Mean Hurricane Irene

This last week has been less colorful without Roman in the branches. Last night while we were out for a perch, Black Jack flew in with some shaky news: a hurricane was making its way towards us. "What's it's name?" asked Sophia. "Irene," buzzed Black Jack, "And she's lean enough and mean enough that we need to evacuate."

And just like that, the wind started howling and the rain started pounding. To keep things light, we all took names of hurricanes for 2011: Black Jack = Bret; Algernon = Harvey; Stilts = Philippe; Silas = Sean; Yvette = Rena; Magnus = Vince; Sophia = Katia; Pascal = Lee; The Twins = Ophelia and José; Penny = Gert; Edward = Don; me = Nate.

We took a break on a lamp post while the adventurers of the troop (Bret, Gert, Sean and Lee) did a little reconnaissance.

Did you know the names of hurricanes alternate from girl names to boy names, every other time? Did you know they go in alphabetical order? Did you know another name for a hurricane is a tropical cyclone? Did you know weathervanes are 3500 years old?

We were able to reach Roman and find out he was okay. When times are stormy, it's important to make sure your flock is safe.

Thankfully, we found a dry place where we could wait out the storm. Sophia began, almost immediately, to relay stories of Poseidon and why he does what he does. As we sat and listened and got lost in the sound of the wind and rain and Sophia's tales, I realized that sometimes it takes a hurricane to remind me of who and what is important.

Broken On The Brooklyn Bridge

Sometimes, even when the sun comes up in the morning and the sky is full of summer-blue, sad news comes floating on the wind. A couple mornings ago, Roman told me he was thinking of leaving The Troop and asked if he could talk to me about it. I said yes and told him I'd meet him on the steps leading up to the Brooklyn Bridge.

We flew to the top of the arches and sat for awhile. I could tell he was a little nervous to talk, so I waited. I thought about the hard work it would be to build an incredible bridge and then I thought about the hard time Roman must be having. There's no two-ways about it: bridge building is difficult but deconstructing a bridge may be more difficult.

We flew to a bench and Roman asked, "Did you know the first creator of this bridge died as a result of working on this bridge? Did you know the creator's son was paralyzed from working on it?" I shook my head no and stayed quiet a little longer. Roman was having a hard time with his life-bridge.

Bridges are structures that get you from one place to another; bridges help people stay above water; bridges are constantly being used by folks going in opposite directions.

Even though bridges makes it easy to cross from one side to the other side, you occasionally run into sharp-pointed obstacles.

Suspension cables need to be anchored to either side of a bridge to create tension. The tension helps to keep it up. The suspension cables are made up of hundreds of smaller cables. But what if your suspension cables are losing their anchor? What if it feels like your bridge is broken or breaking?

Roman told me that even though he knew there was plenty of blue-sky above, he was feeling trapped on his life's-bridge. I cried. Have you ever felt that way before? I have.

We sat above the

East River

and took some time to look at the 8 bridges that spanned it—8 different bridges made to cross the same body of water.

When some time passed, I asked Roman a question, "What can we do to help you?" "I'm not sure," he said, "But I think I need to leave for awhile. I need some time and space to figure out how to rebuild my bridge."

What do you do when you don't know what to do? What do you do when your friend is weary, feeling small, when tears are in his eyes?

You find his "can't be found" friends when darkness comes and pain is all around him. You take his part.

You remind him the time has come to shine and his dreams are on their way.

You tell him: If you need friends, we're sailing right behind like a bridge over troubled waters. And maybe one day, the wind will bring him back.

Algernon's Afton

Algernon wanted to treat the troop to some good R&R outta the city. So we packed our packs, took the Z-Breeze to Evanston, transferred to the N-Blast and landed at a little lake called Murphy in Bridger National Forest.

It was close to dusk when we arrived, so we set up sleeping arrangements immediately: girls on one side, boys on the other. The Upper Twin was having a bit of separation anxiety about the matter and bent Edward's ear about it.

Pascal, Penny and Silas prepped the camp fire for our tin-foil dinners. Why is it that you can stare into fire and never get bored? Why is it that food always tastes better when camping?

I'm usually always up before the sun—especially when the temperature drops below 40º.

Having separated during the night, The Twins were chilled due to the lack of body heat.

Algernon spent some time listening to the pines and watching the mist rise off the lake.

