My morning constitutional consists of walking the perimeter of Nicollet Island. At a brisk pace, this is a 20-minute walk, but I usually dilly here or dally there along the way, stopping to examine some specific feature of the island. Today I enjoyed a rooftop perspective, savoring a 360-degree panorama that I would have liked to dwell upon for longer than one minute, if not for the fact that my presence on said rooftop was uninvited, unapproved, and I suspect, illegal.
As I strode along West Island Avenue (the road running along--yep, you guessed it--the west side of the island), I took note of what are known as the Grove Street Flats. These consist of a (short) block of 19th century row houses--by 'row houses,' I mean that the houses are attached to one another. They are elegant and attractive, and do indeed retain their 19th century look. I gazed up at the rooftops and pondered what a wonderful view one might enjoy from up there. While passing the last house on the end (the end near the river, where I was walking), I peered into the open courtyard behind the building and noticed the stairway resembling a fire escape way down at the far end of t
he yard. The stairway did not seem blocked or locked in any way, so I made a quick decision and promptly acted upon it. I marched straight to the stairway, and with a sense of purpose, a spirit of irrepressible pluck and a proprietary air, as though I had every right, I climbed rapidly to the rooftop. On the rooftop, I was surprised to confront a row of enclosed patios extending the entire length of the block-long row of houses. Cool! The patios contained little tables and chairs, decorations, and various signs of habitation. My first thought was: I must make friends with someone who lives in one of these houses. What a great place for a party (in spring or summer or fall)! I then walked to the opposite edge of the rooftop and took in the view--downtown Minneapolis, the river where it flowed and fell southward to the Stone Arch Bridge, northeast Minneapolis and the historic St. Anthony Main area on the other side, and then, as I turned in a circle, the wide northern expanse bisected by the river's descent from the north.
My appreciation of the vista was short-lived. Keenly feeling my trespasser status, I turned and descended the stairway, as quickly as I'd scaled it, and on terra firma once again, continued on my merry way. I don't know if anyone saw me. I don't particularly care. I did nobody any harm, did not damage or steal anything (beyond a view that I did not pay to enjoy), and my unsolicited incursion was but momentary. It seems to me that, amongst the many crimes one might commit, trespassing is one of most innocuous, and should be one of the most forgivable. Not, of course, if you are trespassing to get gain, to spy on or otherwise encroach on the rights and privacy of others, but if you are trespassing in a place and in a way that does nobody any harm, if you are trespassing in a way that somehow leaves you edified or inspired or happier, if your trespassing educates you, fills you with new insights, enhances your appreciation of the world, of other people, of the pleasures of your senses or the value of your own life, then I say that all of us should be doing a lot more trespassing. Think of the times in your life when you have been a trespasser--when you have gone someplace you were not supposed to go--I'm going to bet that those acts of trespassing altered you in significant ways, maybe even changed the direction of your life--indeed, I suspect those acts contributed, possibly in big ways, to making you the person you are today. So, the next time you are so tempted: don't be an ass, trespass! It may turn out to represent the highest point of your day, and a memory with the power to make you smile for the rest of your life.
Life flows on, in and around us--challenge it, as you would the rapids of a river.
D.E.S.
As I strode along West Island Avenue (the road running along--yep, you guessed it--the west side of the island), I took note of what are known as the Grove Street Flats. These consist of a (short) block of 19th century row houses--by 'row houses,' I mean that the houses are attached to one another. They are elegant and attractive, and do indeed retain their 19th century look. I gazed up at the rooftops and pondered what a wonderful view one might enjoy from up there. While passing the last house on the end (the end near the river, where I was walking), I peered into the open courtyard behind the building and noticed the stairway resembling a fire escape way down at the far end of t
he yard. The stairway did not seem blocked or locked in any way, so I made a quick decision and promptly acted upon it. I marched straight to the stairway, and with a sense of purpose, a spirit of irrepressible pluck and a proprietary air, as though I had every right, I climbed rapidly to the rooftop. On the rooftop, I was surprised to confront a row of enclosed patios extending the entire length of the block-long row of houses. Cool! The patios contained little tables and chairs, decorations, and various signs of habitation. My first thought was: I must make friends with someone who lives in one of these houses. What a great place for a party (in spring or summer or fall)! I then walked to the opposite edge of the rooftop and took in the view--downtown Minneapolis, the river where it flowed and fell southward to the Stone Arch Bridge, northeast Minneapolis and the historic St. Anthony Main area on the other side, and then, as I turned in a circle, the wide northern expanse bisected by the river's descent from the north.My appreciation of the vista was short-lived. Keenly feeling my trespasser status, I turned and descended the stairway, as quickly as I'd scaled it, and on terra firma once again, continued on my merry way. I don't know if anyone saw me. I don't particularly care. I did nobody any harm, did not damage or steal anything (beyond a view that I did not pay to enjoy), and my unsolicited incursion was but momentary. It seems to me that, amongst the many crimes one might commit, trespassing is one of most innocuous, and should be one of the most forgivable. Not, of course, if you are trespassing to get gain, to spy on or otherwise encroach on the rights and privacy of others, but if you are trespassing in a place and in a way that does nobody any harm, if you are trespassing in a way that somehow leaves you edified or inspired or happier, if your trespassing educates you, fills you with new insights, enhances your appreciation of the world, of other people, of the pleasures of your senses or the value of your own life, then I say that all of us should be doing a lot more trespassing. Think of the times in your life when you have been a trespasser--when you have gone someplace you were not supposed to go--I'm going to bet that those acts of trespassing altered you in significant ways, maybe even changed the direction of your life--indeed, I suspect those acts contributed, possibly in big ways, to making you the person you are today. So, the next time you are so tempted: don't be an ass, trespass! It may turn out to represent the highest point of your day, and a memory with the power to make you smile for the rest of your life.
Life flows on, in and around us--challenge it, as you would the rapids of a river.
D.E.S.
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