Up the Tree

My father is not of the _web generation._ He is a 65 year-old architect turned graphic designer who couldn’t give a flying flock about weblogs, but now has a “corporate journal”:http://www.wandco.com/ thanks to my pushing. Part of having a journal is commenting on weblogs which you find interesting, but that can bring up problems you may not have anticipated.

“It’s SO SMALL! How can you read that? That’s ridiculous!”

*(6 Comments)*

“Dad it’s a comment box, just write a comment.”

“I can’t just write a comment in that small little space,” he pleads to me “I can’t see it! I’ll copy and paste it into an Indesign document and paste it back when I’m done.”

“It’s just a comment dad, just write something… anything!”

40 minutes passes a he studiously refines what is to be the comment to end all comments. A profound, engaging recourse with the weblog community in which he shall connect with the _webloggers._

*(16 Comments)*

“Okay, hows this look?” He asks.

“Fine.” I say not really paying any attention.

“is it too negative?”

“Maybe the ‘vomit out type’ bit’s a little strong, but it’s fine.”

“Yeah, that seemed a little much to me too.”

It seemed that no matter how I tried yesterday, I could not get to work on time. Memorial weekend passed and I stumbled to the F train as usual. I first noticed something strange as well dressed women in polite work wear began exiting my station. This, while commonplace after 5, was unusual for 8:20 in the morning.

!(photo)http://www.upthetree.com/wp-uploads/IMG_2635.jpg(F train entrance)!

“It’s not running” one woman exclaimed while walking passed me.

Unfortunately where I live in Brooklyn, near Park Slope, is almost completely inaccessible without the F train’s help. A young man approached me flummoxed. “Well how do we get to Manhattan from here?” _here_ meaning the middle of nowhere. I calmly explained to the young man that the bus was probably his best bet and he thanked my suggestion and walked away bewildered.

It took a brisk one and a half mile walk to reach the R train on 4th street to get to work at all, as the bus had been converted into a shuttle which was continuously full of angry commuters from stations further away from Manhattan than mine.

Apparently a service train derailed causing the huge delays and my unexpected workout.