different collection) for Carl (a Thompson scholar who has been helping me).
– Go to Harvard University Archives for Boott Prize book. Use main entrance of Lamont Library (but located in Pusey?) closes at 4.

The Grace Church magnolia tree. I think I post a picture of this tree every year. This is looking out from the churchyard towards Broadway.

I’ve got a pretty decent panoramic view from the roof of my building. I can see the Empire State Building, the Hudson River, downtown, and so on. But it’s also fun to look down, where I can see into several backyards. This is one to the west.  It’s not very green, is it? I would make this more of a garden if this were mine.  But maybe they’re all renters and they can’t. If I move my camera a little to the right …

… I get more of a Rear Window-type view. Everyone has a terrace! There’s no one there now, but when the weather gets warm, as it’s starting to, there will be more life in the back, and parties. I live in the front though, so I can only see when I’m on the roof. I’m not Jimmy Stewart with a telescope/camera. I can’t tell you anything about my backyard neighbors. I’m sure they’re all very lovely people. Not a murderer among them.

There’s an article in the Times today titled One Size Fits Nobody. It really is annoying that there is no consistency in sizing. Until recently, I had jeans in my closet ranging from size 2 to 8, all of which fit. (I say until recently because I did a major jeans clear out, getting rid of anything old and raggedly which was almost everything.)

This is 5th Avenue in the Flat Iron district. It’s where I go to shop when I need something QUICK. I can just hit one store after another and usually find what I need. It’s not ideal because there are few stores where I can find something relatively unique. But at least there’s Anthropologie.

Sometimes I feel most alive when it’s relatively quiet, and I can just sit and listen to birds. I don’t know what it is about them. If I hear the sounds of birds that I heard in my childhood especially—and I can’t even identify the birds I’m hearing—it’s like something inside of me wakes up. And I’m happy. Any bird sound will do, though. They all awaken something.

It’s usually the morning, of course, I’m listening to them right now, as I type. There are other sounds which don’t intrude, they almost fit, like lawn mowers when I was a kid, or a car or a truck now.

I wonder what it is about birds. What is it that their sounds are tapping?