Nobility in the City

Two blocks from my downtown office is a quiet park that reflects most everything good and noble about modern business and personal wealth and inner city life.

Located in front of a rather magnificient modern building that once served as the Federal Reserve Bank in Minneapolis, the Cancer Survivor's Park is one of several public parks around the country born out of a vision of Richard Bloch—one of the founders of H & R Block tax preparation empire. A survivor of lung cancer, Mr. Bloch created the R.A. Bloch Cancer Foundation, an organization that has given many millions of dollars to sufferers of cancer. The presence of nearly a dozen such parks around the nation are a quiet memorial to Bloch, who died some time back of heart failure.





The work of people like Bloch (and people like Joan Kroc, of the McDonald's empire; and Bill Gates, who may well cure AIDS almost single-handedly) offers a bright spot telling us that fabulous wealth need not be all about greed. Wealth can also do great good, which is a nice thing for us to remember in these jaded, post-Enron times.

The meticulous upkeep for this park is diligently shared by the City of Minneapolis and the management of the building itself—a rare and wonderful example of civic and business leadership working together.

Though you'd never know it, the Cancer Survivor's Park is actually a ground level green roof that covers the underground parking garage for the building, now known as the Marquette Office Building.

Designed to complement the architecture of the building, the park's sweeping horizontal layout echoes the soaring vertical arch in the building. At certain times of day, in fact, the geometry of the park itself is reflected in the glass of the building. The walkways and fountains use mostly granites and metals, but built into the retaining walls are dozens of wooden benches, plentiful enough to provide lots of resting points but separated enough to make it easy to find mild isolation for reflection. This is a park that is both nice to look at, and pleasant to use——a combination that is hard to find these days.



A brass sculpture ornaments the expansive lawn that serves as the focal point for contemplation. Near the massive glass walls of the building, rounded plantings of birch trees create shady glades, with short but restful pathways with shade plants and additional benches on which to test and practice restful awareness.

At various points, small metal plaques offer words of encouragement. The messages are intended for cancer victims, but they quietly encourage anyone with a wounded nature—which means just about all of humanity.

The park draws a much different crowd than the throngs that fill the streets and elevated skyways in downtown during lunch. Here, a group of three friends passing the time is quite a crowd, and you are much more likely to see individuals eating a quiet sandwich or taking a reading break in the afternoon. In the heat of a summer afternoon the park is always utterly shaded, thanks to clever orientation by the designers. An hour lunch break passes in but moments.

In fact, time disappears almost entirely in this paradoxical Park dedicated to a mortal disease.

The Ridiculous is the Sublime

On many levels, I'm something of a misanthrope. About 90% of modern culture is of no interest to me whatsoever. I think that People Magazine may well be the scourge of modern humanity, and at a social gathering this weekend, when most everyone was talking about how fabulous it is to live in the city, where there is plenty to do at all times, I quietly thought to myself that I could very easily spend the final years of my life in some mountain hu, honing mystical exercises until the bears eventually find my dying corpse and decide to devour me.

Ah, but the 10% of modern culture that I do like...well, that's the little slice of the pie that leaves me in complete awe of this strange, tortured, quaint, divine and demonic creature we call humankind.

Recently, Apple corporation released the newest software release for the I-phone, and though I didn't bother to upgrade to the fancy 3G phone itself, the software update is enough to convince you that humanity is both the most ridiculous and the most holy of creatures.

For those of you not in the know, several months ago, Apple opened up the source code used to create applications for the I-phone to just about anybody who wanted to tinker, and the result is that upon the official release of the new phone and software, several hundred applications already existed. Many were free; others are available for fees that range from .99 to $49.99. You download them to the phone, and thereafter they are free and clear for use anytime, anywhere.

For a week now, I'm stunned by both the silliness and the incredibly ingenuity of what I've seen. First, some silliness:

• One application requires you to do nothing more than hold down an lighted button on the screen of the I-phone. The game is to see how long you can squeeze the damn thing. It does nothing other than this, whatsoever.

• Another application displays a little miniature light-saber from star-wars. When you sweep the phone through the air, it makes that throbbing electronic laser sound from the movie. Silliness personified.

• There is a "flashlight" application that does nothing but cause the phone face to glow brightly. This is to help you find your keys in the dark, supposedly.

But there are a remarkable number of applications that are stunning both for their inventiveness and their usefulness.

• I am currently reading Thomas Wolfe's classic novel "Look Homeward Angel" in completely comfortable fashion on the I-phone. I downloaded it for .99, and find it a whole lot easier than carrying a 2-pound novel in my backpack on the daily bus ride.

• In an application called "Pandora" (utterly free), you tell the I-phone what kind of music you like (either a single song, or an artist), and it then creates a virtual radio station that selects songs in this genre. I've tested this on walks, plugging the I-phone into my car stereo, and plugging it into a cordless dock which I use to play music when I'm gardening, and the application works like a charm in any circumstance. There are no commercials whatsoever, and the only "hook" to it is that, should you happen to like a song you hear, you're allowed to tap a button on the face of the phone to download it permanently to your system for .99.

• Another application lets you speak a verbal memo into the built-in microphone on the I-phone. The verbal message is instantly whisked off to file server somewhere in cyberspace, and a moment or so later, a written transcription arrives back at your phone in the form of a memo. I generated a grocery shopping list in this fashion over the weekend; dictating it verbally, then using the written list as a guide when walking through the store.

• AOL radio is an application that lets you select from among hundreds of commercial radio stations nationwide. Should you want to listen to the Boston REd Sox baseball game, for example, you can instantly find a Boston station to listen to.

• An application called Box Office instantly produces theaters, showing times, and reviews of all movies playing in your area. And should you happen to not know your zip code, another button instantly pinpoints your GPS location, then spots all movie theaters in a 5 or 10 mile radius. Should you be hankering for, say, a barbecue restaurant, you can also use this feature to find all options, and then plot a turn-by-turn route to your destination.

And finally, my favorite...."Zen" turns your I-phone into a miniature sand-and-stone zen garden. Your finger both places small elegant stones, and serves as the rake to sweep the sand into soothing parallel lines. Should you like what you see, you can click a snapshot and save the image for use as a screen-saver.

Truly, it is the best of times. And the worst of times.