Rosslyn Redux

Tag: Jim Carroll

  • Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go

    Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go

    Midpoint Milestone (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Midpoint Milestone (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Yesterday was a meaningful midpoint milestone in my quest to post a Rosslyn update every day without fail for an entire year. 

    Six months, 26+ weeks, 184 days. One new installment every 24-hours without fail. Rhapsodizing Rosslyn, celebrating our team’s accomplishments, soapboxing historic rehab and adaptive reuse, showcasing seasonality snapshots and historic Essex memorabilia, weaving in some hyperlocal haiku and place-based poetry, illuminating the mercurial transition / transformation we’re currently navigating, and sharing boathouse and icehouse updates, intriguing artifacts, and wildlife observations. 

    Call it a 184-day streak. Or call it dogged determination. Either way I have 181 days to go until I reach my goal. And with each new post, each small victory, I am growing more and more confident that I will accomplish my mission of 365 posts, one complete year of daily updates beginning on August 1, 2022 and concluding on July 31, 2023. 

    So how to commemorate this midpoint milestone? With 6 months down and 6 months to go, it feels momentous enough to pause and praise my good fortune. But should this benchmark be acknowledged with a celebratory salute? A solemn ceremony? A toast, my first spirited sip after 31 days of teetotaling? (Yesterday marked the conclusion of my 7th or 8th, maybe even my 9th “dry January”.) Or perhaps a decadent dessert after a sugar free month? (For some sadomasochistic reason I’ve decided in recent years to add a sugar fast to alcohol abstention during the month of January, a timely recovery after the excesses of Thanksgiving-through-New Years…) A new month (ie. rabbit-rabbit) ritual transcending the delicious dinner I shared with Jim and Mark two nights ago at Juniper?

    Slow Cooked Whole Rabbit: cumin, blood orange and smoked paprika glazed, corn tortillas, chimichurri, salsa fresca, refried beans (Source: Juniper at Hotel Vermont)

    Maybe a romantic romp with my bride who suggested, upon retrieving me from the airport yesterday, that we celebrate a belated anniversary to compensate for the one we missed this past autumn when she was unwell. 17 years of marriage and 21 years together. I’m incredulous even as I type these numbers. Neither seems remotely possible. But my 50th birthday seemed similarly inaccurate this past spring, and I’m obliged to accept it.

    Or how about we honor the 200th anniversary of Rosslyn’s front façade, ostensibly completed in 1823? (Apparently 3/5 of the building — the two window portion to the north of the entrance, as well as the entrance itself — was completed in 1820. The remaining 2/5, including the two windows to the south of the entrance and comprising the dining room downstairs, a guest bedroom and Susan’s study on the second floor, and another guest bedroom on the third floor, was most likely finished three years later in 1823, fulfilling the the architectural promise of this classic Federal home with Georgian and Greek Revival elements.

    An auspicious confluence of milestones and anniversaries. I’m choosing to interpret this is a good omen even as I nevertheless acknowledge that I’ve meandered from my original mark, hoisting the flag at my halfway point, mid-journey in my post-a-day quest. I recall an earlier waypoint in this quest, an update I published on October 10, 2022 when I was still just shy of halfway to where I am today.

    Yesterday marked ten weeks of old house journaling. Every. Single. Day. Two months and ten days back at the helm of this wayward, meandering, sometimes unruly experiment I call Rosslyn Redux. I emphasize the daily component of this benchmark because it’s been an important part of the goal I committed to at the end of July. (Source: Old House Journaling)

    Then as now my emphasis on everyday journaling remains a top priority.

    Over the last few years, Susan and I have scrutinized our hopes and expectations with Rosslyn. We have reevaluated our plans as they originally were in 2006 when we embarked on this adventure and as those plans evolved during the decade and a half since. It’s been an extended period of introspection, evaluating our current wants and needs, endeavoring to align our future expectations and goals with respect to one another and with respect to Rosslyn, and challenging one another to brainstorm beyond the present.

    There’s no question but that our impromptu quarantine at Rosslyn during the spring and summer of 2021 catalyzed some of this soul-searching. But so too have the many life changes in recent years. Our gradual shift toward Santa Fe as our base and Essex as our getaway rather than the other way around. The loss of Susan’s mother. My parents’ retirement near us in Santa Fe. Our nephews and nieces growing up and expanding their orbits far beyond Rosslyn. A perennially postponed but driving desire to collaborate on a smaller, efficient, creative lakeside home of a different DNA altogether, an unrepressable will to imagine into existence the sort of slow cooked (albeit shapeshifting) and highly experimental homestead we originally envisioned in 2003-5 when we first began to explore our Adirondack Coast homecoming. And there is that hiccup in our 2006 original timeline, our 2-4 year vision for homing at Rosslyn until we’d managed to reboot and reground, until we were ready for our next adventure. Those naive expectations were eclipsed — willingly and joyfully — within the first year or two.

