In Transit


After a very social weekend in New Hampshire with family, I gratefully sunk into my solitary train seat and attempted to read through some of Emily Dickinson's poetry. I was thinking about how much I loved this line:

...Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

When I began to pick up on the conversation in front of me. It was a young boy, probably between 8 and 10, talking to either his father or grandfather about an endless variety of topics. At first I mentally shelved it as chatter and thus disposable, but was re-interested as we passed the 125th St-Harlem exit.

The little boy interrupted his current of thought to ask if this was where the Harlem Renaissance took place.

He then proceeded, fantastically, to describe how he had learned about all sorts of artists, "like Aaron Douglas" who had been "a cubist painter." When asked to explain cubism, "Oh, you know, like with all sorts of geometric shapes." "I remember this one painting we saw, I don't remember the painter, but it was of this woman's face, but she only had one eye, and her face was cut in half and sort of sideways, like her nose was covering up the other half, and she was all different colors."

He then launched into a recitation of the developments in Chinese art tools as we ended our journey.
It made me quite happy to hear someone enjoy learning so much.