When Roman woke up, he began an immediate hunt for wild flowers...

... which caused Stilts to follow, whistling something from Tom Petty.

Yvette and Edward made some real progress in understanding the difference between bird calls and bird songs. 

Pascal found his camouflage with the Indian paint brush and then immediately consumed them.

Just when we thought she couldn't get any better, Sophia pulled out a real show-stopper / jaw-dropper: tip-toeing on water.

Black Jack, Penny and Silas conjured Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer to help raft the lake.

Summers are for outings and camp outs and QT in the great outdoors with your favorite peeps.

Midnight Meeting at The Met

You remember how Edward digs men's digs, right? Well, turns out he knows a thing or two about women's fashion, as well. He said he'd pay anybody's way that "met" up with him on Fifth Avenue and 82nd Street to see one of the most popular exhibits in New York's history. A few of the Troopers agreed. Roman and Algernon went with him to be finish-line judges for the racing duel between Black Jack and Penny.

After the squabble about the tie between the Troop's two most competitive birds, they made their way to their destination: The Metropolitan Museum of Art—also known by its nickname: "The Met." Edward explained a sad tale about the talented man whose work they were going to see, Alexander McQueen. "Sometimes," Roman replied, "art is sad and beautiful."

The atrium was buzzing with people intent on seeing Mr McQueen's show, Savage Beauty. The waiting time was listed for 2.5 hours! Just when they were about to turn around (even though Edward and Roman would have stayed), they were approached by a beautiful and elegant yellow bird. "Hello. My name is Sophia Carmella and I can get you to the front of the line." The boys gulped, stared and nodded in silence. Penny stifled a laugh.

Roman asked Sophia to stop before they entered so he could pose with the Rodin. "I've always wanted to be The Walking Man," he confessed. "You wear bronze well, Mr Times," Sophia admitted, "If I didn't know better, I would think you were a Burgher." "Yeah," said Black Jack, "he's a real Big Mac."

THE WALKING MAN by RODIN

After they visited Savage Beauty, they discussed the paradox of calling something "savage" and "beautiful." This prompted Sophia to take them to the sculpture courtyard where all was dark, quiet and after hours. With a golden voice, she told them tales about Sappho—one of the world's great lyric poets. "Some would say it was savage that women were rarely recognized for their extraordinary gifts or that her poetry is all but lost. How can something so beautiful be forgotten?"

SAPPHO by COMTE PROSPER D'EPINAY

Did you know that this face was cut from stone? Did you know the stone is marble and that it comes from a place in France called Saint-Béat?

DETAIL from UGOLINO AND HIS SONS by JEAN-BAPTISTE CARPEUX

Some people believe a famous sculptor said: Every block of stone has a statue inside of it.

DETAIL from UGOLINO AND HIS SONS by JEAN-BAPTISTE CARPEUX

Sometimes beautiful things take time to create. Sometimes rocky things end up being the most delicate. Sometimes patience and determination can create something miraculous.

DETAIL from UGOLINO AND HIS SONS by JEAN-BAPTISTE CARPEUX

The girls tip-toed onto the shoulder of the goddess of beauty. "Venus really was a savage beauty—" whispered Sophia. "Although she was beautiful, she was rebellious and quick to judge. Too bad she didn't realize beauty is more than skin deep."

VENUS by ANTONIO CANOVA

Sometimes beautiful things cause people to act savagely. "Paris started a war and launched 1,000 ships to abduct a beautiful woman," remarked Sophia. "Beauty can blind us to reason if we aren't watchful."

PARIS by ANTONIO CANOVA

VASE WITH THE ATTRIBUTES OF AUTUMN by NICOLAS-SEBASTIAN ADAM

Sophia's stories went on for hours, past midnight, atop an autumnal vase.  She taught the Troop about great myths, legends and histories that served as the backbone to many of the world's most significant works of art. An ever-listening Algernon quietly stated, "It seems that art is simply story-telling with chisels and paint and thread."

In the dark halls of The Met, Sophia brought her stories to a close with an intriguing last-thought: "If you really want to know the great secret to great art," she softly whispered to the spellbound Troop, "Identify something sad or unfortunate that has happened in your life and make something beautiful out of it."

Invigorated and enlightened from a long day at The Met, the Troop took their time flying home with a new acquisition for their jolly collection: an elegant, yellow bird with a knack for story-telling.