    So what does this have to do with my daily Rosslyn updates?

    Everything.

    In committing to this daily practice last summer I was acknowledging that I had some serious work to do. In order for us to constructively sort through out collective vision for the future, to determine whether we’re too fond of Rosslyn to proceed with plans for designing and building the lakeside retreat we’ve conjured over the years, to honestly assess our willingness and our readiness to hand this sanctuary over to another family, both Susan and I are undertaking the sort of “deep work” that will hopefully enable us to make some decisions. I’m talking about 100% honest, prolonged consideration. Rosslyn has quite literally been a part of our family, and not just our nuclear family. Can we untangle her? Are we willing to let her go? Can we joyfully pass the privilege on to new custodians? Or are we not yet ready?

    For me this daily practice, digging deep into sixteen and a half years of living and loving Rosslyn, is my time and place to work through these questions. To sort it all out. To find peace and confidence in my convictions. And six months in, I believe that I’m on the right path. Not all the time. There have certainly been some tangles and tangents that got away from me before I realized what was happening and reined them in. But the constant conversation — *internal* as I study, reflect, and compose these installments as well as *external* as I share these updates and then interact with many of you — is reinvigorating and reawakening Rosslyn from her comfortable slumber (and me from mine!) 

    So this midpoint milestone is a profoundly significant benchmark for me personally. It’s the tangible representation of my germinating confidence and clarity. It’s the measurable mean between a conflicted outlook and the conviction I’m hoping to discover over the next six months. In a real sense, it’s a halfway point toward the sort of rehabilitation that we’ve been undertaking with Rosslyn’s buildings and grounds since 2006, only in this case the journey is profoundly personal. Instead of historic architectural rehabilitation, it is restoration of my innermost wonder, my romantic dreams, and my idealistic hopes. With passion reawakened and a map forward becoming more apparent each day, I’m tempted to see this benchmark as the sort of celebration enjoyed upon finally reaching a base camp, a lofty peak viewable in the distance foreshadows the ambitious ascent ahead but also offers a majestic affirmation of the reachability and proximity of the summit. Today marks just such a halfway point, an opportunity to appreciate the accomplishments so far, and an incentive to forge ahead.

    Thank you for meeting me in the middle!

  • ChatGPT & “Dear John” Letter Writing

    ChatGPT & “Dear John” Letter Writing

    Rosslyn Barns, January 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rosslyn Barns, January 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Another peculiar — I prefer *idiosyncratic* — post this evening. Humor me? Yesterday I related an anecdotal jumble about gathering with friends, artificial intelligence, Essex, Westport, and a poem composed by ChatGPT. No clear takeaways. No conclusions. Just a voyeuristic glimpse into the overlap of buddies jawboning IRL and an AI chatbot weaving words into a midwinter mirage.

    Here’s where I left off.

    Perhaps like me, you’re a little wary of AI dabbling in the cultural and aesthetic arenas. An idea is percolating underneath my tangled mop, but I’m going to sleep on it. Morning might mature my perspective a few shades. And, so, without further ado, I’ll wrap up for the evening, inviting you to contemplate AI chat bots as fellow sojourners. Artificial intelligence offering us an ode to Essex. Thank you, ChatGPT. Thank you, Mark! (Source: A Place Where Stories are Told)

    Roughly 24-hours later, I’m ready to revisit the percolating idea (not unlike inspecting the grape must or checking the airlock on a carboy of homemade wine.)

    Today was an air travel day. Snowstorms, airports, airplanes,… So connectivity was limited. But, eager to engage ChatGPT a little further, and I managed to volley a few questions and answers between departure and arrival. I’m going to share our exchange verbatim.

    Me: Can you imagine writing a “Dear John” letter to a house?

    ChatGPT: Yes, it’s possible to imagine writing a “Dear John” letter to a house, although it may not have a real impact as a house is inanimate and lacks the ability to understand or feel emotions.

    Me: Perhaps it might have a real impact on the letter writer?

    ChatGPT: Yes, writing a “Dear John” letter to a house could have a real emotional impact on the letter writer as a form of self-expression and catharsis, even though the house itself would not be affected by it.

