Bob Bergey, our coach driver. His wife Glenna was in the last row so she couldn't be a backseat driver, said Bob, who not only had a great sense of humor but was very knowledgeable about just about everything.
The name Bergey and also Hagey are common names in Perkasie where Bob lives. Here's his awesome website.
Our Hagey coach cost half a million dollars. It contains enuf diesel fuel - not cheap at over $5 a gallon - to drive to Florida and back.
Most of the cherry blossoms had already fallen off, but since there are dozens upon dozens of varieties Bob led us down an abandoned lane where there were scads of them.
Bonnie Woods took this photo of me. Four of us sat in the very front seat - the best place to sit b/c you can talk to the driver and also have a great view.
Next to me was her dad Tom. Across the aisle was red-headed 25-yo Bonnie, who's an artist, and her mom, a woman in her 50s who had quadruple bypass surgery at Doylestown Hospital, of which she couldn't say enough. Symptoms were: she climbed up a flight of steps at work and couldn't catch her breath. Husband Tom took early retirement from Verizon.
Lincoln Memorial. Martin Luther King gave his "I Had a Dream Speech" here. I did not climb up the stairs as I was conserving my legs. I knew they would ache by day's end. But I didn't dream that I'd have a fall.
As I've said before, my photos are really meant to remind me of all the great times I've had, 66 years and counting!
Roll em Ruthie!
Vietnam Memorial. Tom, the retired Verizon man sitting next to me, was in the Navy and was in a battleship and swam in the Gulf of Tonkin.
I knew several guys who fought in the war: My cousin Dan Sewell who was really messed up after he came home, David Moyer who was in a foxhole when the Vietcong came dangerously close, and Marine Frank Marrone whose wife died of cancer and he recently remarried.
This is a statue of the women who were in the Vietnam War. Never heard of it before.
The huge WWII memorial. Again, I was saving my legs so I just strolled by.
There were LONG LINES at most of the Smithsonian museums. But the art museums were not crowded, so that's where I spend most of my time.
My friend Judy Diaz told me about the National Museum of Women in the Arts.
Outstanding! My sister Ellen was a friend of the director's - Susan Fisher (now Susan Fisher Sterling) - when we lived in Shaker Heights. We lived on Glenmore Road, she lived on Shelbourne.
I took a taxi to the women's museum. Unlike Philly or NYC, the cabs are not government-regulated, so everyone can charge what they want. All the cabs look different. I had a nice guy from Nigeria drive me to the museum. He had a blue van with sliding doors. I couldn't shut the door myself so he had to get out. You also had to step very high up. Not good for old ladies.
I told him about a movie Scott and I recently watched called The Bone Collector w/Denzel and Angelina. A cab driver kidnaps people and kills them, scraping out a bone for a souvenir. Tres suspenseful.
The above lithograph has an Emily Dickinson poem printed on it about a spider.
A book cut-out.
The previous works were on the ground floor. Mary Grady, who sat at the reception desk, helped me choose what to view. She's coming to Philly for Easter to see her kids. I thanked her when I left, but didn't tell her about my fall.
I took the stairs to the old masters room.
The museum, founded 25 yrs ago, is exquisitely beautiful. Forgot to ask Mary what the bldg used to be. Every little detail was gorgeous. So much to feast your eyes upon. Sorta like my house - seriously - where every spot in my living room office is covered with something b'ful or interesting like this:
Air Force Pilot, cover of LIFE, July 19, 1943. Ten cents a copy.
What could be more b'ful than this? That's Mary at her reception desk.
From their brochure I learned that the bldg, built in 1908, is Renaissance Revival and was formerly a Masonic temple.
Flowers in the cafe.
Contemporary art and sculpture.
Loved this foto of David slaying Goliath. It's hard to see his enemy's face but it's grotesque. BTW, did you watch The Ten Commandments on TV Saturday nite? Charleton Heston's son played baby Moses, an Egyptian name.
I only watched bits n pieces cuz I was at a Passover seder at my 'inlaws.' The living room TV always has sports on, but we three women - Natalie (Scott's mom) and Debbie (his sister) had the Samsung kitchen TV on.
This one was a real beauty, full of great details: King Philip II of Spain Upon Hearing News of the Destruction of the Armada.
Mother and her son after a flood.
This is by famed artist Alice Neel (1900-1984). This young man has been shot by a bullet and will die shortly.
These are women in the Manhattan section of Soho. (South of Houston street. Houston pronounced HOW-ston. My sister Donna used to live there. She was a potter and gave live demonstrations that you could see from Macy's outside window.)
Loved this mystical painting of rainfall.
