I’m buckling up my helmet when Blanks walks out of Winthrop House, wearing Harvard Cross Country gear head to toe. He tells me we’ll be “jogging” today, at a 7:21-minutes-per-mile pace. The average non-elite male runner races a 5K at 9:28 minutes per-mile pace. Blanks runs towards the river, feet pattering like a steady metronome while I pedal beside him.
Though the library may seem incongruous with the rest of the building, it was a planned part of the SEC from the start and is just as innovative as the technology created in it.
The Time Trade Circle is a Cambridge-based time bank that serves the Boston metropolitan area. The principle is straightforward: you complete a task for someone, and the number of hours it took to complete the task is deposited into your account. You can then “cash in” those hours whenever you want.
The program sends artists from America and Georgia to each others' countries. "I'm going to bring this American clawhammer old-time style to the highest inhabited village in Europe," says Maxwell Evrard, "and I’m going to make people tap their foot."
Mickey Alice Kwapis, the taxidermist who led the rat embalming workshop, says her work is a labor of love. “You wouldn't spend your days elbows-deep in a dead animal if you didn't really love the work that you were doing and really want to honor those specimens,” she says.
David W. Gould is standing at the center of Eel River Preserve, surrounded by grasses, shrubs, and trees stretching in all directions. From this vast expanse of green, he points out the pitch pines, the red maples, the shoulder-high cattails. Light glints off the small stream behind him. A carpet of sphagnum moss squelches beneath his boots.
Efforts to preserve the Old Burying Ground’s historical and aesthetic legacy have given rise to an entirely new set of questions: Who gets memorialized after death, and why? What makes us devote money and manpower to the upkeep of a graveyard so old that no surviving descendants are left to visit? And what does all of it say about us now?
The tombstones are remnants of Puritan-era craftsmanship that the Fannins take pride in preserving. Many of them are painstakingly carved with images of the “death’s head” — a foreboding, winged skull, etched alongside phrases like “memento mori” (remember you must die) and “fugit hora” (the hour flies).