Last Day in New York, New York; April 8
Since I’d blubbered my way through an explanation of all
that happened on 9/11 when we were in Shanksville last week, I avoided the brief
emotional breakdown that I am sort of famous for in these situations, but it is
a touching memorial. You really get the picture that this was an international
tragedy when you see so many people from other countries crowding into the
memorial.
Brian's teeny tiny coffee |
It was a short enough walk to the Museum of Modern Art,
where Andrew drank in the art, Natalie tried to push through in spite of a cold
that was starting to bring her down, and Allison and I searched every room for
a bench to rest on—seems like I need a lot more physical therapy. Brian saw
half of the art that he learned about in his Modern Art and Architecture
textbook at Calvin.
Highlights included Van Gogh’s “Starry Night,” Dali’s “The
Persistence of Memory,” Rousseau’s “The Dream;” Allison did make an exception
to her strike on art when she saw Magritte’s “The Empire of Light,” which she
refers to as “the optical illusion one.” She is exceedingly disdainful of a
short film that played on a loop, which included naked people. “I mean, they
wouldn’t let you walk around naked, why do they let you show it???” Something
tells me she will avoid any “Drawing the Human Figure” classes as an adult.
We had intended to get to the Guggenheim yet, to see the
building if nothing else, but we were finished. Much as we have loved New York,
we just needed some rest. It’s always good to leave a few things for next time.
We went back home to get some much-needed dinner and start packing up.
Back at the hotel, Andrew brought us our favorite moment of
the day—he changed my iPad’s Siri voice to Spanish, and then our self-professed
“almost fluent” son asked Siri a rather poorly posed question in Spanish. A
torrent of Spanish words came rushing out of the iPad, and his look of complete
incomprehension had us periodically breaking into laughter for the next hour.
Trying to communicate with the disembodied voice in another language has kept
the girls occupied for some time. Looks like they all need a bit more brushing
up.
Tomorrow Brian takes a 6 am flight home, and we begin the
drive back to GR. Twelve hours didn’t seem so long for one day when we started
planning this, but it sounds huge now. Perhaps we’ll take an unexpected night
in Toledo. But the next big thing starts at noon on Thursday—the Festival of
Faith and Writing at Calvin—so I really want to get back! We’ll see how this
goes.