The always recognizable Louise Nevelson. Actually there's another sculptress I thought was Nevelson, but she's Louise Bourgeois.
The young Louise Nevelson - birth name Leah Berliawsky - and her family immigrated from Czarist Russia to the US. They spoke Yiddish at home but Louise quickly learned l'anglais, as we say en francais.
The two sculptures on the right are by Nevelson. I love the one directly in front with all its interesting shapes. The painting in the back shows a powerful woman: Ruth as she was falling.
View out the window from the Nevelson room. Museum is at the corner of New York Avenue and 13th Street, NW.
I'll tell ya, I was really enchanted by all the artwork. The museum was practically empty!
This work, made of wax and melted wax, hung from the ceiling by the window. The artist was raised Catholic and this gaily colored sculpture aspires to show the contradictions inherent in the Catholic religion. Celibate priests, pedophile priests, good priests, hatred of gays, which they say is espoused in the Bible. So what? The bible is merely one book out of millions in the world.
Why not read books by gay authors such as James Baldwin, experience art work by gay men such as Andy Warhol, or poetry by gay women such as the late Adrienne Rich?
They have made enormous contributions to the world. Are they not God's children?
Fascinating painting. Look at the little man at the tail of the wounded bird and the skeletons grinning on the side.
Wonderful room of B&W photography.
I was fainting away when I saw these fotos. My friend Helene Ryesky uses that term.
Here I was really fainting away. I love abstract art.
There were many paintings from female Mexican artists, magical realism, like Freda Kahlo coming up. I still hadn't fallen, so I didn't realize how lucky I was. Lugged around my heavy backpack which contained food for the entire day and diabetes supplies.
Done by an African artist.
This is an unmistakable Georgia O'Keefe.
Here's Frida now, carrying a letter from Leon Trotsky, espousing her belief in Marxism. Trotsky, who became her lover, was gunned down by an assassin sent by Stalin.
Trotsky's great- granddaughter Nora Volkaw lived in the house where he was killed. She's now head of the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA).
This painting captures the excitement of The Big Apple.
Loved this image of mother and child. The woman looks sort of like the image of Andrew Wyeth's lover. Look, how can artists not wanna sleep w/their beautiful models?
As a former pianist, couldn't resist this shot of a female-made pianoforte or whatever the heck it is. My piano teacher, Mrs. Ann (husband Ted) Kultti - Lebanese name - died aboard a cruise ship. In my diabetes support group, a guy worked about a cruise ship. He said there are four different morgues on the ship. Just in case.
My watch said 1:45, time to get moving. Departure time was 5 pm.
Am walking down the b'ful curving stairway when - plunk - I missed the bottom step and fell to my left, causing great pain to my knee. I quickly stood up, you should really take your time after a fall, adjusted my super-heavy backpack and carefully walked down anudder flight of stairs.
My knee was stinging but I didn't have a bandaid. As I walked, I thot, I bet it drew blood. First thing I did when I came home was wash it off and cover w/a CVS bandaid in my drawer.
I stopped into the Museum of Natural History which was so crowded I left. Decided to stick with art museums. This is good ole George Washington.
I was so grateful for all the water fountains. When Sarah and I went to Europe 2 yrs ago, there were none!
This is known as the Mall. Gravel path on outskirts, kind to the feet.
Next stop Freer Museum, with Sackler Museum attached. If only this were in Willow Grove I'd go down every day.
The gallery was founded by Charles Lang Freer (1854–1919), a railroad-car manufacturer from Detroit, who gave his collections to the United States and also the funds to help construct a building for their display. The Italian-Renaissance-style gallery, constructed in granite and marble, was inspired by Freer's visits to palazzos in Italyxxx
In front of the Freer, methinks. Basically everywhere you look downtown is impossibly beautiful!
I really dug this restroom door, made of wood, and the walls of granite or marble. That Freer was one rich dude!
Nice selection of paintings by James McNeill Whistler.
Asian art galleries.
Sacred cow. What does a cow say, Gracie? My teats hurt.
How nicely the god fills the space.
Exquisite Japanese panels by Hokusai. He inspired many artists including Van Gogh, Gauguin and Manet. Wish you could see the traveling turtles up close. Motion in painting.
Hokusai's panels tell stories, just like when you look outside you can see stories. There goes Nancy from across the street in her red Toyota wagon. Doubtless she's heading to her son Wayne's house in Warrington for Easter dinner.
Jade from mines in China.
These bronze-made figures warmed up wine. The legs were stuck in fire pits.
He's a giant - 12 feet high or so - built to warn people from trespassing on an official's property.
Pottery. Everything in these rooms is incredibly old.
The Peacock Room. The entire room was moved from London to the Freer.