    Me: I’m not 100% certain about the house categorically being unaffected, but maybe that assessment should be postponed for now. However the possibility of a “Dear John” letter proving cathartic, possibly even catalytic, for the letter writer… now THAT is compelling, don’t you think?

    The tidy text thread stalled, and then I received an error message: “Load failed”. Then another pause, and then a partial response.

    ChatGPT: …could potentially be a therapeutic exercise for the writer. However, it’s important to keep in mind that everyone experiences and processes emotions differently, and what may be cathartic for one person may not be for another. 1/1

    It surprised me how much I yearned to know what was in the lost portion of the message. And then I realized that I could refresh the bot’s response. I hoped that it would regenerate the missing phrase(s). I’ll indicate when I’ve refreshed with a numbering sequence (see 1/1 above) following the comment.

    ChatGPT: Yes, the act of writing a “Dear John” letter can be a form of self-expression and catharsis for the writer, helping them process their emotions and potentially leading to personal growth and change. Whether writing to a house specifically is the most effective way to achieve this catharsis is subjective and can vary from person to person. 2/2

    Intrigued by the discovery that I can refresh and get another answer, I decide to try again. It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with the response, but curiosity gets the best of me!

    ChatGPT: Yes, it is possible for a “Dear John” letter to have a cathartic or even catalytic effect on the letter writer, serving as a form of self-expression and allowing them to process and release emotions related to their experience with the house. Writing can be a powerful therapeutic tool for individuals, helping them to process and make sense of their thoughts and feelings. 3/3

    Bullseye!

    And yet, I can’t help but feel simultaneously pleased and self conscious about this response. It’s as if I’ve manipulated and cherry-picked. I have. And it seems unhealthy somehow. I need to resist the temptation to manipulate the responses. I will accept the composite response, not picking and choosing. For an instant I imagine a conversation with Susan in which I discretely tap a refresh button and she overwrites her previous response. Slippery slope. Problematic. I’ll try to restrain myself.

    Me: Identifying and seeking to understand emotions related to the house would be useful. Processing them, making sense of them, and then possibly letting go of them, at least some of them, might indeed prove to be a powerful therapeutic process.

    ChatGPT: Yes, identifying and understanding emotions related to the house, and then processing and making sense of them through writing can be a therapeutic process that can help the letter writer gain insight and possibly let go of some of their emotions. Engaging in self-reflection and creative expression can be beneficial in promoting emotional healing and personal growth. 1/1

    Hhhmmm… I feel only partly sated. Let’s try again.

    ChatGPT: Exactly, exploring and understanding emotions related to the house through writing a “Dear John” letter could be a therapeutic process for the letter writer. It provides a creative outlet for the writer to process their emotions and gain insight into their experiences and feelings. This can lead to a sense of closure and even personal growth for the writer, as they work through and let go of any lingering emotions related to the house. 2/2

    Me: Right. That would be super helpful. (Hypothetically, of course!) And, the insights gained, the personal growth you refer to, actually *might* bring the letter writer to a different conclusion. For example, writing the letter could show the “Dear John” letter writer that he or she isn’t actually ready to breakup with the house. Hypothetically, at least…

    ChatGPT: Yes, that is possible. Writing a “Dear John” letter to a house can also serve as a way for the letter writer to gain clarity on their feelings and relationship with the house. It may help them realize that they are not ready to let go, and instead, they may want to explore ways to improve their relationship with the house. By examining their emotions and experiences through writing, the letter writer may gain a deeper understanding of themselves and their relationship with the house, which could potentially lead to a different outcome than they initially anticipated. 1/1

    ChatGPT: Yes, that is possible. Writing a “Dear John” letter to a house can serve as a form of self-reflection and introspection for the letter writer. By exploring and processing their emotions related to the house, the writer may gain new insights and perspectives, and even come to a different conclusion about their relationship with the house. The process of writing the letter could reveal that they are not ready to let go of the house after all, and that they have a deeper emotional connection to it than they initially realized. 2/2

    ChatGPT: Yes, that’s a possibility. Writing the “Dear John” letter could serve as a means of self-reflection and bring the writer to a new understanding or realization about their relationship with the house. It could even lead them to conclude that they are not ready to let go of the house and may want to continue the relationship in a positive way. The process of writing the letter and exploring one’s emotions can bring new insights and a deeper understanding of oneself and one’s experiences, potentially leading to a shift in perspective. 3/3

    Not ready to let go. A shift in perspective. Differing conclusions. I’m trying not to lose sight of the fact that this is an algorithm barebacking a mountain of data. But this exchange is engaging and intriguing.

