Freshman

I stand here like an artist at the bedroom window holding my notebook trying to paint pictures of words. Should I go to the living room where the view is of the city? Here at the bedroom window is the view of Benefit Street. It's 7:45 in the morning. Up here it's quiet and safe, but below me there are cars moving along and people walking. I'm at my best with my cup of black smack, expecting a high. This is the best part of the day for me. Across the street is a three-story white house. There are blinds on the window that faces mine. I wonder who lives there? There's an old VW wagon in the backyard. Next door to the white house is a brownstone with black shutters. Further down is the First Unitarian Church with its 200 -foot- high tower and spire that rises above massive Corinthian columns that mark the entrance. I can see the clock in the tower from my bedroom window and from my office. It's gives me the time as I work. It's 8:20. On my left is another great view. Another brownstone with a penthouse apartment at the top. There is also a cottage-like place with a brick wall that curves for 20 feet and ends in a huge door. 2 George Street. Now who lives there? (I found out later that Eliza Ward, daughter of Joseph Brown, lived there when it was built in 1814). In 1987 my friend Harry moved in. My pen in hand outlines the thoughts and scribbles of an innocent child in awe of what she is seeing. In the five minutes that have past, more people have materialized, some look important with papers in their hands. I love morning people. I see a bike in front of that brick wall. I don't think that if I had one, I would ride it the three blocks to work. No, I think I will walk. I am waiting for the Narragansett Electric man to come. Had to miss my meeting this morning. It is good that I have to wait here instead of running around because I would never have taken the time to stop, and I must. All good things are in my head, but it's going to take a lot of quiet time to bring the thoughts out. It's so wonderful here. I hate to leave to see what I can see in the living room although it has a great view over the city. A girl or woman just went by. She has on a green, brown, and purple jacket with long, black boots and a great bag. Dressed properly for the chilly day. The way they dress up here on the Hill--anything goes. I am standing here which proves to me that if you're going to write or have sex, you can do it anywhere. You can write without a desk and have sex without a bed if the desire is there. I'm 54. A slow learner. I have now moved to the view of the skyline at the rear of the apartment. There is the gold dome of the Old Stone Bank where I have been going for thirteen years making my small deposits from a small business. There is a man in work clothes working on the dome. There is staging all around it. I'm sure they don't know I've moved in, otherwise they would have been all finished by now. The're are tall buildings and short ones, most are quite old but two are very new. In fact, there was a lot of flack about this one outside to my left. It's square and very modern. On my right is the courthouse that has been there since 1877. I see cars but the people walking are much smaller for they are far away. There are two men now working on the huge gold dome. See, they know I'm here, and they're hurrying things up. Like I have done all my life, making things look great for new arrivals. My new home on this block was once owned by Thomas Poynton Ives, a native of Massachusetts, who like myself, was a successful merchant. He was also a partner in Brown & Ives. In 1814, he built four, three-story, brick row houses with a low hip roof. Each house has a 3-bay facade (my front window that gives me the view of Benefit Street) and paired,pedimental fanlight doorways flanked by paneled pilasters. This building, that was erected as an investment in 1814, is now my sanctuary. Do I ever have money problems, but all this is worth it. The safeness and quiet, the privacy of it. Thank you God for leading me here. I pray I will use it well.

Copyright; Ruth Mahoney 7-Jan-87

 

December 30,1986 It's coming to the end of '86 I feel confused, lost. I don't know, maybe I'm closer to the third step--turning my life over to the care of God, as I understand him or her. Maybe I'm not to make this move. I'm like a woman without a place for her things. I must not lose ground for I'm not seeing things as they are. Everything may be going in my favor, but my self-destructive behavior may be acting up. I feel powerless over people, places and things. I can't write!