Oh, it looks like I'm in the National Museum of African Art, part of the Smithsonian, so it's free. Every time I went in the Smithsonian, guards searched my backpack, poking it with a stick.
I have about 6 zippered compartments. They were very nice and told me how organized I am, cuz I have initials by each pocket such as D for diabetes supplies.
I believe this is a headdress worn for ceremonial purposes in an African country.
I really flipped over these paintings. Unfortunately, goggle no longer lets us "click to enlarge."
After all the concrete, it was nice to see this secret garden, flanking the side of the Hirschhorn Gallery, designed by Mary Livingston Ripley, wife of one of the Smithsonian's directors.
Gorgeous tulips. I always bend down to smell the flowers. They really appreciate it.
What you don't know from the foto is that this is a huge sculpture filled to the brim with flowers I couldn't even glimpse.
The Hirschhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden has many outdoors sculptures such as these down a sloping hill. Two years ago Scott and I loped down, but not this time when 'time was of the essence.'
Alexander Calder sculpture out front.
This takes some explaining. Ready? No, am I ready?
This post is taking forever. Probly three hours so far.
These photos are from the exhibit "Suprasensorial: Experiments in Light, Color and Space" by five Latin American artists.
The viewer stands on the outside - like I did - and sees what's going on inside: people strolling thru.
Would've liked to go in and be all lit up. Now I'm lit up by the sun. And the thought that Jesus has risen. Oh, I forgot I'm Jewish.
One guy asked the guard where the labels were to the artwork. In other words, he wanted to see the names of the artists.
I'll tell you something. I like going to museums by myself. I can do what I want w/o inconveniencing anyone.
This was really cool! Strands of bright blue rubber-like material you pushed your way through. My hanging eyeglasses got caught so I tucked em in my shirt.
Here's a single strand.
Very cool! There was a movie playing - and you made yourself comfortable on these mats and cushions. Sure felt good to relax.
I usually nap during the day but on the trip I wasn't even tired until I sat down.
An old favorite by Picasso of mother and child.
Loved this by a black artist similar to Romare Bearden. I think they're making shoes.
"Half-naked Men Holding Christ" by black artist Marsden Hartley, 1877-1943. This foto is from this blog.
David Smith (1906-1965), one of my favorite sculptors. In later years, he did monumental work for the great outdoors. Lyndon Johnson appointed him for the National Council of the Arts. Later that year, when he was 59 yrs old, he died in a car crash.
I headed back to the bus in plenty of time. 5 pm departure time at the Air and Space Museum, the most popular museum in DC. Didn't realize there were two entrances, front and back.
Saw my new friends Sandy and Will Johns at the bus stop. They're from Fort Washington. I told them I thot Will looks like one of our former presidents. Can u guess who? They went to the very crowded American History Museum to see the gowns of president's wives, including Michele's. She's a really snazzy dresser. Her shoes were also there. But me, I was cruising thru the art museums.
Abbey Road. The reason I shot this was b/c there was a blinking neon-sign - in the back on the left - that read No Left Turn. Never saw such a sign before.
Everyone was starving and ready for dinner at Union Station. Last time Scott and I were there - with my friend Jonatha Johnson - we ate on the lower level in the food court.
Now I wanted a delicious meal.
Ate a turkey cheese-burger at the Thunder Grill, minus the roll, and had a few french fries.
I checked my diabetes numbers outside - they were good - so I waited to inject until I was at table.
Brought all my own food from home, checking my sugars before eating: chunks of caraway Havarti cheese, Triscuits for my carbs, egg salad I made the night before, and peanuts.
Busdriver Bob Bergey constantly monitors the roads and learned there were traffic jams on the route he usually takes.
We detoured so that we crossed the beautiful Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore. It's very long. Linda covered her eyes with her hood since she's afraid of crossing bridges. My dad had a phobia of driving over bridges. I can't drive thru tunnels if they're too long.
The English Channel Tunnel opened in 1994.
On our way home. Bob got us safely back to Lightpole No. 5 at Montgomery Mall.
When my kids were little, I used to drive to a comic book store for Daniel. It was next to a car parts store w/a man made out of radiator parts.
The moon was out when I drove home along 309. I missed the first turn toward home - I had written the word EAST - on my pad, but luckily there was a U-turn, like like on the way there.
At the Museum of African Art I bought the above bracelet made in Kenya. It was in the sale basket for $9.
I couldn't resist this lovely wall hanging from Nigeria, made on banana skin paper.
That's me, this morning, when the kids came over.
Signing off, yours truly, Ruth Z Deming. I keep the Z in the there cuz Deming is my former husband's name.