    Recent days at Rosslyn have stirred up all sorts of questions. I’m brimming with wonder, both the wayward wandering variety and the introspective variety. And still-fresh conversations with friends have helped crystallize considerations that I’m tempted to share with ChatGPT. Matters that Susan and I navigate pragmatically whenever we’re away from Rosslyn become considerably less clear, for me at least, when I’m home in Essex. Three pairs of friends, three variations of the question: are you seriously considering selling Rosslyn? Years ago we conjured a metric for evaluating when we might be ready to offer our home to a new homeowner. Time to revisit. Perhaps with the assistance of artificial intelligence.

  • A Place Where Stories are Told

    A Place Where Stories are Told

    So let’s get it out on the table right from the start. This evening‘s post is a departure. Something new. And different. I mean *really* different… Let’s start with the title of this post, “A Place Where Stories are Told”, for example. Sounds like Essex, right? And plenty of other places, perhaps. I’ll jump the gun and tell you that it’s the title of a poem (that I’ll be including in a moment) about our fair village. So far, so good. By this point you’re accustomed to verse popping up in these posts. And you’re certainly not unfamiliar with hyperlocal belly button gazing. But there’s a twist. A wrinkle. A peculiarity. This poem, this post, this title are a collaboration — a conversation even — with an artificial intelligence chatbot. “A Place Where Stories are Told” is largely the product of ChatGPT, or more precisely, discourse with ChatGPT.

    A Place Where Stories are Told (Photo: Geo Davis)
    A Place Where Stories are Told (Photo: Geo Davis)

    If that confession threw you for a loop, I’m sorry. Let’s rewind a little bit. I took that photograph above while pulling away from the Essex ferry dock a few hours ago en route to Burlington for dinner with friends. Rosslyn’s boathouse. A place where stories are told. No artificial intelligence. Just the old fashioned, between-the-ears intelligence and location, location, location (a curiously catalytic energy this location provides for storytelling, reminiscing, and pipe dreaming). If it weren’t snowing and below freezing, the three of us probably would be sitting out there telling stories. Instead, we’ll be hunkering at a farm-to-table restaurant in downtown Burlington.

    Mark, the friend arriving from Montpelier, primed the proverbial pump for this evening’s storytelling with a quick quip from the aforementioned AI chatbot. He directed ChatGPT to “say something nice about Westport, New York” where Jim, the other friend joining us for dinner, lives. Here’s how it responded.

    Westport, New York is a scenic and charming town located near the Adirondack Mountains. Known for its beautiful natural surroundings and friendly community, it offers a range of outdoor recreational activities and opportunities to enjoy the beauty of the countryside. With its rich history, stunning landscapes, and friendly people, Westport is a wonderful place to visit or call home.

    ChatGPT

    Interesting. That reads a little like the sort of gormless drivel we’re accustomed to reading in destination marketing and chambers of commerce blurbs. Canned and generic, but accurate. And, I should note, it *is* somewhat surreal that a chatbot can generate accurate drivel.

    Next, Mark asked ChatGPT to compose a poem about Essex, New York. And this brings us to the title of my post, “A Place Where Stories are Told”.

    A Place Where Stories are Told

    Essex, a town so serene and bright,
    Nestled in the hills with all its might,
    Surrounded by beauty, both near and far,
    A place where memories will always be a star.

    From the rolling hills and vibrant trees,
    To the sparkling waters and gentle breeze,
    Essex is a place where one can find,
    Peace, happiness and a sense of mind.

    With its quaint streets and friendly folks,
    Essex is a place where stories are told,
    Of days gone by and memories made,
    In this beautiful town that will never fade.

    So here's to Essex, a town of pride,
    With its natural wonders and scenic ride,
    A place where dreams and memories come true,
    Forever cherished by me and you.

    — ChatGPT

    The chat bot excelled with rhythm and rhyme, but it underperformed elsewhere. It’s worth noting that the penultimate stanza is slightly promising, hence my decision to harvest the title from the least contrived and most accurate, meaningful, and compelling sentence.

    Perhaps like me, you’re a little wary of AI dabbling in the cultural and aesthetic arenas. An idea is percolating underneath my tangled mop, but I’m going to sleep on it. Morning might mature my perspective a few shades. And, so, without further ado, I’ll wrap up for the evening, inviting you to contemplate AI chat bots as fellow sojourners. Artificial intelligence offering us an ode to Essex. Thank you, ChatGPT. Thank you, Mark!