Ode to the Colonel 12/11/07
 When I returned from India in 2001, I moved into a gorgeous hundred-year old home with The Colonel, a sweet old man who loved and supported the arts. A friend and I each rented fully furnished rooms, and lived in a museum-like home for $50 a month. The rules were solid. Four hours of chores a week, absolutely NO BOYS on the second & third floors, and mind your manners. I adored the claw foot tub and pink vintage bathroom that had belonged to his late wife, Gertrude. I also fell in love with the huge library that spanned the majority of the third floor. It was full of dusty old books and knick-knacks the Colonel collected overseas. I’m still kicking myself for not taking a picture of that room.
The Colonel’s house was always quiet as if frozen in time. He preserved the furniture and décor meticulously in its original state since the 1920’s. When I was living in the house I would often pretend that I lived in another time. I could trick myself most of the time until I stepped outside and into the city that pulsed with hip hop. The rhythm of the old grandfather clock was the only reminder of time sneaking forward and another hour passing.
The Colonel always wore a hat when he went out, and drove a huge 1970’s yellow Caddy. I got to ride with him a couple of times to the diner 5 minutes away.
The Colonel passed away in November, and I wanted to give a shout out to him.
Please enjoy these photos taken in his home.
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