One time I was determined to visit my favorite piece in the Museum of Fine Arts
in Boston, in the Temple Room, and I didn't realize the museum was about to
close, and we had to go through rooms where they'd already turned off the lights
to make our way out.
I try to visit this one every time I'm at the museum; I just feel calmer
whenever I get to see him. He dates from the 12th century and is made of
Japanese cypress with gold. Museum materials call him Amida, the Buddha of
Infinite Light.
* * *
I feel most at home in these sort of neglected, utilitarian places, the
unrenonvated upper floors of the 1960s-built university library, the 190th
Street A train station in New York, the wide stairways where I used to study
while awaiting a ride home in high school. All of them good places to see
autumn foliage, come to think of it.
The view of New York I miss most is sunrise on a cold Sunday morning, as viewed
from the elevated section of the 7 train in Queens. On the way out to Flushing,
maybe.
